"Are you entirely sound? Won't you have witch-hazel, arnica, brandy?"
"Oh, thanks; nothing. I've got my breath again and am all right."
"But they always sprain their ankles."
"Yes, but I'm not a romantic young person. I'll be sorry if that caddy has lost my best driver."
"He's out on the battlefield now looking for it," said John, indicating their two caddies, who were gathering up the lost implements.
"I think you're away," John added, musingly.
"Yes; for the club house."
"That's poor golf, to give up just because you're bunkered. And yet my caddy said you were the greatest."
They walked over the course toward the club house, discussing their encounter.