"No, let us fight alone and let the best player win."

"Very well, Sir Robert; but you mustn't forget that I am handicapped."

"Don't look angry," she whispered to Alan as they strolled out into the
garden after lunch, "I must clear things up and know what we have to
face. I'll be back by tea-time, and we will have it out with my uncle."



The nine holes had been played, and by a single stroke Barbara had won
the match, which pleased her very much, for she had done her best, and
with such heavy odds in his favour Sir Robert, who had also done his
best, was no mean opponent, even for a player of her skill. Indeed the
fight had been quite earnest, for each party knew that it was but a
prelude to another and more serious fight, and looked upon the result as
in some sense an omen.

"I am conquered," he said in a voice in which vexation struggled with a
laugh, "and by a woman over whom I had an advantage. It is humiliating,
for I confess I do not like being beaten."

"Don't you think that women generally win if they mean to?" asked
Barbara. "I believe that when they fail, which is often enough, it
is because they don't care, or can't make up their minds. A woman in
earnest is a dangerous antagonist."

"Yes," he answered, "or the best of allies." Then he gave the clubs and
half-a-crown to the caddies, and when they were out of hearing, added,