Marjorie, by the way of answer, hit her ball so that it jumped and
missed his, ricochetted across the lawn and out of the ground on the
further side.
"I'm sorry if I've annoyed you," said Trafford, as Marjorie went after
her ball, and Daffy thanked heaven aloud for the respite.
They came together no more for a time, and Trafford, observant with
every sense, found no clue to the riddle of her grave, intent bearing.
She played very badly, and with unusual care and deliberation. He felt
he had made a mess of things altogether, and suddenly found his leg was
too painful to go on. "Partner," he asked, "will you play out my ball
for me? I can't go on. I shall have to go."
Marjorie surveyed him, while Daffy and Magnet expressed solicitude. He
turned to go, mallet in hand, and found Marjorie following him.
"Is that the heavier mallet?" she asked, and stood before him looking
into his eyes and weighing a mallet in either hand.
"Mr. Trafford, you're one of the worst examiners I've ever met," she
said.
He looked puzzled.
"I don't know _why_," said Marjorie, "I wonder as much as you. But I
am"; and seeing the light dawning in his eyes, she turned about, and
went back to the debacle of her game.