Upon one of these Kitty sat down and began to fan
herself. Thomas walked over and sat down beside her. The slight
gesture of her hand had been a command.
It was early morning, before breakfast; still and warm and breathless,
a forerunner of a long hot summer day. A few hundred yards to the
south lay the sea, shimmering as it sprawled lazily upon the tawny
sands.
The propinquity of a pretty girl and a lonely young man has founded
more than one story.
"You'll be enjoying the game, once you learn it."
"Do you think I ever will?" asked Thomas. He bent forward and began
tapping the clay with his racket. How to run away!
Kitty, as she looked down at his head, knew that there were a dozen
absurd wishes in her heart, none of which could possibly ever become
facts. He was so different from the self-assertive young men she knew,
with their silly flirtations, their inane small-talk, their capacity
for Scotch whisky and long hours. For days she had studied him as
through microscopic lenses; his guilelessness was real. It just simply
could not be; her ears had deceived her that memorable foggy night in
London.
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