IV + 

Mark Tietjens, his umbrella swinging sheepishly, his bowler hat pushed firmly down on to his ears to give him a sense of stability, walked beside the weeping girl in the quadrangle. + 

вАЬI say,вАЭ he said, вАЬdonвАЩt give it to old Christopher too beastly hard about his militarist opinions.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Remember, heвАЩs going out tomorrow and heвАЩs one of the best.вАЭ + 

She looked at him quickly, tears remaining upon her cheeks, and then away. + 

вАЬOne of the best,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬA fellow who never told a lie or did a dishonourable thing in his life. Let him down easy, thereвАЩs a good girl. You ought to, you know.вАЭ + 

The girl, her face turned away, said: + 

вАЬIвАЩd lay down my life for him!вАЭ + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬI know you would. I know a good woman when I see one. And think! He probably considers that he isвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ offering his life, you know, for you. And me, too, of course!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs a different way of looking at things.вАЭ He gripped her awkwardly but irresistibly by the upper arm. It was very thin under her blue cloth coat. He said to himself: + 

вАЬBy Jove! Christopher likes them skinny. ItвАЩs the athletic sort that attracts him. This girl is as clean run asвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He couldnвАЩt think of anything as clean run as Miss Wannop, but he felt a warm satisfaction at having achieved an intimacy with her and his brother. He said: + 

вАЬYou arenвАЩt going away? Not without a kinder word to him. You think! He might be killed.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Besides. Probably heвАЩs never killed a German. He was a liaison officer. Since then heвАЩs been in charge of a dump where they sift army dustbins. To see how they can give the men less to eat. That means that the civilians get more. You donвАЩt object to his giving civilians more meat?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It isnвАЩt even helping to kill Germans.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He felt her arm press his hand against her warm side. + 

вАЬWhatвАЩs he going to do now?вАЭ she asked. Her voice wavered. + 

вАЬThatвАЩs what IвАЩm here about,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬIвАЩm going in to see old Hogarth. You donвАЩt know Hogarth? Old General Hogarth? I think I can get him to give Christopher a job with the transport. A safe job. Safeish! No beastly glory business about it. No killing beastly Germans either.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I beg your pardon, if you like Germans.вАЭ + 

She drew her arm from his hand in order to look him in the face. + 

вАЬOh!вАЭ she said, вАЬyou donвАЩt want him to have any beastly military glory!вАЭ The colour came back into her face: she looked at him open eyed. + 

He said: + 

вАЬNo! Why the devil should he?вАЭ He said to himself: вАЬSheвАЩs got enormous eyes: a good neck: good shoulders: good breasts: clean hips: small hands. She isnвАЩt knock-kneed: neat ankles. She stands well on her feet. Feet not too large! Five foot four, say! A real good filly!вАЭ He went on aloud: вАЬWhy in the world should he want to be a beastly soldier? HeвАЩs the heir to Groby. That ought to be enough for one man.вАЭ + 

Having stood still sufficiently long for what she knew to be his critical inspection, she put her hand in turn, precipitately, under his arm and moved him towards the entrance steps. + 

вАЬLetвАЩs be quick then,вАЭ she said. вАЬLetвАЩs get him into your transport at once. Before he goes tomorrow. Then weвАЩll know heвАЩs safe.вАЭ + 

He was puzzled by her dress. It was very businesslike, dark blue and very short. A white blouse with a black silk, manвАЩs tie. A wideawake, with, on the front of the band, a cipher. + 

вАЬYouвАЩre in uniform yourself,вАЭ he said. вАЬDoes your conscience let you do war work?вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬNo. WeвАЩre hard up. IвАЩm taking the gym classes in a great big school to turn an honest penny.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Do be quick!вАЭ + 

Her pressure on his elbow flattered him. He resisted it a little, hanging back, to make her more insistent. He liked being pleaded with by a pretty woman: ChristopherвАЩs girl at that. + 

He said: + 

вАЬOh, itвАЩs not a matter of minutes. They keep вАЩem weeks at the base before they send вАЩem up.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ WeвАЩll fix him up all right, IвАЩve no doubt. WeвАЩll wait in the hall till he comes down.вАЭ + 

He told the benevolent commissionaire, one of two in a pulpit in the crowded grim hall, that he was going up to see General Hogarth in a minute or two. But not to send a bellboy. He might be some time yet. + 

