_Marks._ (_unbending_). Very kind of you, but, my dear fellow, you
have chosen rather an unfortunate time.
_Loung._ Why, at Wimbledon you had nothing to do!
_Marks._ Very likely. But then Bisley isn't Wimbledon.
_Loung._ (_dryly_). So it seems. Everyone said that, when they moved
the camp further away from home, they would ruin the meeting.
_Marks._ Then everyone was wrong. Why, we are going on swimmingly.
_Loung._ It must be beastly dull.
_Marks._ Not at all. Lovely country, good range, and, after it rains,
two minutes later it is dry as bone.
_Loung._ Yes, but it stands to reason that it _can't_ be as popular as
Wimbledon.
_Marks._ My dear fellow, figures are the best test of that. In all the
history of the Association we have never had more entries than this
year.
_Loung._ That may be, but you don't have half the fun you had nearer
town.
_Marks._ (_laughing_). Don't want to! Business, my dear fellow, not
pleasure! And now, old man, I really _must_ be off! Ta, ta! See you
later. [_Exit._
_Loung._ Well, whatever he may say, I prefer Wimbledon.
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