It was "Lily's" constant declaration
that he "positively loathed" football, although his persistent
attendance at all the great matches rather belied this declaration. "It
is the one thing in you, Miss Bessie, that I deplore, 'the fly in the
pot--' no, 'the flaw--' ah, that's better--'the flaw in the matchless
pearl.'"
"How sweet of you," murmured Miss Brodie.
"Yes, indeed," continued "Lily," wreathing his tapering fingers, "it is
your devotion to those so-called athletic games,--games! ye gods!--the
chief qualifications for excellence in which appear to be brute strength
and a blood-thirsty disposition; as witness Dunn there. I was positively
horrified last International. There he was, our own quiet, domestic,
gentle Dunn, raging through that howling mob of savages like a
bloody Bengal tiger.--Rather apt, that!--A truly awful and degrading
exhibition!"
"Ah, perfectly lovely!" murmured Miss Brodie ecstatically. "I can see
him yet."
"Miss Brodie, how can you!" exclaimed "Lily," casting up his eyes in
horror towards heaven. "But it was ever thus! In ancient days upon
the bloody sands of the arena, fair ladies were wont to gaze with
unrelenting eyes and thumbs turned down--or up, was it--?"
"Excellent! But how clever of them to gaze with their thumbs in that
way!"
"Please don't interrupt," said "Lily" severely; "I have just 'struck my
gait,' as that barbaric young Colonial, Martin, another of your bloody,
brawny band, would say.
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