George grinned. The portrait in the window seemed friendly. He obeyed.
Bailly ran his hand over George's muscles. His young eyes widened.
"Ever play football?"
George shook his head doubtfully.
"Not what you would call really playing. Why? Would football help?"
"Provided one's the right stuff otherwise, would being a god help one climb Olympus?" Bailly wanted to know.
He indicated the framed likeness in the window.
"That's Bill Gregory."
"Seems to me I've seen his name in the papers," George said.
Bailly stared.