‘Not,’ the other continued argumentatively, ‘that I don’t love my old woman. She’s all right. And then there’s Gertie. ‘Ot stuff, but the real thing. But I say a man wants…’ He ejaculated, ‘Oh!’
The General, his hands in his pockets, very tall, thin, red–cheeked, his white hair combed forward in a fringe, sauntered towards the other table. It was not two yards, but it seemed a long saunter. He stood right over them, they looking up, open–eyed, like schoolboys at a balloon. He said:
‘I’m glad you’re enjoying our links, gentlemen.’
The bald man said: ‘We are! We are! First–class. A treat!’
‘But,’ the General said, ‘it isn’t wise to discuss one’s…eh…domestic circumstances…at…at mess, you know, or in a golf house. People might hear.’
The gentleman with the oily hair half rose and exclaime
