Unluckily for his cause, if there had been a possible chance for its
success, Forbes Westcott chose the evening of this same day to come
again to Roberta Gray with his question burning on his lips. He arrived
at a moment when, to his temporary satisfaction, Roberta was said to be
playing a set of singles in the court with Ruth by the light of a
fast-fading afterglow; and he took his way thither without delay. It was
a simple matter, of course, to a man of his resource, to dispose of the
young sister, in spite of the elder's attempt to foil him at his own
game. So presently he had Roberta to himself, with every advantage of
time and place and summer beauty all about.
Louis Gray, looking down the lawn from the rear porch, upon whose steps
he sat with Rosamond and Stephen, descried the tall figure strolling by
their sister's side along a stretch of closely shaven turf between rows
of slim young birches.
"Forbes is persistent, eh?" he observed. "Think he has a fighting
chance?"
"Oh, I hope not!" cried Rosamond impulsively.
Stephen's grave eyes followed the others, to dwell upon the distant
pair. "Forbes stands to win a big place among men," was his comment.
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