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[[preprinted]]Monday, August 2, 1909[[/preprinted]]

Played my singles match in the tournament today, and Jenkins put me out in two straight sets. Then we played two more for fun, and damned if I didn't beat him in turn. Damitall, if I'd only one in the first two instead of the last two, I'd'a been all right.

Just like me. Every doggone time.

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[[preprinted]]Tuesday, August 3, 1909[[/preprinted]]

Another little dinner over at the Club tonight. This time it was agreed to cut out the bombardment game, and confine ourselves to the dinner proper, like gents as we are. However, afterwards they grew rather restless, and I played "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp" to the accompaniment of chairs pounded on the floor, until I was black in the face. They do always seem to take it out on that poor club furniture somehow.

Rayne, who beats it on the French tomorrow, was the guest of honor, and Clark & Boustead shouted. It was a relief when I found I got through my speech all right.