“Playing golf to-day?” the soldier was saying. “Not bad links, these. Bunkers jolly stiff; regular infernos. I went round in eighty. Play much, eh?”
“For health’s sake.”
“Nonsense.”
“Dr. Glibly’s advice. I am his patient.”
“Pardon the remark, but you don’t look delicate.”
“Appearances are often fallacious.”
“As a matter of fact,” said the major, with confident frankness, “my friend Graham was only saying to me this afternoon that you were the most healthy-looking June rose he had ever seen blooming outside the Callydon pavilion. Now, I come to consider it, you do appear a trifle tired. Shut me up, you know, if you think I’m too personal.”
“I prefer frankness,” said Ophelia.
Maltravers displayed his white teeth.
“It makes life more rational,” he observed.