25. When it was time to play and my doctor was already striding with high, springing steps in the direction of the number-three court, the fat blond man, who had not moved from his chair, said to his sister that he was not going to play. She was obviously taken aback and asked why not; he answered that he did not have to give a reason. There was an exchange of rather hard looks, the sister started talking at high speed, making numerous gestures. He was imperturbable, did not move an inch; he listened calmly, cleaning a molar with a toothpick. A few minutes later my doctor came jogging back, head high, gaze questioning. Having been informed of the situation he squatted down in front of his brother-in-law and, speaking in a low voice, slapped him lightly on his fat thighs and pinched his fleshy cheeks between two fingers, to convince him to come play. Still cleaning his teeth, and looking more and more out of sort, the fat blond man shook his head. At least he stood up, removed the toothpick from his mouth, and said, with a long drawl, before walking away, that we could go to hell.
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