He sat himself beside Miss Wannop, clumsily on a wooden bench, humanity surging over their toes as if they had been on a beach. She moved a little to make room for him and that, too, made him feel good. He said: + 

вАЬYou said just now: вАШweвАЩ are hard up. Does вАШweвАЩ mean you and Christopher?вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬI and Mr.¬†Tietjens. Oh, no! I and mother! The paper she used to write for stopped. When your father died, I believe. He found money for it, I think. And mother isnвАЩt suited to freelancing. SheвАЩs worked too hard in her life.вАЭ + 

He looked at her, his round eyes protruding. + 

вАЬI donвАЩt know what that is, freelancing,вАЭ he said. вАЬBut youвАЩve got to be comfortable. How much do you and your mother need to keep you comfortable? And put in a bit more so that Christopher could have a mutton-chop now and then!вАЭ + 

She hadnвАЩt really been listening. He said with some insistence: вАЬLook here! IвАЩm here on business. Not like an elderly admirer forcing himself on you. Though, by God, I do admire you too.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But my father wanted your mother to be comfortable.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Her face, turned to him, became rigid. + 

вАЬYou donвАЩt meanвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ she began. He said: + 

вАЬYou wonвАЩt get it any quicker by interrupting. I have to tell my stories in my own way. My father wanted your mother to be comfortable. He said so that she could write books, not papers. I donвАЩt know what the difference is: thatвАЩs what he said. He wants you to be comfortable too.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YouвАЩve not got any encumbrances? NotвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, say a business: a hat shop that doesnвАЩt pay? Some girls have.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said: вАЬNo. I just teachвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, do be quick.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

For the first time in his life he dislocated the course of his thoughts to satisfy a longing in someone else. + 

вАЬYou may take it to go on with,вАЭ he said, вАЬas if my father had left your mother a nice little plum.вАЭ He cast about to find his scattered thoughts. + 

вАЬHe has! He has! After all!вАЭ the girl said. вАЬOh, thank God!вАЭ + 

вАЬThereвАЩll be a bit for you, if you like,вАЭ Mark said, вАЬor perhaps Christopher wonвАЩt let you. HeвАЩs ratty with me. And something for your brother to buy a doctorвАЩs business with.вАЭ He asked: вАЬYou havenвАЩt fainted, have you?вАЭ She said: + 

вАЬNo. I donвАЩt faint. I cry.вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩll be all right,вАЭ he answered. He went on: вАЬThatвАЩs your side of it. Now for mine. I want Christopher to have a place where heвАЩll be sure of a mutton-chop and an armchair by the fire. And someone to be good for him. YouвАЩre good for him. I can see that. I know women!вАЭ + 

The girl was crying, softly and continuously. It was the first moment of the lifting of strain that she had known since the day before the Germans crossed the Belgian frontier, near a place called Gemmenich. + 

It had begun with the return of Mrs.¬†Duchemin from Scotland. She had sent at once for Miss Wannop to the rectory, late at night. By the light of candles in tall silver stocks, against oak panelling she had seemed like a mad block of marble, with staring, dark eyes and mad hair. She had exclaimed in a voice as hard as a machineвАЩs: + 

вАЬHow do you get rid of a baby? YouвАЩve been a servant. You ought to know!вАЭ + 

That had been the great shock, the turning-point, of Valentine WannopвАЩs life. Her last years before that had been a great tranquillity, tinged of course with melancholy because she loved Christopher Tietjens. But she had early learned to do without, and the world as she saw it was a place of renunciations, of high endeavour and sacrifice. Tietjens had to be a man who came to see her mother and talked wonderfully. She had been happy when he had been in the houseвБ†вАФshe in the housemaidвАЩs pantry, getting the tea-things. She had, besides, been very hard worked for her mother; the weather had been, on the whole, good, the corner of the country in which they lived had continued to seem fresh and agreeable. She had had excellent health, got an occasional ride on the qui-tamer with which Tietjens had replaced JoelвАЩs rig; and her brother had done admirably at Eton, taking such a number of exhibitions and things that, once at Magdalen, he had been nearly off his motherвАЩs hands. An admirable, gay boy, not unlikely to run for, as well as being a credit to, his university, if he didnвАЩt get sent down for his political extravagances. He was a Communist! + 

