intelligence to
Joan. Meanwhile, the other sets had all finished, and the players came
up to see why we were still hard at it. At the twenty-fourth deuce the
Tournament secretary remarked: "Last game, I suppose? Hurry up, we can't
get on." I explained to him that this was only the first game of the
set, and that similar prolongations were likely to recur when my partner
served in the third game and I again in the fifth.

The news spread rapidly, and for a time we were the most unpopular
quartet in the Club; but by the time we had reached our eighty-third
deuce, and luncheon (the gift of Lady Boggles) was served, hunger and
anger began to abate simultaneously, and the situation was discussed
with humour to the exclusion of all other topics. At the end of the
morning's play I was certainly feeling a trifle done up, but it says
much for the recuperative properties of chicken galantine and junket
that after the interval I felt quite invigorated and good for service
_ad infinitum_. Efforts were made to induce us to toss for the set, but
neither of us would consent to this, Wilbrooke maintaining that under
normal conditions I could not possibly win the game, and I arguing that
under existing conditions--with which I was more intimately concerned--I
could not possibly lose it, and therefore to toss would be a mockery.
Thus there was no alternative but to play on.

I suggested to Joan that as her presence on the court was not strictly
essential she should join in a friendly set with some of the other
unemployed. But she would not hear of it. She wanted to be in at the
finish, if there was ever going to be a finish, she said; and so we
continued.

When we were summoned to tea (kindly provided gratis by Miss Vera
Boogles) we had amassed 265 deuces, and though my right arm ached and my
service was a trifle wobbly I was still scoring the vantage point (and
losing it at once) with the utmost regularity. But the temporary
cessation of hostilities, associated with about half-a-pound of Swiss
roll and three Chelsea buns, served to restore me, and after tea we went
at it again until half-past seven, when, with the score at 394 deuces,
the net got tired and collapsed, and we adjourned.

We have since met on every available evening in our endeavours to bring
the game to a conclusion; but the score is still deuce, and at that it
will probably remain unless one of the following contingencies arises:--

(1) Pattie may improve so much wi