He spoke scarcely at all, and his face was masklike in its composure, but Dot, watching, knew with that intuition which of late had begun to grow upon her that he was grimly set upon obtaining the victory.

The knowledge thrilled her with a strange excitement.

She knew that he was in a fashion desirous of proving himself in her eyes, that he had entered into the contest solely for her.
As for Warden, she believed he was playing entirely to please himself.
He took an artistic interest in every stroke, but the ultimate issue of the game did not seem to enter into his calculation.

He played like a sportsman, sometimes rashly, often brilliantly, but never selfishly.

It was impossible to watch him with indifference.