He turned to me with the air of one
in pain.
"Does he always do that?" he whispered.
"Always," I replied.
"Then I'm done for! No human being could play golf against a one-ring
circus like that without blowing up!"
I said nothing. It was, I feared, only too true. Well-poised as I am, I
had long since been compelled to give up playing with Alexander
Paterson, much as I esteemed him. It was a choice between that and
resigning from the Baptist Church.
At this moment Millicent spoke. There was an open book in her hand. I
recognized it as the life-work of Professor Rollitt.
"Think on this doctrine," she said, in her soft, modulated voice, "that
to be patient is a branch of justice, and that men sin without
intending it."
Mitchell nodded briefly, and walked to the tee with a firm step.
"Before you drive, darling," said Millicent, "remember this. Let no act
be done at haphazard, nor otherwise than according to the finished
rules that govern its kind."
The next moment Mitchell's ball was shooting through the air, to come
to rest two hundred yards down the course.
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