Nigel played golf at Ranelagh, on the following Sunday morning, with Jere Chalmers, a young American in the Diplomatic Service, who had just arrived in London and brought a letter of introduction to him.

They had a pleasant game and strolled off from the eighteenth green to the dressing rooms on the best of terms with each other.
"Say, Dorminster," his young companion enjoined, "let's get through this fixing-up business quickly.

I've had a kind of feeling for a cocktail, these last four holes, which I can't exactly put into words.

Besides, I want to have a word or two with you before the others come down." "I shan't be a minute," Nigel promised.

"I'm going to change into flannels after lunch--that is, if you don't mind playing a set or two at tennis.