Entellus returns: “My love of glory, my pride still holds strong, not beaten down by fear. It’s slow old age, that’s what dogs me now. My blood runs cold, my body’s chill, played out. But if I were now the man I was, full of the youth that spurs that bantam there, cocksure and strutting so— I’d need no bribe of a prize bull to bring me out. I have no use for trophies.”
