'
They sat and smoked in silence.
'I've got it,' said Sigsbee suddenly. 'Gossett is a fine golfer, but
nervous. If we upset his nerves enough, he will go right off his
stroke. Couldn't we think of some way?'
McCay reached out for his glass.
'Yours is a noble nature, Sigsbee,' he said.
'Oh, no,' said the paragon modestly. 'Have another cigar?'
* * * * *
In order that the render may get the mental half-Nelson on the plot of
this narrative which is so essential if a short story is to charm,
elevate, and instruct, it is necessary now, for the nonce (but only for
the nonce), to inspect Archibald's past life.
Archibald, as he had stated to McCay, was engaged to a Miss
Milsom--Miss Margaret Milsom. How few men, dear reader, are engaged to
girls with _svelte_ figures, brown hair, and large blue eyes, now
sparkling and vivacious, now dreamy and soulful, but always large and
blue! How few, I say. You are, dear reader, and so am I, but who else?
Archibald was one of the few who happened to be.
He was happy. It is true that Margaret's mother was not, as it were,
wrapped up in him. She exhibited none of that effervescent joy at his
appearance which we like to see in our mothers-in-law elect. On the
contrary, she generally cried bitterly whenever she saw him, and at the
end of ten minutes was apt to retire sobbing to her room, where she
remained in a state of semi-coma till an advanced hour.
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