"Who is going to play tennis?
I shall play with Sir Roderick." "I'd much rather sit still in the shade," pleaded Sir Roderick.
"You're a very rude _old_ gentleman! But you must play, all the same--against Bob and Mr.Morewood." "Where do I come in ?" asked Eugene.

"Mayn't I do anything, Lady Claudia ?" The others were looking after the net and the racquets, and Claudia was left with him for a moment.
"Yes," she said; "you may go and sit on Kate's trunks till they lock." "Wait a little while; I will be revenged on you.

I want, though, to ask you a question." "Oh! Is it a question that no one else--say Kate, for instance--could help you with ?" "It's not about myself." "Is it about me ?" "Yes." "What's the matter, Mr.Lane?
Is it anything serious ?" "Very." "Nonsense!" said Claudia.

"You really mustn't do it, Mr.Lane, or I can't stay for the cricket-match." "We shall be desolate.

Stafford's going in a few days." But Claudia's face was entirely guileless as she replied: "Is he?
I'm so sorry! But he's looking much stronger, isn't he ?" With which she departed to join Sir Roderick, who had been spending the interval in extracting from Morewood an account of Stafford's behavior.
"Hard hit, was he ?" he concluded.
"He looked it." "Wonder what he'll do! I'll give you five to four he asks her." "Done!" said Morewood; "in fives.".