And at the rectory there had been the Duchemins, or rather Mrs.¬†Duchemin and, during most weekends, Macmaster somewhere about. + 

The passion of Macmaster for Edith Ethel and of Edith Ethel for Macmaster had seemed to her one of the beautiful things of life. They seemed to swim in a sea of renunciations, of beautiful quotations, and of steadfast waiting. Macmaster did not interest her personally much, but she took him on trust because of Edith EthelвАЩs romantic passion and because he was Christopher TietjensвАЩ friend. She had never heard him say anything original; when he used quotations they would be apt rather than striking. But she took it for granted that he was the right manвБ†вАФmuch as you take it for granted that the engine of an express train in which you are is reliable. The right people have chosen it for you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

With Mrs.¬†Duchemin, mad before her, she had the first intimation that her idolised friend, in whom she had believed as she had believed in the firmness of the great, sunny earth, had been the mistress of her loverвБ†вАФalmost since the first day she had seen him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And that Mrs.¬†Duchemin had, stored somewhere, a character of an extreme harshness and great vulgarity of language. She raged up and down in the candlelight, before the dark oak panelling, screaming coarse phrases of the deepest hatred for her lover. DidnвАЩt the oaf know his business better than toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАК? The dirty little Port of Leith fish-handler.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

What, then, were tall candles in silver sticks for? And polished panelling in galleries? + 

Valentine Wannop couldnвАЩt have been a little ashcat in worn cotton dresses, sleeping under the stairs, in an Ealing household with a drunken cook, an invalid mistress and three overfed men, without acquiring a considerable knowledge of the sexual necessities and excesses of humanity. But, as all the poorer helots of great cities hearten their lives by dreaming of material beauties, elegance, and suave wealth, she had always considered that, far from the world of Ealing and its county councillors who over-ate and neighed like stallions, there were bright colonies of beings, chaste, beautiful in thought, altruist and circumspect. + 

And, till that moment, she had imagined herself on the skirts of such a colony. She presupposed a society of beautiful intellects centring in London round her friends. Ealing she just put out of her mind. She considered: she had, indeed once heard Tietjens say that humanity was made up of exact and constructive intellects on the one hand and on the other of stuff to fill graveyards.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Now, what had become of the exact and constructive intellects? + 

Worst of all, what became of her beautiful inclination towards Tietjens, for she couldnвАЩt regard it as anything more? CouldnвАЩt her heart sing any more whilst she was in the housemaidвАЩs pantry and he in her motherвАЩs study? And what became, still more, of what she knew to be TietjensвАЩ beautiful inclination towards her? She asked herself the eternal questionвБ†вАФand she knew it to be the eternal questionвБ†вАФwhether no man and woman can ever leave it at the beautiful inclination. And, looking at Mrs.¬†Duchemin, rushing backwards and forwards in the light of candles, blue-white of face and her hair flying, Valentine Wannop said: вАЬNo! no! The tiger lying in the reeds will always raise its head!вАЭ But tigerвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ it was more like a peacock.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Tietjens, raising his head from the other side of the tea-table and looking at her with his long, meditative glance from beside her mother: ought he then, instead of blue and protruding, to have eyes divided longitudinally in the blacks of themвБ†вАФthat should divide, closing or dilating, on a yellow ground, with green glowings of furtive light? + 

She was aware that Edith Ethel had done her an irreparable wrong, for you cannot suffer a great sexual shock and ever be the same. Or not for years. Nevertheless she stayed with Mrs.¬†Duchemin until far into the small hours, when she fell, a mere parcel of bones in a peacock blue wrapper, into a deep chair and refused to move or speak; nor did she afterwards slacken in her faithful waiting on her friend.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

On the next day came the war. That was a nightmare of pure suffering, with never a letup, day or night. It began on the morning of the fourth with the arrival of her brother from some sort of Oxford Communist Summer School on the Broads. He was wearing a German corps studentвАЩs cap and was very drunk. He had been seeing German friends off from Harwich. It was the first time she had ever seen a drunken man, so that was a good present to her. + 

