What happened, put quite briefly, was this. Bogey for the tenth is four. I hooked my drive off the tee and down a little gully to the left, put a good iron shot into a bunker on the right, and than ran down a hundred-yard putt with a niblick for a three. One of those difficult down-hill putts.
"Luck!" said Henry, as soon as he could speak.
"I've been missing those lately," I said.
"Your match," said Henry; "I can't play against luck like that."
It was true that he had given me ten bisques, but, on the other hand, I could have given him a dozen at the seventh and still have beaten him.
However, I was too magnanimous to point that out. All I said was,
"Ten and eight."
And then I added thoughtfully, "I don't think I've ever won by more than that."
PAT BALL
"You'll play tennis?" said my hostess absently. "That's right. Let me introduce you to Miss—er—urn."
"Oh, we've met before," smiled Miss—I've forgotten the name again now.