“What is the meaning of this?” thundered William. “Anastatia, what are you doing in this man’s rooms?”
“Giving him a golf lesson, of course. And I wish you wouldn’t interrupt.”
“Yes, yes,” said Rodney, a little testily. “Don’t interrupt, Bates, there’s a good fellow. Surely you have things to occupy you elsewhere?”
“We’ll go upstairs,” said Anastatia, “where we can be alone.”
“You will not go upstairs,” barked William.
“We shall get on much better there,” explained Anastatia. “Rodney has fitted up the top-floor back as an indoor practising room.”
Jane darted forward with a maternal cry.
“My poor child, has the scoundrel dared to delude you by pretending to be a golfer? Darling, he is nothing of the kind.”
Mr. Reginald Brown coughed. For some moments he had been twitching restlessly.
“Talking of golf,” he said, “it might interest you to hear of a little experience I had the other day at Marshy Moor. I had got a nice drive off the tee, nothing record-breaking, you understand, but straight and sweet. And what was my astonishment on walking up to play my second to find—”