TOMMY (modestly). Awful fluke.
SIR JAMES (casually). Ah—well done. (To GERALD) Seventy-two—that's pretty good. That's five under bogey, Mr. Wentworth.
LADY FARRINGDON (to WENTWORTH). Gerald has always been so good at everything. Even as a baby.
TOMMY. He did the ninth in three, Letty. How's that for hot?
SIR JAMES (to WENTWORTH). You must stay till Thursday, if you can, and see the whole of the Surrey match. It isn't often Gerald gets a chance of playing for the county now. It's difficult for him to get away from the Foreign Office. Lord Edward was telling me at the club the other day—
LETTY (TO LADY FARRINGDON). Gerald dived off the Monk's Rock this morning. I'm glad I didn't see him. I should have been horribly frightened.
TOMMY (proudly). I saw him.
LETTY. Tommy, of course, slithered down over the limpets in the ordinary way.
LADY FARRINGDON (fondly). Oh, Gerald, how could you?
SIR JAMES (still talking to WENTWORTH). He tells me that Gerald is a marked man in the Service now.