TOMMY. Well, I will. (He pours himself out some lemonade and takes a long drink.) I should have thought you would have been thirsty, driving down from London a day like this. (He finishes his drink.) Let's see, where was I up to? The sixth, wasn't it?
WENTWORTH. The sixth, Tommy. (With resignation) Only twelve more.
TOMMY. Yes, that's right. Well, at the seventh I got an absolutely topping drive, but my approach was sliced a bit. However, I chipped on within about six feet, and was down in four. Gerald took it in three, but I had a stroke, so I halved. Then the eighth I told you about.
WENTWORTH. Was that where you fell into the pond?
TOMMY. No, no; you're thinking of the fifth, where I topped my drive into the pond.
WENTWORTH. I knew the pond came into it somewhere. I hoped—I mean I thought you fell in.
TOMMY. Look here, you must remember the eighth, old chap; that was the one I did in one. Awful bit of luck.
WENTWORTH. Bit of luck for me too, Tommy.
TOMMY. Why?
WENTWORTH. Because now you can hurry on to the ninth.