Mayfair 146._"
CHAPTER VI
Nigel played golf at Ranelagh, on the following Sunday morning, with
Jere Chalmers, a young American in the Diplomatic Service, who had just
arrived in London and brought a letter of introduction to him. They had
a pleasant game and strolled off from the eighteenth green to the
dressing rooms on the best of terms with each other.
"Say, Dorminster," his young companion enjoined, "let's get through this
fixing-up business quickly. I've had a kind of feeling for a cocktail,
these last four holes, which I can't exactly put into words. Besides, I
want to have a word or two with you before the others come down."
"I shan't be a minute," Nigel promised. "I'm going to change into
flannels after lunch--that is, if you don't mind playing a set or two at
tennis. My cousin-in-law Maggie Trent, whom you'll meet at luncheon, is
rather keen, and she doesn't care about golf."
"I'm game for anything," the other agreed, lifting his head spluttering
from the basin. "Gee, that's good! Get a move on, there's a good fellow.
I have a fancy for just five minutes with you out on the lawn, with the
ice chinking in our glasses."
Nigel finished smoothing his hair, and the two men strolled through the
hall, gave an order to a red-coated attendant, and found a secluded
table under a marvellous tree in the gardens on the other side. Chalmers
had become a little thoughtful.
"Dorminster," he declared, "yours is a wonderful country.
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