192 ^NGELPAV E M E N T

"Not if sport is your business/' Mr. Golspie returned,
looking darkly mischievous. "We can't all be rich
amachures. Let the chaps have their six or seven pounus
a week. They earn it. If one lot of chaps can earn their
living by telling us to be good every Sunday—that is, If
you go to listen to 'em: I don't—why shouldn't another
lot be paid to knock a ball about every Saturday, without
all this talk of dirty business? It beats me. Unless it's
snobbery. Lot o' snobbery still about in this country*
It pops up all the time/'

"What is this argument all about?*' Miss Verever in-
quired. And, perhaps feeling that Mr. Golspie needed
a rebuke, she put on her most peculiar look and brought
out her most disturbing tone of voice, finally throwing
in a smile that was a tried veteran, an Old Guard.

But Mr. Golspie returned her gaze quite calmly, and
even conveyed a piece of fish, and far too large a piece,
to his mouth before replying. "We*re arguing about
football and cricket. I don't suppose you're interested.
I'm not much, myself. I like billiards. That's one thing
about coming back to this country, you can always get a
good game of billiards. Proper tables, y'know."

"I used to be very fond of a game of billiards, snooker
too/' said Mr. Pearson, nodding his head so that his fat
cheeks shook like beef jellies, "when I was out in Singa-
pore. There were some splendid players at the club
there, splendid players, make breaks of forty and fifty,
But I wasn't one of them. Tee-tee-tee—"

"We went to see Susie Dean and Jerry Jerningham

the other night," said Major Trape, turning to Mrs.

Dersingham. "Good show. Very clevah, very clevah.

You been to any shows lately, Mrs. Dersingham?"

"That's true," Mrs. Pearson informed her host and