“Animal spirits!” said Sam tolerantly. “Pure animal spirits. I like to see them. But, of course, I love all dogs.”
“Oh, do you? So do I!”
“I only wish they didn’t fight so much. I’m always stopping dog-fights.”
“I do admire a man who knows what to do at a dog-fight. I’m afraid I’m rather helpless myself. There never seems anything to catch hold of.” She looked down. “Have you been reading? What is the book?”
“The book? Oh, this. It’s a volume of Tennyson.”
“Are you fond of Tennyson?”
“I worship him,” said Sam reverently.
“Those——” he glanced at his cuff—“those ‘Idylls of the King!’ I do not like to think what an ocean voyage would be if I had not my Tennyson with me.”
“We must read him together. He is my favourite poet!”
“We will! There is something about Tennyson....”