"
"My style of play? What's wrong with my style of play?"
"Nothing is actually wrong with it, but to a young and ardent spirit
there is apt to be something a trifle upsetting in being, compelled to
watch a man play quite so slowly as you do. Come now, Alexander, as one
friend to another, is it necessary to take two practice-swings before
you putt?"
"Dear, dear!" said Alexander. "You really mean to say that that upsets
him? Well, I'm afraid I am too old to change my methods now."
I had nothing more to say.
As we reached the tenth tee, I saw that we were in for a few minutes'
wait. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm. Millicent was standing beside
me, dejection written on her face. Alexander and young Mitchell were
some distance away from us.
"Mitchell doesn't want me to come round the rest of the way with him,"
she said, despondently. "He says I make him nervous."
I shook my head.
"That's bad! I was looking on you as a steadying influence."
"I thought I was, too. But Mitchell says no. He says my being there
keeps him from concentrating.
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