"MY DEAR ASS,—I gather that you aren't a golfer; well, why not begin on Thursday? There will be nobody else playing probably. Meet me at Victoria eleven-five. My brother is away, and I will lend you his clubs."
Me to Him
(Telegram)
"Is your brother out of England? Wire reply."
Him to Me
"Yes. Sicily."
Me to Him
"Right you are then."
CHAPTER II
"You know," I said to Thomas in the train, "I have played a little on a very small island off the coast of Scotland, but it was such a very small island that we never used a driver at all, or—what's that other thing called?—a brassy. We should have been into the sea in no time. But I rather fancy myself with a putter."