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As we came up the broad steps at the further end towards the tennis lawn, she turned suddenly upon me and with a novel assurance of command told me to stand still. "There," she said with a hand out and seemed to survey me with her chin up and her white neck at the level of my eyes. "Yes.
It is all for love of you . . . . I have been all to him that could be expected of a man who is under such vast obligations to you; and I so much esteem the honour of your friendship that I should always neglect my private affairs in order to do everything for your service and meet your desires . . . . . If M. de Craimgepolder comes back from his visit home, you must restrict him in two things, the table and tennis, and you can do this if you require him to follow the King assiduously as his service requires."
Its quick give-and-take suited my temperament, and so fond was I of it that during one summer I played not fewer than four thousand games. As I had an aptitude for tennis and devoted more time to it than did any of my schoolmates, it was not surprising that I acquired skill enough to win the school championship during my senior year.
"Now, this joke is in the form of a humorous question and an even more humorous answer. Oh, it's a wonder, I'll say." "We'll say something, too, if you don't hurry up and get the agony over with," threatened Joe. "Make it snappy, before we weaken under the strain and throw you out the window." "Well, then," said Herb: "Why does the tennis ball?
Blue Bonnet glanced at Annabel's tiny hands and feet, and laughed. "You weren't made for athletics, Annabel. You're put up wrong architecturally." "Praise be!" At the foot of the stairs the girls separated. Blue Bonnet was off for her game of tennis and Annabel for a walk in the Park. "See you later," Blue Bonnet called. "If you love me awfully you might make me a cup of tea when I get in.
All laughed with him, while the black bearers trotted by, as suddenly, from between the curtains of this box-like carriage, out popped a tennis cap, while a well-known voice shouted a boyish "Hello!" as a hand was waved in greeting. "It's Dwight Hello! Hello!" Hope shouted back, waving her white parasol vigorously. "Isn't he the greatest boy?" "I wonder if he'll turn up on that bullock cart, too.
Professor Grind, of the Committee on Student Affairs, was observed to write in his note-book. The Sophomores who saw this rejoiced that they were not in rushing clothes. Still the racket went on. Jack Smith, in spotless tennis flannels, sat on the bleachers.
Belle taught her to swim, and Russell to play tennis, and Gwendolyn took her to some of the many meetings to which she devoted her life. And then there was Tryphosa. She always made time for a visit there at least once every week. She was hungry to hear all she could about her mother.
He was asking Roddy when he was coming to play tennis, and whether his sister played. They might turn up tomorrow. The light played on his curling, handsome smile. He hoped she liked Rathdale. "She only came yesterday," Roddy said. "Well come along to-morrow. About four o'clock. I'll tell my wife." And Roddy said, "Thanks," as if it choked him. Mr. Sutcliffe went on down the hill.
Her hand clenched itself on the banisters, then she seemed to nerve herself for some encounter, and went rapidly past me down the stairs across the hall to the boudoir, the door of which she shut behind her. As I ran out to the tennis court a few moments later, I had to pass the open boudoir window, and was unable to help overhearing the following scrap of dialogue.
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