"This makes twice you've kept me waiting.

I warn you don't let it happen again!" Under the seeming banter of her tone lurked real resentment.

But he, with a smile--partly due to a finger too much Scotch--only answered, in a low tone: "You're adorable, today, Kate! The combination of fresh air and annoyance has painted the most wonderful roses on your cheeks!" She shrugged her shoulders with a little motion she had inherited from French ancestry, stooped, set her golf ball on the little mound of sand, exactly to suit her, and raised her driver on high.
"Nine holes," said she, "and I'm going to beat you, today!" He frowned a little at the spirit of the threat, for any self-assertion in a woman crossed his grain; but soon forgot his pique in admiration of the drive.
Swishing, her club flashed down in a quick circle.

_Crack_! It struck the gutta-percha squarely.

The little white sphere zipped away like a rocket, rose in a far trajectory, up, up, toward the water-hazard at the foot of the grassy slope, then down in a long curve.
Even while the girl's cry of "Fore!" was echoing across the green, the ball struck earth, ricochetted and sped on, away, across the turf, till it came to rest not twenty yards from the putting green of the first hole.
"Wheeoo!" whistled Waldron.