'Not a bit. Only when she is petting Basil it strikes me that I have
heard the tones before. I only remember the time of misery under the
crosspatches grandmamma got for us.'

'Well, it was a splendid cutting of his own throat in Mark,' said
Annaple, 'so it ought to turn out well.'

'I don't know how it is to turn out for Mark,' answered May. 'Oh, here
he comes!'

'Will you come into this set, Annaple?' he asked. 'They want another
couple,' and, as she accepted, 'How do you get on with May's double?'

'I pity May for having such a double.'

'Don't encourage her by misplaced pity.'

'It's abominable altogether! I want to fly at somebody!'

'Exhaust your feelings on your racket, and reflect that you see a man
released from bondage.'

'Is that philosophy or high-faluting?' she said in a teasing tone as
the game began.

The Ruthvens had very blue blood in their veins, but as there were nine
of the present generation, they possessed little beyond their long
pedigree; even the head of the family, Lord Ronnisglen, being forced to
live as a soldier, leaving his castle to grouse shooters. His seven
brothers had fared mostly in distant lands as they could, and his
mother had found a home, together with her youngest child, at Lescombe,
where her eldest was the wife of Sir John Delmar. Lady Ronnisglen was
an invalid, confined to the house, and Lady Delmar had daughters fast
treading on the heels of Annabella, so christened, but always called
Annaple after the old Scottish queens, her ancestors. She had been May
Egremont's chief friend ever since her importation at twelve years old,
and the intimacy had been promoted by her mother and sister. Indeed,
the neighbourhood had looked on with some amusement at the competition
ascribed to Lady Delmar and to the wealthy parvenu, Mrs. West, for the
heir-presumptive of Bridgefield Egremont.

Annaple's lightness and dexterity rendered her the best of the lady
tennis-players, and the less practised Ursula found herself defeated in
the match, in spite of a partner whose play was superior to Mark's, and
with whom she shyly walked off to eat ices.

'I see,' said Annaple, 'it is a country-town edition of May. I shan't
blunder between them again.'

'She will polish,' said Mark, 'but she is not equal to her mother.'

'Whom I have not seen yet. Ah, there's Mr. Egremont! Why, he looks
quite renovated!'

'Well he may be!'

'But Mark, not to hurt your feelings, he must h