"While you were away I have been thinking. James, old man, do you really love this girl?" James stared. A spasm of pain twisted Peter's face. "Suppose," he said in a low voice, "she were not all you--we--think she is!" "What do you mean?" "Nothing, nothing." "Miss Forrester is an angel." "Yes, yes. Quite so." "I know what it is," said James, passionately. "You're trying to put me off my stroke. You know that the least thing makes me lose my form." "No, no!" "You hope that you can take my mind off the game and make me go to pieces, and then you'll win the match." "On the contrary," said Peter. "I intend to forfeit the match." James reeled. "What!" "I give up." "But--but----" James shook with emotion. His voice quavered. "Ah!" he cried. "I see now: I understand! You are doing this for me because I am your pal. Peter, this is noble! This is the sort of thing you read about in books. I've seen it in the movies. But I can't accept the sacrifice." "You must!" "No, no!" "I insist!" "Do you mean this?" "I give her up, James, old man. I--I hope you will be happy." "But I don't know what to say. How can I thank you?" "Don't thank me." "But, Peter, do you fully realize what you are doing? True, I am one up, but there are nine holes to go, and I am not right on my game today. You might easily beat me. Have you forgotten that I once took forty-seven at the dog-leg hole? This may be one of my bad days. Do you understand that if you insist on giving up I shall go to Miss Forrester tonight and propose to her?" "I understand." "And yet you stick to it that you are through?" "I do. And, by the way, there's no need for you to wait till tonight. I saw Miss Forrester just now outside the tennis court. She's alone." James turned crimson. "Then I think perhaps----" "You'd better go to her at once." "I will." James extended his hand. "Peter, old man, I shall never forget this." "That's all right." "What are you going to do?" "Now, do you mean? Oh, I shall potter round the second nine. If you want me, you'll find me somewhere about." "You'll come to the wedding, Peter?" said James, wistfully. "Of course," said Peter. "Good luck." He spoke cheerily, but, when the other had turned to go, he stood looking after him thoughtfully. Then he sighed a heavy sigh. * * * * * James approached Miss Forrester with a beating heart. She made a charming picture as she stood there in the sunlight, one hand on her hip, the other swaying a tennis racket. "How do you do?" said James. "How are you, Mr. Todd? Have you been playing golf?" "Yes." "With Mr. Willard?" "Yes. We were having a match." "Golf," said Grace Forrester, "seems to make men very rude. Mr. Willard left me without a word in the middle of our conversation." James was astonished. "Were you talking to Peter?" "Yes. Just now. I can't understand what was the matter with him. He just turned on his heel and swung off."