a little thing decided me to speak to you — when you wouldn't play tennis with Freddy.”

“I never do play tennis,” said Cecil, painfully bewildered; “I never could play. I don't understand a word you say.”

“You can play well enough to make up a four. I thought it abominably selfish of you.”

“No, I can't — well, never mind the tennis. Why couldn't you — couldn't you have warned me if you felt anything wrong? You talked of our wedding at lunch — at least, you let me talk.”

“I knew you wouldn't understand,” said Lucy quite crossly. “I might have known there would have been these dreadful explanations. Of course, it isn't the tennis —