The caddie took up the bag and went lazily away, stopping to take several practice swings with one of Marriott's drivers. The boy was always swinging this club in the hope that Marriott would give it to him.
Marriott placed his hands on the rail, sprang over it, and drew up a chair.
"Well, this is sudden," he said, "but it's fine for you." He took out a cigarette. "How did it happen?"
"Do you want the real reason?" she asked.
"Of course; I've a passion for the real."
"I'm going in order to get away."
Marriott was sheltering in his palms a match for his cigarette. He looked up suddenly, the cigarette still between his lips.
"Away from what?"
"Oh, from--everything!" She waved her hands despairingly. Marriott did not understand.
"That's it," she said, looking him in the eyes. He saw that she was very serious. He lighted his cigarette, and flung away the match that was just beginning to burn his fingers.