CHAPTER TEN
Gamadge Cultivates PoiseMrs. Barclay was too much absorbed to notice her audience. She removed her hand from her eyes, sought vainly about her feet for her wooden tee, removed another from her hatband, and pushed it firmly into the earth. She then placed a grimy ball upon it, straightened, grasped her driver, and raised it. Her long arms in their tight pink sleeves descended in a magnificent follow through, and the ball shot grandly over the rough and landed well up in the middle of the fairway.
Gamadge applauded, and so, after a pause, did Alma Cowden.
Mrs. Barclay turned, and regarded them benignantly. “That was a lucky one,” she said.
“More management than luck, Mrs. Barclay. I congratulate you.”
“My short game is very poor, as you know. How nice that you feel able to b
