"Many people staying here, Mrs. Costin?" he asked.
"No, sir—only two ladies at present, but we expect to be full for the week-end." She looked at Marie. "There are fine golf links close to us," she explained.
"I seem to be hopelessly out of fashion because I don't play golf," Marie said when she and Feathers were alone again. "I think I am beginning to hate the very name of it."
"You must let me teach you to play."
Marie sighed and looked out of the window to the narrow country road. "I think I'm too tired to learn anything," she said despondently.
Feathers frowned; he thought she looked very frail, and in spite of his words he could not picture her swinging a club and ploughing through all weathers as Dorothy Webber had done in Scotland.
"You've no right to be tired," he said angrily. "A child like you!"
She looked up, the ready tears coming to her eyes.
"Do you think I'm such a child?" she asked. "That's what Chris always says—a kid, he calls me! And yet I don't feel so very young, you know."
"I should like to be as young," Feathers said.