Next day, and sober, he was almost worse. A handsome, dark boy like his father, he had his motherвАЩs hooked nose and was always a little unbalanced: not mad, but always over-violent in any views he happened for the moment to hold. At the Summer School he had been under very vitriolic teachers of all sorts of notions. That hadnвАЩt hitherto mattered. Her mother had written for a Tory paper: her brother, when he had been at home, had edited some sort of Oxford organ of disruption. But her mother had only chuckled. + 

The war changed that. Both seemed to be filled with a desire for blood and to torture: neither paid the least attention to the other. It was as ifвБ†вАФso for the rest of those years the remembrance of that time lived with herвБ†вАФin one corner of the room her mother, ageing, and on her knees, from which she only with difficulty rose, shouted hoarse prayers to God, to let her, with her own hands, strangle, torture, and flay off all his skin, a being called the Kaiser, and as if, in the other corner of the room, her brother, erect, dark, scowling and vitriolic, one hand clenched above his head, called down the curse of heaven on the British soldier, so that in thousands, he might die in agony, the blood spouting from his scalded lungs. It appeared that the Communist leader whom Edward Wannop affected had had ill-success in his attempts to cause disaffection among some units or other of the British army, and had failed rather gallingly, being laughed at or ignored rather than being ducked in a horsepond, shot or otherwise martyrised. That made it obvious that the British man in the ranks was responsible for the war. If those ignoble hirelings had refused to fight all the other embattled and terrorised millions would have thrown down their arms! + 

Across that dreadful phantasmagoria went the figure of Tietjens. He was in doubt. She heard him several times voice his doubts to her mother, who grew every day more vacant. One day Mrs.¬†Wannop had said: + 

вАЬWhat does your wife think about it?вАЭ + 

Tietjens had answered: + 

вАЬOh, Mrs.¬†Tietjens is a pro-German.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Or no, that isnвАЩt exact. She has German prisoner-friends and looks after them. But she spends nearly all her time in retreat in a convent reading novels of before the war. She canвАЩt bear the thought of physical suffering. I canвАЩt blame her.вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Wannop was no longer listening: her daughter was. + 

For Valentine Wannop the war had turned Tietjens into far more of a man and far less of an inclinationвБ†вАФthe war and Mrs.¬†Duchemin between them. He had seemed to grow less infallible. A man with doubts is more of a man, with eyes, hands, the need for food and for buttons to be sewn on. She had actually tightened up a loose glove button for him. + 

One Friday afternoon at MacmasterвАЩs she had had a long talk with him: the first she had had since the drive and the accident. + 

Ever since Macmaster had instituted his Friday afternoonsвБ†вАФand that had been some time before the warвБ†вАФValentine Wannop had accompanied Mrs.¬†Duchemin to town by the morning train and back at night to the rectory. Valentine poured out the tea, Mrs.¬†Duchemin drifting about the large book-lined room amongst the geniuses and superior journalists. + 

On this occasionвБ†вАФa November day of very chilly, wetвБ†вАФthere had been next to nobody present, the preceding Friday having been unusually full. Macmaster and Mrs.¬†Duchemin had taken a Mr.¬†Spong, an architect, into the dining-room to inspect an unusually fine set of PiranesiвАЩs Views of Rome that Tietjens had picked up somewhere and had given to Macmaster. A Mr.¬†Jegg and a Mrs.¬†Haviland were sitting close together in the far window-seat. They were talking in low tones. From time to time Mr.¬†Jegg used the word вАЬinhibition.вАЭ Tietjens rose from the fire-seat on which he had been sitting and came to her. He ordered her to bring her cup of tea over by the fire and talk to him. She obeyed. They sat side by side on the leather fire-seat that stood on polished brass rails, the fire warming their backs. He said: + 

вАЬWell, Miss Wannop. What have you been doing?вАЭ and they drifted into talking of the war. You couldnвАЩt not. She was astonished not to find him so loathesome as she had expected, for, just at that time, with the facts that were always being driven into her mind by the pacifist friends of her brother and with continual brooding over the morals of Mrs.¬†Duchemin, she had an automatic feeling that all manly men were lust-filled devils, desiring nothing better than to stride over battlefields, stabbing the wounded with long daggers in frenzies of sadism. She knew that this view of Tietjens was wrong, but she cherished it. + 

She found himвБ†вАФas subconsciously she knew he wasвБ†вАФastonishingly mild. She had too often watched him whilst he listened to her motherвАЩs tirades against the Kaiser, not to know that. He did not raise his voice, he showed no emotion. He said at last: + 

