[Illustration: "YES, SIR, THESE ZEPPELIN RAIDS--WORDS CAN'T DESCRIBE 'EM. THEY'RE--WELL, IF I MIGHT COIN A WORD, SIR--I THINK THEY'RE 'ORRIBLE!"]
"I suppose we can't motor over to Potwick, lunch at 'The George,' and play a round of golf?" said the Reverend Henry.
"Not without feeling rather--well, rotters and outsiders," said Sinclair regretfully.
"At least we couldn't of course go in the big car," said I, "and we should be almost bound to have lunch at that little tea-shop, and it wouldn't do to play a whole round of golf."
"It is rather a nice point," said Henry, "what one can do in War time without feeling that one is stamping oneself. Sinclair here was shooting pheasants a fortnight ago."
"Well, the birds were _there_, you know," said Sinclair, "and it's a rotten slow business catching them in traps. Besides, we sent them all to the Red Cross people."
"The weak spot about golf," said the Reverend Henry, "is that there's no way of sending the results to the Red Cross. There's really no other earthly reason why one shouldn't play. There's every reason why one should, but----"
"I haven't played since the War began," said I.
"Nor I. But I have a notion that if one played without caddies and with old balls----"
"Or got a refugee for a caddy and grossly overpaid him," Henry put in hopefully.
"I know what you want, Sinclair," said I. "I know perfectly well what you want. You would like to play golf, but you wouldn't feel comfortable unless you had a notice pinned to your back in some such terms as these--'THIS MAN, THOUGH HE MAY NOT LOOK IT, IS OVER 38; HE IS ALSO MEDICALLY UNFIT. HE HAS TWO BROTHERS AND A NEPHEW AT THE FRONT. HE HAS MORE THAN ONCE TAKEN THE CHAIR AT RECRUITING MEETINGS AND HE IS ENTERTAINING SEVEN BELGIANS. HE HAS ALREADY SENT THREE SWEATERS AND A PAIR OF SKI SOCKS TO THE FLEET. THIS IS THE FIRST HOLIDAY HE HAS HAD FOR THREE MONTHS, AND HE IS NOW PLAYING A ROUND OF GOLF.' Then you would feel all right."
"Yes, in your case, Sinclair, it is merely moral cowardice," said Henry. "But it's queer about golf. Every one admits that billiards is all right, and--I think--Badminton."
"Well, perhaps I am a bit over-sensitive," said I, "but I'm bound to say that even if I were playing billiards in a public place at present I should feel happier if I used the butt end of the cue."