making directly for the clubhouse straight up the sacred fairway. One thing about Willie Woodbine, he knew how to make an entrance. Joe turned and walked off the tee. Chip had been right. It was an easy game. And the roar of the butterflies was nothing but applause for a job well done. The Bermuda Triangle stood stock still, looking as petrified as he'd felt only a few moments earlier. As he passed them, he gave them an almost sympathetic smile. 'Gotcha!' said Joe.
Вы читаете The roar of butterflies
