“Quite right, Bradbury darling. And anything else you want in that way you will get, won’t you?”
“I will,” said Bradbury Fisher.
CHAPTER III
KEEPING IN WITH VOSPER
The young man in the heather-mixture plus fours, who for some time had been pacing the terrace above the ninth green like an imprisoned jaguar, flung himself into a chair and uttered a snort of anguish.
“Women,” said the young man, “are the limit.”
The Oldest Member, ever ready to sympathise with youth in affliction, turned a courteous ear.
“What,” he inquired, “has the sex been pulling on you now?”
“My wife is the best little woman in the world.”
“I can readily believe it.”
“But,” continued the young man, “I would like to bean her with a brick, and bean her good. I told her, when she wanted to play a round with me this afternoon, that we must start early, as the days are drawing in. What did she do? Having got into her things, she decided that she didn’t like the look of them and made a complete change. She then powdered her nose for ten minutes. And when finally I got her on to the first tee, an hour late, she went back into the clubhouse to ’phone to her dressmaker. It will be dark before we’ve played six holes. If I had my way, golf-clubs would make a rigid rule that no wife be allowed to play with her husband.”