“Morning,” he said later at the “Nineteenth Hole” where the stranger was taking a drink.
“Good morning,” said the stranger rather stiffly. “It is evident,” thought Dangerfield, “he does not know who I am.”
“Going ’round again after lunch?” Dangerfield demanded.
“I think so,” the stranger responded.
“We might play together,” said Dangerfield. “I haven’t a partner.”
“I’m afraid that won’t make a good match,” Trent told him. “Surely there is some one more your strength who would make a better match of it?”
“Huh!” grunted the other, “think I don’t play well enough, eh?”
“I know it,” said Trent composedly.
Dangerfield regarded him sourly.
“You’re not overburdened with modesty, young man.”