"Good God! Not the football player?"
"I did play football—some time ago."
"I saw you against Cornell—when was it?—two years ago. You were magnificent. How does it happen that—"
"That I'm here?" Hugo looked directly into Shayne's eyes.
"Well—I have no intention of prying into your affairs."
"Then I'll tell you. Why not?" Hugo drank his wine. "I killed a man—in the game—and quit. Beat it."
Shayne accepted the statement calmly. "That's tough. I can understand your desire to get out from under. Things like that are bad when you're young."
"What else could I have done?"
"Nothing. What are you going to do? Rather, what were you going to do?"
"I don't know," Hugo answered slowly. "What do you do? What do people generally do?" He felt the question was drunken, but Shayne accepted it at its face value.