“Let me see, Rendall,” he said, “how old are you?”
“Sixteen, sir.”
“Sixteen. You are a precocious boy. You have revolutionary qualities that do not altogether please me. You are far too introspective, and introspection is a dangerous thing in unskilled hands. It is a pity you do not cultivate a greater taste for outdoor games.”
“Thank you, sir, but I don’t want to shine in after life as a cup-tie footballer or a Rugby international.”
“Possibly not, but healthy exercise promotes a healthy mind, my boy.”
“I believe, sir, that is the general opinion.”
“You venture to doubt it?”
“Well, sir, I would not attach much value to a champion heavyweight’s views on a matter of æsthetics.”
“Æsthetics are beside the point altogether. Too much æsthetics is quite as bad as—as—”
“Too much football, sir?”