"Peter, old man, I shall never
forget this."
"That's all right."
"What are you going to do?"
"Now, do you mean? Oh, I shall potter round the second nine. If you
want me, you'll find me somewhere about."
"You'll come to the wedding, Peter?" said James, wistfully.
"Of course," said Peter. "Good luck."
He spoke cheerily, but, when the other had turned to go, he stood
looking after him thoughtfully. Then he sighed a heavy sigh.
* * * * *
James approached Miss Forrester with a beating heart. She made a
charming picture as she stood there in the sunlight, one hand on her
hip, the other swaying a tennis racket.
"How do you do?" said James.
"How are you, Mr. Todd? Have you been playing golf?"
"Yes."
"With Mr. Willard?"
"Yes. We were having a match."
"Golf," said Grace Forrester, "seems to make men very rude. Mr. Willard
left me without a word in the middle of our conversation."
James was astonished.
"Were you talking to Peter?"
"Yes. Just now. I can't understand what was the matter with him.
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