вАЬYou and I are like two peopleвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He paused and began again more quickly: вАЬDo you know these soap advertisement signs that read differently from several angles? As you come up to them you read вАШMonkeyвАЩs SoapвАЩ; if you look back when youвАЩve passed itвАЩs вАШNeeds no Rinsing.вАЩвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You and I are standing at different angles and though we both look at the same thing we read different messages. Perhaps if we stood side by side we should see yet a third.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But I hope we respect each other. WeвАЩre both honest. I, at least, tremendously respect you and I hope you respect me.вАЭ + 

She kept silent. Behind their backs the fire rustled. Mr.¬†Jegg, across the room, said: вАЬThe failure to coordinateвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ and then dropped his voice. + 

Tietjens looked at her attentively. + 

вАЬYou donвАЩt respect me?вАЭ he asked. She kept obstinately silent. + 

вАЬIвАЩd have liked you to have said it,вАЭ he repeated. + 

вАЬOh,вАЭ she cried out, вАЬhow can I respect you when there is all this suffering? So much pain! Such tortureвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I canвАЩt sleepвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ NeverвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I havenвАЩt slept a whole night sinceвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Think of the immense spaces, stretching out under the nightвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I believe pain and fear must be worse at night.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She knew she was crying out like that because her dread had come true. When he had said: вАЬIвАЩd have liked you to have said it,вАЭ using the past, he had said his valedictory. Her man, too, was going. + 

And she knew too: she had always known under her mind and now she confessed it: her agony had been, half of it, because one day he would say farewell to her: like that, with the inflection of a verb. As, just occasionally, using the word вАЬweвАЭвБ†вАФand perhaps without intentionвБ†вАФhe had let her know that he loved her. + 

Mr.¬†Jegg drifted across from the window: Mrs.¬†Haviland was already at the door. + 

вАЬWeвАЩll leave you to have your war talk out,вАЭ Mr.¬†Jegg said. He added: вАЬFor myself, I believe itвАЩs oneвАЩs sole duty to preserve the beauty of things thatвАЩs preservable. I canвАЩt help saying that.вАЭ + 

She was alone with Tietjens and the quiet day. She said to herself: + 

вАЬNow he must take me in his arms. He must. He must!вАЭ The deepest of her instincts came to the surface, from beneath layers of thought hardly known to her. She could feel his arms around her: she had in her nostrils the peculiar scent of his hairвБ†вАФlike the scent of the skin of an apple, but very faint. вАЬYou must! You must!вАЭ she said to herself. There came back to her overpoweringly the memory of their drive together and the moment, the overwhelming moment, when, climbing out of the white fog into the blinding air, she had felt the impulse of his whole body towards her and the impulse of her whole body towards him. A sudden lapse: like the momentary dream when you fall.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She saw the white disk of the sun over the silver mist and behind them was the long, warm night.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Tietjens sat, huddled rather together, dejectedly, the firelight playing on the silver places of his hair. It had grown nearly dark outside: they had a sense of the large room that, almost week by week, had grown, for its gleams of gilding and hand-polished dark woods, more like the great dining-room at the Duchemins. He got down from the fire-seat with a weary movement, as if the fire-seat had been very high. He said, with a little bitterness, but as if with more fatigue: + 

вАЬWell, IвАЩve got the business of telling Macmaster that IвАЩm leaving the office. That, too, wonвАЩt be an agreeable affair! Not that what poor Vinnie thinks matters.вАЭ He added: вАЬItвАЩs queer, dearвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ In the tumult of her emotions she was almost certain that he had said вАЬdear.вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬNot three hours ago my wife used to me almost the exact words you have just used. Almost the exact words. She talked of her inability to sleep at night for thinking of immense spaces full of pain that was worse at night.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And she, too, said that she could not respect me.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She sprang up. + 

вАЬOh,вАЭ she said, вАЬshe didnвАЩt mean it. I didnвАЩt mean it. Almost every man who is a man must do as you are doing. But donвАЩt you see itвАЩs a desperate attempt to get you to stay: an attempt on moral lines? How can we leave any stone unturned that could keep us from losing our men?вАЭ She added, and it was another stone that she didnвАЩt leave unturned: вАЬBesides, how can you reconcile it with your sense of duty, even from your point of view? YouвАЩre more usefulвБ†вАФyou know youвАЩre more useful to your country here thanвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He stood over her, stooping a little, somehow suggesting great gentleness and concern. + 

