Tennis was to him for the time being the only thing worth doing on the face of the earth.

In his enthusiasm he speedily stripped off his coat and rolled his sleeves to the shoulder as if it had been the hottest summer day.
At the end of the set, which Charlie won, a couple of spectators who had come up unseen applauded their energy, and Charlie, swinging round in flushed triumph, raced up for a word with his host and Molly Erie.
"I can't stuff over a fire all the afternoon," he said.

"But the light is getting bad, isn't it?
Fisher and I will have to knock off.

Are you two going for a walk?
We'll come, too, if you are, eh, Fisher ?" He turned towards Fisher, who had come up, and held out his hand for the other's racquet.
Molly uttered a sudden startled exclamation.
"Why, Charlie," she ejaculated, "what have you done to your arm?
What is the matter with it ?" Charlie jumped at her startled tone and tore down his shirt-sleeve hastily.
"An old wound," he said, with a shame-faced laugh.
She put her gloved hand swiftly on his to stay his operations.
"No, tell me!" she said.

"What is it--really?
How was it done ?" "You will never get him to tell you that," laughed Bertie Richmond.