"Blood's the word," said James, gulping the ruby fluid down. "Nothing like blood, sir, in hosses, dawgs, AND men. Why, only last term, just before I was rusticated, that is, I mean just before I had the measles, ha, ha--there was me and Ringwood of Christchurch, Bob Ringwood, Lord Cinqbars' son, having our beer at the Bell at Blenheim, when the Banbury bargeman offered to fight either of us for a bowl of punch. I couldn't. My arm was in a sling; couldn't even take the drag down--a brute of a mare of mine had fell with me only two days before, out with the Abingdon, and I thought my arm was broke. Well, sir, I couldn't finish him, but Bob had his coat off at once--he stood up to the Banbury man for three minutes, and polished him off in four rounds easy. Gad, how he did drop, sir, and what was it? Blood, sir, all blood."
"You don't drink, James," the ex-attache continued. "In my time at Oxford, the men passed round the bottle a little quicker than you young fellows seem to do."

"Blood's the word," said James, gulping the port down. "Nothing like blood, sir, in hosses, dawgs, and men. Why, only last term, just before I was rusticated, I mean just before I had the measles, ha, ha - there was me and Bob Ringwood, Lord Cinqbars' son, having a beer at the Bell at Blenheim, when the Banbury bargeman offered to fight either of us for a bowl of punch. I couldn't. My arm was in a sling; a brute of a mare had fell with me at the Abingdon hunt. But Bob had his coat off at once - he stood up to the Banbury man for three minutes, and polished him off in four rounds easy. Blood, sir, all blood."
"You're not drinking, James," Pitt said. "In my time at Oxford, the men passed round the bottle a little quicker than you young fellows seem to do."
