"
If there was one person in the world Roland despised and hated at that
moment, it was himself.
"Are you going out with the guns to-morrow?" asked Lady Eva languidly.
"Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no. I'm afraid I don't shoot."
The back of his neck began to glow. He had no illusions about himself.
He was the biggest ass in Christendom.
"Perhaps you'd like to play a round of golf, then?"
"Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no." There it was again, that awful phrase.
He was certain he had not intended to utter it. She must be thinking
him a perfect lunatic. "I don't play golf."
They stood looking at each other for a moment. It seemed to Roland that
her gaze was partly contemptuous, partly pitying. He longed to tell her
that, tho she had happened to pick on his weak points in the realm of
sport, there were things he could do. An insane desire came upon him to
babble about his school football team. Should he ask her to feel his
quite respectable biceps? No.
"Never mind," she said, kindly. "I daresay we shall think of something
to amuse you."
She held out her hand again. He took it in his for the briefest
possible instant, painfully conscious the while that his own hand was
clammy from the emotion through which he had been passing.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130