"The little I know is
enough."
"Well hit!" chuckled Nick. "I retire from the fray, discomfited. Olga
_mia_, I wish you would find the cigars. You know where they are."
Olga sprang to do his bidding. Having handed the box to Grange she
came to Nick and stood beside him while she cut and lighted a cigar
for him.
He put his arm round her for a moment, and she stooped a flushed face
and kissed the top of his head.
"Run along," said Nick. "Take Muriel into the garden. She hasn't seen
it all."
Muriel rose. "We mustn't be late in starting back," she remarked to
Blake.
But Olga lingered to whisper vehemently in Nick's ear.
He laughed and shook his head. "Go, child, go! You don't know anything
about it. And Muriel is waiting. You should never keep a guest
waiting."
Olga went reluctantly. They passed out into the clear June sunshine
together and down towards the shady shrubberies beyond the lawns.
"Can Nick play tennis?" Muriel asked, as they crossed a marked-out
court.
"Yes, he can do anything," the child said proudly. "He was on
horseback this morning, and he managed splendidly. We generally
play tennis in the evening. He almost always wins. His services are
terrific. I can't think how he does it. He calls it juggling. I try to
manage with only one hand sometimes--just to keep him company--but I
always make a mess of things.
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