"Game," said Mr. Chase.
I felt a worm, and no man. Phyllis, I thought, would probably judge my
entire character from this exhibition. A man, she would reflect, who
could be so feeble and miserable a failure at tennis, could not be
good for much in any department of life. She would compare me
instructively with my opponent, and contrast his dash and brilliance
with my own inefficiency. Somehow, the massacre was beginning to have
a bad effect on my character. My self-respect was ebbing. A little
more of this, and I should become crushed--a mere human jelly. It was
my turn to serve. Service is my strong point at tennis. I am
inaccurate but vigorous, and occasionally send in a quite unplayable
shot. One or two of these, even at the expense of a fault or so, and I
might be permitted to retain at least a portion of my self-respect.
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