"Luella?" he asked.
"She was the first."
"Jane?"
"And Jane."
"And Agnes?"
"Agnes," I said, "is right."
"H'm!" said Vincent Jopp. And for the first time since I had known him
I thought that he was ill at ease.
* * * * *
The day of the final dawned bright and clear. At least, I was not awake
at the time to see, but I suppose it did; for at nine o'clock, when I
came down to breakfast, the sun was shining brightly. The first
eighteen holes were to be played before lunch, starting at eleven.
Until twenty minutes before the hour Vincent Jopp kept me busy taking
dictation, partly on matters connected with his wheat deal and partly
on a signed article dealing with the Final, entitled "How I Won." At
eleven sharp we were out on the first tee.
Jopp's opponent was a nice-looking young man, but obviously nervous. He
giggled in a distraught sort of way as he shook hands with my employer.
"Well, may the best man win," he said.
"I have arranged to do so," replied Jopp, curtly, and started to
address his ball.
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