tter with me to-day, Robert, old man?" I asked him as I
dried myself.

He blinked lazily, but contributed no suggestion.

"It's no good looking bored," I went on, "because I'm going to talk
about myself, however much it bores you. Here am I, as fit as a prize
fighter; living in the open air for I don't know how long; eating
good, plain food; bathing every morning--sea bathing, mind you; and
yet what's the result? I feel beastly."

Bob yawned and gave a little whine.

"Yes," I said, "I know I'm in love. But that can't be it, because I
was in love just as much a week ago, and I felt all right then. But
isn't she an angel, Bob? Eh? Isn't she? But how about Tom Chase? Don't
you think he's a dangerous man? He calls her by her Christian name,
you know, and behaves generally as if she belonged to him. And then
he sees her every day, while I have to trust to meeting her at odd
times, and then I generally feel like such a fool I can't think of
anything to talk about except golf and the weather. He probably sings
duets with her after dinner. And you know what comes of duets after
dinner."

Here Bob, who had been trying for some time to find a decent excuse
for getting away, pretended to see something of importance at the
other end of the Cob, and trotted off to investigate it, leaving me to
finish dressing by myself.

"Of course," I said to myself, "it may be merely hunger. I may be all
right after breakfast, but at present I seem to be working up for a
really fine fit of the blues."

I whistled for Bob and started for home. On the beach I saw the
professor some little distance away and waved my towel in a friendly
manner. He made no reply.

Of course it was possible that he had not seen me, but for some reason
his attitude struck me as ominous. As far as I could see, he was
looking straight at me, and he was not a shortsighted man. I could
think of no reason why he should cut me. We had met on the links on
the previous morning, and he had been friendliness itself. He had
called me "me dear boy," supplied me with ginger beer at the
clubhouse, and generally behaved as if he had been David and I
Jonathan. Yet in certain moods we are inclined to make mountains out
of mole-hills, and I went on my way, puzzled and uneasy, with a
distinct impression that I had received the cut direct.

I felt hurt. What had I done that Providence should make things so
unpleasant for me? It would be a little hard, as Ukridge would have
said