She suffered his touch without appearing to notice it.
"Ah, you mustn't talk like that!" he pleaded.

"Do you know what you make me feel like ?" She came back from the world of her own unhappy imaginings.
"Really, I forgot myself," she declared, with a little smile.

"Never mind, it does one good sometimes.

One up, are you?
Henceforth, then, golf--all the rigour of the game, mind." He fell in with her mood, and their conversation touched only upon the game.

On the last green he suffered defeat and acknowledged it with a little grimace.
"If I might say so, Miss Fentolin," he protested, "you are a little too good for your handicap.