"He may, for instance, be able to dance the pavane with grace and distinction."
"Quite so."
"Well then, will you take this giggling child away and explain to him that I am not such an ass as I appear? Tell him that the intellectuals of Brook Green think highly of my mental powers. Assure him that in many of the best houses at Wandsworth Common I am held to be an amusing raconteur. Remind him of my villanelle 'To Autumn.' For heaven's sake make him understand that my reputation does not stand or fall with my ability to use this brassy thing. I'm not a golf professional."
Thomas allowed himself to smile. "I will tell him," he said, "that you are not a golf professional."
We veered right round to the east with my fourth and then I became desperate.
"Why," I shouted, "do I hit the ball with a ridiculous club like this? I could send it farther with a cricket bat. I could push it straighter with a billiard cue. Where's that bag? I am going to have a lucky dip."
I dipped, and came up with what Thomas called a cleek. "Now then," I said. I didn't stop to address the Colonel, I simply lashed at him. He flew along the ground at a terrific pace.
"Well kept down," said Thomas admiringly.
"By Jove!" I cried, "that's never going to stop. See how he flies along ... now he breasts the slope ... look, he is taking the water jump.... Ah, he has crossed his legs, he's down."
"This," I said to Thomas as we walked after the Colonel, "is golf. A glorious game."