"Animal spirits!" said Sam tolerantly. "Pure animal spirits! I like to
see them. But, of course, I love all dogs."

"Oh, do you? So do I!"

"I only wish they didn't fight so much. I'm always stopping dog
fights."

"I do admire a man who knows what to do at a dog fight. I'm afraid I'm
rather helpless myself. There never seems anything to catch hold of."
She looked down. "Have you been reading? What is the book?"

"It's a volume of Tennyson."

"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