ut of form to-night." A plump, short
woman with doll-like eyes, who had been watching the game from a seat
near-by, now spoke, with subtle meaning in her accents.

"Quite so. Can't really understand it. Steele can put up a deuced strong
game, don't you know, but to-night--Did you notice how he failed at one
of the easiest shots?"

"That was when Jocelyn Wray looked in," murmured the other.

"Miss Wray!" Captain Forsythe set the balls for a practice shot. "Well,
Steele's a splendid chap," he said irrelevantly.

"You have known him for some time?"

"Not a great while; he's rather a new man, don't you know. But Sir
Charles is quite democratic; took him up, well, as one might in
Australia, without," good-naturedly, "inquiring into his family or his
antecedents, or all that sort of rubbish."

"Indeed?" Her voice was non-committal. "But as for its being rubbish--"

"Oh, I say, Mrs. Nallis!" The other's tone was expostulating. "Strong
man; splendid sort of chap, Steele! A jolly good athlete, too! Witness
our little fencing contest of this morning!"

"True! You are an evident admirer of Mr. Steele, Captain Forsythe. And
if I am not mistaken," she laughed, "others share your opinion. Sir
Charles, for example, and Jocelyn Wray. She didn't look displeased this
morning, did she? When the contest was over, I mean. Not that I would
imply--of course, her position and his--so far apart from a social
standpoint." A retort of some kind seemed about to spring from the
listener's lips but she did not give him the opportunity to speak; went
on: "Besides, when I came here, I understood a marriage had been, or was
about to be arranged between Sir Charles' niece and--"

"Not interrupting a bit of gossip, I trust?" a cynical voice inquired;
at the same time a third person, who had quietly approached, paused to
regard them.

"Ah, Lord Ronsdale!" Just for an instant the lady was disconcerted.
"Gossip?" She repeated in a tone that meant: "How can you?"

He waved his hand; leaned against the table. "Beg your pardon! Very
wrong of me, no doubt; only the truth is--" his lashes drooped slightly
to veil his eyes, "I like a bit of gossip myself occasionally!"

"We were talking about your friendly set-to with John Steele," said
Captain Forsythe bluntly.

The nobleman's long fingers lifted, pulled at his mustache; in the
bright glare, his nails, perfectly kept, looked sharp and pointed. "Ah,
indeed!" he remarked. "Steele is handy with the f