"Is that your own or did you read it in a
comic paper? There you are!" He placed the ball on a little hill of
sand, and got up. "Now let's see some of that championship form of
yours!"
She burst into tears.
"My darling!"
Mortimer ran to her and put his arms round her. She tried weakly to
push him away.
"My angel! What is it?"
She sobbed brokenly. Then, with an effort, she spoke.
"Mortimer, I have deceived you!"
"Deceived me?"
"I have never played golf in my life! I don't even know how to hold the
caddie!"
Mortimer's heart stood still. This sounded like the gibberings of an
unbalanced mind, and no man likes his wife to begin gibbering
immediately after the honeymoon.
"My precious! You are not yourself!"
"I am! That's the whole trouble! I'm myself and not the girl you
thought I was!"
Mortimer stared at her, puzzled. He was thinking that it was a little
difficult and that, to work it out properly, he would need a pencil and
a bit of paper.
"My name is not Mary!"
"But you said it was."
"I didn't. You asked if you could call me Mary, and I said you might,
because I loved you too much to deny your smallest whim.
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