"
"Are you fond of Tennyson?"
"I worship him," said Sam reverently. "Those--" he glanced at his
cuff--"those Idylls of the King! I do not like to think what an ocean
voyage would be if I had not my Tennyson with me."
"We must read him together. He is my favourite poet!"
"We will! There is something about Tennyson...."
"Yes, isn't there! I've felt that myself so often!"
"Some poets are whales at epics and all that sort of thing, while
others call it a day when they've written something that runs to a
couple of verses, but where Tennyson had the bulge was that his long
game was just as good as his short. He was great off the tee and a
marvel with his chip-shots."
"That sounds as though you played golf."
"When I am not reading Tennyson, you can generally find me out on the
links. Do you play?"
"I love it. How extraordinary that we should have so much in common.
We really ought to be great friends."
He was pausing to select the best of three replies when the lunch bugle
sounded.
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