"
"Yes, but it's worth a try, isn't it? Wouldn't it be better to
try to save it, so you could play again, rather than give up your
livelihood?"
"It's not that simple."
"Why? People get things like that fixed all the time, don't they?
You're a champion. How can you just stop playing?"
"That's not what I mean. I don't want it to be like this."
She persisted. "I still don't understand. What's so complicated
about your case?"
Abruptly he reined his horse to a halt and she brought her horse
around. He was looking off into the hills. For all of his
broadness and strength, his maleness, she saw that she had
unknowingly struck a sensitive chord in him. "Jean-Pierre," she
said, trying to catch his eye, "I didn't mean to upset you. If I
have, I'm sorry."
"No. That's not it. You see," he said with a faint smile, "I am
an independent."
"I'm sorry, really. You don't have to go on if you don't want
to."
"But I do. I do want to go on. Right now, in Deauville, where I
have lived most of my life as a polo player, the tournament is
underway. Eight teams converge to compete for fifteen cups. The
most coveted is the Coupe d'Or. There is money as well. I, of
course, was on the French team. I had a sponsor for the
tournament, but because of this damned thing, I had to drop out."
"But if you get it taken care of, can't you play again, and make
next year's competition?"
"That is the problem, getting it taken care of.
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