lies, or may I tee up and lose a stroke? If I have to play it where it
lies, I suppose a niblick would be the club?"

It was at this moment that Betty came in. One glance at her pale, set
face told me that there was to be a scene, and I would have retired,
but that she was between me and the door.

"Hallo, dear," said Mortimer, greeting her with a friendly waggle of
his niblick. "I'm bunkered in the piano. My approach-putt was a little
strong, and I over-ran the green."

"Mortimer," said the girl, tensely, "I want to ask you one question."

"Yes, dear? I wish, darling, you could have seen my drive at the eighth
just now. It was a pip!"

Betty looked at him steadily.

"Are we engaged," she said, "or are we not?"

"Engaged? Oh, to be married? Why, of course. I tried the open stance
for a change, and----"

"This morning you promised to take me for a ride. You never appeared.
Where were you?"

"Just playing golf."

"Golf! I'm sick of the very name!"