Golf

Frederick Pilcher drew out his handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead.
'You don't think, John, that you might ultimately come to love Agnes Flack?'
'I do not.'
'Love frequently comes after marriage, i believe.'
'So does suicide.'
_____________________________________________________________________

'Why are you dressed like that?' John Gooch uttered an exclamation. 'I see it all. You think it will put you off your game.'
'Some idea of that kind did occur to me,' replied Frederick Pilcher, airily.
'You fiend!'
'Tut, tut, John. These are hard words to use to a friend.'
'You are no friend of mine.' ...

... and he fixed Frederick Pilcher with a hypnotic gaze.
'You are going to play well. You are going to play well. You -'
'Stop it!' cried Frederick Pilcher
'You are going to play well. You are going -' ...

... John Gooch spun a coin. Frederick Pilcher called tails. The coin fell heads up.
'Drive off, reptile,' said Sidney McMurdo.

As John Gooch addressed his ball, he was aware of a strange sensation which he could not immediately analyse. It was only when, after waggling two or three times, he started to draw his club back that it flashed upon him that this strange sensation was confidence. For the first time in his life he seemed to have no doubt that the ball, well and truly struck, would travel sweetly down the middle of the freeway. And then the hideous truth dawned on him. His subconscious self had totally misunderstood the purport of his recent remarks and had got the whole thing nicely muddled up.

Much has been written of the subconscious self, and all that has been written goes to show that of all the thick-headed, blundering chumps who take everything they hear literally, it is the worst. Anybody of any intelligence would have realised that when John Gooch said, 'You are going to play well,' he was speaking to Frederick Pilcher; but his subconscious self had missed the point completely. It had heard John Gooch say, 'You are going to play well,' and it was seeing that he did so.