"I am not a woman-hater," I protested, "but I—I don't like to——"
"Some day Smith will meet a fair creature on the golf links and lose his drive and his heart at the same time," declared Chilvers. "That was the way I was tripped up and carried into bondage," he added, his hand wandering to his wife's waist.
"With the exception of Mrs. Chilvers," I said, and I came very near making no exceptions, Miss Ross and Miss Dangerfield having left us—"with the exception of Mrs. Chilvers, I have yet to see the woman who shows to advantage with a golf regalia. If Miss Harding is beautiful enough to overcome the handicap which always attaches to the female golf duffer, she can give Venus odds and beat her handily."
"You will meet a golfing Venus some day," smiled Mrs. Chilvers, willing that her sex should be attacked so long as she was exempt.
"That's what he will," added Chilvers; "I'm agile, but I slipped."
"The artists who depict the woman golfer as graceful and attractive," I continued, "must draw from imagination rather than from models. In my humble opinion a woman shows to better advantage climbing a steep flight of stairs than in any possible posture in striking a golf ball."
"The ladies—God bless 'em—and keep them off the links!" muttered
Marshall.
"Why, Charlie Marshall!" exclaimed Mrs. Quivers. "I shall see that your wife hears that!"
"Don't tell her; she'll beat him terribly," warned Chilvers. "Did you ever hear, Boyd, why our friend Smith is so sour when he sees a lady on these links?"
Chilvers has told that story on me many times, but Boyd declared he had not heard it.