вАЬI canвАЩt reconcile it with my conscience,вАЭ he said. вАЬIn this affair there is nothing that any man can reconcile with his conscience. I donвАЩt mean that we oughtnвАЩt to be in this affair and on the side weвАЩre on. We ought. But IвАЩll put to you things I have put to no other soul.вАЭ + 

The simplicity of his revelation seemed to her to put to shame any of the glibnesses she had heard. It appeared to her as if a child were speaking. He described the disillusionment it had cost him personally as soon as this country had come into the war. He even described the sunlit heather landscape of the north, where naively he had made his tranquil resolution to join the French Foreign Legion as a common soldier and his conviction that that would give him, as he called it, clean bones again. + 

That, he said, had been straightforward. Now there was nothing straightforward: for him or for any man. One could have fought with a clean heart for a civilisation: if you like for the eighteenth century against the twentieth, since that was what fighting for France against the enemy countries meant. But our coming in had changed the aspect at once. It was one part of the twentieth century using the eighteenth as a catspaw to bash the other half of the twentieth. It was true there was nothing else for it. And as long as we did it in a decent spirit it was just bearable. One could keep at oneвАЩs jobвБ†вАФwhich was faking statistics against the other fellowвБ†вАФuntil you were sick and tired of faking and your brain reeled. And then some! + 

It was probably impolitic to fakeвБ†вАФto overstate!вБ†вАФa case against enemy nations. The chickens would come home to roost in one way or another, probably. Perhaps they wouldnвАЩt. That was a matter for oneвАЩs superiors. Obviously! And the first gang had been simple, honest fellows. Stupid, but relatively disinterested. But now!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What was one to do?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He went on, almost mumbling.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

She had suddenly a clear view of him as a man extraordinarily clear-sighted in the affairs of others, in great affairs, but in his own so simple as to be almost a baby. And gentle! And extraordinarily unselfish. He didnвАЩt betray one thought of self-interestвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ not one! + 

He was saying: + 

вАЬBut now!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ with this crowd of boodlers!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Supposing oneвАЩs asked to manipulate the figures of millions of pairs of boots in order to force someone else to send some miserable general and his troops to, say, SalonikaвБ†вАФwhen they and you and common sense and everyone and everything else, know itвАЩs disastrous?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And from that to monkeying with our own forces.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Starving particular units for politicalвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He was talking to himself, not to her. And indeed he said: + 

вАЬI canвАЩt, you see, talk really before you. For all I know your sympathies, perhaps your activities, are with the enemy nations.вАЭ + 

She said passionately: + 

вАЬTheyвАЩre not! TheyвАЩre not! How dare you say such a thing?вАЭ + 

He answered: + 

вАЬIt doesnвАЩt matterвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No! IвАЩm sure youвАЩre notвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But, anyhow, these things are official. One canвАЩt, if oneвАЩs scrupulous, even talk about themвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And thenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You see it means such infinite deaths of men, such an infinite prolongationвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ all this interference for side-ends!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I seem to see these fellows with clouds of blood over their heads.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And thenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩm to carry out their orders because theyвАЩre my superiors.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But helping them means unnumbered deaths.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He looked at her with a faint, almost humorous smile: + 

вАЬYou see!вАЭ he said, вАЬweвАЩre perhaps not so very far apart! You mustnвАЩt think youвАЩre the only one that sees all the deaths and all the sufferings. All, you see: I, too, am a conscientious objector. My conscience wonвАЩt let me continue any longer with these fellows.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬBut isnвАЩt there any otherвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He interrupted: + 

вАЬNo! ThereвАЩs no other course. One is either a body or a brain in these affairs. I suppose IвАЩm more brain than body. I suppose so. Perhaps IвАЩm not. But my conscience wonвАЩt let me use my brain in this service. So IвАЩve a great, hulking body! IвАЩll admit IвАЩm probably not much good. But IвАЩve nothing to live for: what I stand for isnвАЩt any more in this world. What I want, as you know, I canвАЩt have. SoвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She exclaimed bitterly: + 

