Then he said slowly: "Well, in a way I suppose you're right.

But, all the same, it's the sporting instinct--the cultivated sporting instinct--which has made the Englishman what he is.

It's that which won the war, you know." "It's a big price to pay.

Couldn't you"-- a sudden charming smile curving her lips--"couldn't you do it--I mean cultivate the sporting instinct--by polo and things like that ?" "It's not the same." Trenby shook his head.

"You don't understand.
It's the desire to find your quarry, to go through anything rather than to let him beat you--no matter how done or tired you feel." "It may be very good for you," allowed Nan.