"If I had only had Clarke's chance, or even Hexford's," was among his complaints.

"But what can I hope now?
The snow has been trampled till it is one solid cake of ice, to the very edge of the golf-links.

Beyond that, the distance is too great for minute inspection.

Yet it will have to be gone over, inch by inch, before I shall feel satisfied.

I must know how much of his story is to be believed, and how much of it we can safely set aside." He ended by wandering down on the golf-links.