“We’ll get the duffers out of the way first, and then we’ll have a jolly set afterwards.”

Apparently Miss Wilkinson overheard him, for she threw down her racket, and, saying she had a headache, went away.  It was plain to everyone that she was offended.  Philip was annoyed that she should make the fact public.  The set was arranged without her, but presently Mrs. Carey called him.

“Philip, you’ve hurt Emily’s feelings.  She’s gone to her room and she’s crying.”

“What about?”

“Oh, something about a duffer’s set.  Do go to her, and say you didn’t mean to be unkind, there’s a good boy.”

“All right.”

He knocked at Miss Wilkinson’s door, but receiving no answer went in.  He found her lying face downwards on her bed, weeping.  He touched her on the shoulder.

“I say, what on earth’s the matter?”

“Leave me alone.  I never want to speak to you again.”

“What have I done?  I’m awfully sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings.  I didn’t mean to.  I say, do get up.”

“Oh, I’m so unhappy.  How could you be cruel to me?  You know I hate that stupid game.  I only play because I want to play with you.”

She got up and walked towards the dressing-table, but after a quick look in the glass sank into a chair.  She made her handkerchief into a ball and dabbed her eyes with it.

“I’ve given you the greatest thing a woman can give a man—­oh, what a fool I was—­and you have no gratitude.  You must be quite heartless.  How could you be so cruel as to torment me by flirting with those vulgar girls.  We’ve only got just over a week.  Can’t you even give me that?”

Philip stood over her rather sulkily.  He thought her behaviour childish.  He was vexed with her for having shown her ill-temper before strangers.

“But you know I don’t care twopence about either of the O’Connors.  Why on earth should you think I do?”

Miss Wilkinson put away her handkerchief.  Her tears had made marks on her powdered face, and her hair was somewhat disarranged.  Her white dress did not suit her very well just then.  She looked at Philip with hungry, passionate eyes.

“Because you’re twenty and so’s she,” she said hoarsely.  “And I’m old.”

Philip reddened and looked away.  The anguish of her tone made him feel strangely uneasy.  He wished with all his heart that he had never had anything to do with Miss Wilkinson.

“I don’t want to make you unhappy,” he said awkwardly.  “You’d better go down and look after your friends.  They’ll wonder what has become of you.”

“All right.”

He was glad to leave her.