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 He had succeeded in acquiring a bag of fine clubs and some golfing jargon. He never knew there was any enjoyment in the game until Peter Kennedy walked round the Pineland course with him and handicapped him into winning a match. After that he wanted to play every day and always, talked of prolonging his stay, of coming down again. Margaret reproached Peter for what he had done.

"I did it to please you… I thought you wanted them to be amused."

"If that was all I wanted I would have stayed in London," she retorted. She was extraordinarily and almost contemptuously straightforward with Peter Kennedy. She knew that with a man of his limited experience it was unnecessary to be subtle. She may have sometimes encouraged his approaches, but the greater part of the time snubbed him unmercifully.

"You don't put yourself on the same level as Gabriel Stanton, do you?" she asked him scornfully one day when he was gloomily complaining that "a fellow never had a chance."

"If I were not more of a man than that I'd kick myself!"

"More of a man!"

"You wouldn't get me to stay at the hotel." She flushed and said:

"Well, you can go now. I've had enough of you, you tire me."