C.C., who had just made his fifty, drove a
full pitch hard towards the boundary on the edge of which I was fielding.
By fast sprinting, and a lot of luck, I brought off the catch, and,
amidst the applause from the pavilion within a few feet of me, I heard my
cousin's somewhat patronizing congratulations:--
"Fine catch, Jim! Very fine catch indeed!"
I glanced round, and stood for a moment upon the cinder-path as though
turned to stone. My cousin, who had changed his seat, was smiling kindly
upon me a few yards away, and by his side, talking to him, was a young
lady with golden-brown hair, a French maid dressed in black, and a
Japanese spaniel. Her eyes met mine without any shadow of recognition.
She looked upon me from her raised seat, as though I were a performer in
some comedy being played for her amusement, in which she found it hard,
however, to take any real interest. I went back to my place in the field,
without any clear idea of whether I was upon my head or my heels, and my
fielding for the rest of the time was purely mechanical.
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