man must keep himself physically fit; but games are only a
means to an end. The object of all progress is to get a clear,
clean-sighted race, intellectual and broadminded. And I think physical
fitness is a great help in the production of a clear, clean mind. The
very clever man who is weak bodily is so apt to become a decadent; and
because he himself can't stand any real exertion, despises those who
can. Games are necessary as a means to an end. But Buller and all the
rest of the lot think games are the actual end. Look at the way a man
with his footer cap is idealised and worshipped. He may be an utter
rake; probably is, most likely he has no brains at all. If he ever had
them, he soon ceased to use them, and devotes all his energies to
athletic success. Why should we worship him? Merely because he can kick
a rotten football down a rotten field. It is this worship of athletics
that is so wrong."

"Oh, you are talking rot," burst out Gordon angrily; "the English race
is the finest in the whole world and has been bred on footer and
cricket. I own the Public School system has its faults; but not because
of games. It stamps out personality, tries to make types of us all,
refuses to allow us to think for ourselves. We have to read and pretend
to like what our masters tell us to. No freedom. But games are all
right. We all have our own interests. Poetry is my chief one at present.
But that doesn't blind me to the fact that games are what count. Where
should we be without them? And I damn well hope the House is not going
to get into a finicky, affected state of mind, despising them because
they are too slack to play them. That's why you hate them, Betteridge,
because you are no good at them. My great ambition is to be captain of
this House and win the Three Cock. Of course the worship of sport is all
right. Our fathers worshipped it, and damned good fellows they were,
too. I can't stand you when you talk like this. I am going to find
Lovelace; he has got a bit of sense."

The door slammed noisily behind him.

"He is very young," said Betteridge.

"Yes; and full of hopes," murmured Tester. "It is a pity to think he
will have to be so soon disillusioned. Very little remains the same for
long. Pleasure is very evanescent."

Betteridge looked at him a little curiously.

"I should not have thought you would have found that out," he said.

Tester shrugged.

"Oh, well, you know, even the fastest of us get tired of our lice