" Facing which somewhat puzzling
phenomenon, Denman plunged into his work again.
Meantime Cameron was making his way towards the offices of the
Metropolitan Transportation & Cartage Company, oppressed with an
unacknowledged but none the less real sense of unfitness, and haunted
by a depressing sense of the deficiency of his own training, and of
the training afforded the young men of his class at home. As he started
along he battled with his depression. True enough, he had no skill
in the various accomplishments that Mr. Denman seemed to consider
essential; he had no experience in business, he was not fit for office
work--office work he loathed; but surely there was some position where
his talents would bring him recognition and fortune at last. After all,
Mr. Denman was only a Colonial, and with a Colonial's somewhat narrow
view of life. Who was he to criticise the system of training that for
generations had been in vogue at home? Had not Wellington said "that
England's battles were first won on the football fields of Eton and
Rugby," or something like that? Of course, the training that might fit
for a distinguished career in the British army might not necessarily
insure success on the battle fields of industry and commerce. Yet
surely, an International player should be able to get somewhere!
At this point in his cogitations Cameron was arrested by a memory
that stabbed him like a knife-thrust; the awful moment when upon the
Inverleith grounds, in the face of the Welsh forward-line, he had
faltered and lost the International.
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