вАЬOh, say it! Say it! Say that your large hulking body will stop two bullets in front of two small an√¶mic fellows.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And how can you say youвАЩll have nothing to live for? YouвАЩll come back. YouвАЩll do your good work again. You know you did good workвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬYes! I believe I did. I used to despise it, but IвАЩve come to believe I did.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But no! TheyвАЩll never let me back. TheyвАЩve got me out, with all sorts of bad marks against me. TheyвАЩll pursue me, systematically.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You see in such a world as this, an idealistвБ†вАФor perhaps itвАЩs only a sentimentalistвБ†вАФmust be stoned to death. He makes the others so uncomfortable. He haunts them at their golf.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No; theyвАЩll get me, one way or the other. And some fellowвБ†вАФMacmaster hereвБ†вАФwill do my jobs. He wonвАЩt do them so well, but heвАЩll do them more dishonestly. Or no. I oughtnвАЩt to say dishonestly. HeвАЩll do them with enthusiasm and righteousness. HeвАЩll fulfil the order of his superiors with an immense docility and unction. HeвАЩll fake figures against our allies with the black enthusiasm of a Calvin and, when that war comes, heвАЩll do the requisite faking with the righteous wrath of Jehovah smiting the priests of Baal. And heвАЩll be right. ItвАЩs all weвАЩre fitted for. We ought never to have come into this war. We ought to have snaffled other peoplesвАЩ colonies as the price of neutrality.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬOh!вАЭ Valentine Wannop said, вАЬhow can you so hate your country?вАЭ + 

He said with great earnestness: + 

вАЬDonвАЩt say it! DonвАЩt believe it! DonвАЩt even for a moment think it! I love every inch of its fields and every plant in the hedgerows: comfrey, mullein, paigles, long red purples, that liberal shepherds give a grosser nameвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and all the rest of the rubbishвБ†вАФyou remember the field between the Duchemins and your motherвАЩsвБ†вАФand we have always been boodlers and robbers and reivers and pirates and cattle thieves, and so weвАЩve built up the great tradition that we love.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But, for the moment, itвАЩs painful. Our present crowd is not more corrupt than WalpoleвАЩs. But oneвАЩs too near them. One sees of Walpole that he consolidated the nation by building up the National Debt: one doesnвАЩt see his methods.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ My son, or his son, will only see the glory of the boodle we make out of this show. Or rather out of the next. He wonвАЩt know about the methods. TheyвАЩll teach him at school that across the counties went the sound of bugles that his father knew.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Though that was another discreditable affair.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬBut you!вАЭ Valentine Wannop exclaimed. вАЬYou! what will you do! After the war!вАЭ + 

вАЬI!вАЭ he said rather bewilderedly. вАЬI!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Oh, I shall go into the old furniture business. IвАЩve been offered a job.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She didnвАЩt believe he was serious. He hadnвАЩt, she knew, ever thought about his future. But suddenly she had a vision of his white head and pale face in the back glooms of a shop full of dusty things. He would come out, get heavily on to a dusty bicycle and ride off to a cottage sale. She cried out: + 

вАЬWhy donвАЩt you do it at once? Why donвАЩt you take the job at once?вАЭ For in the back of the dark shop he would at least be safe. + 

He said: + 

вАЬOh, no! Not at this time! Besides the old furniture tradeвАЩs probably not itself for the minute.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He was obviously thinking of something else. + 

вАЬIвАЩve probably been a low cad,вАЭ he said, вАЬwringing your heart with my doubts. But I wanted to see where our similarities come in. WeвАЩve always beenвБ†вАФor weвАЩve seemed always to meвБ†вАФso alike in our thoughts. I daresay I wanted you to respect me.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, I respect you! I respect you!вАЭ she said. вАЬYouвАЩre as innocent as a child.вАЭ + 

He went on: + 

вАЬAnd I wanted to get some thinking done. It hasnвАЩt been often of late that one has had a quiet room and a fire andвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you! To think in front of. You do make one collect oneвАЩs thoughts. IвАЩve been very muddled till todayвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ till five minutes ago! Do you remember our drive? You analyzed my character. IвАЩd never have let another soulвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But you seeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ DonвАЩt you see?вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬNo! What am I to see? I rememberвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬThat IвАЩm certainly not an English country gentleman now; picking up the gossip of the horse markets and saying: let the country go to hell, for me!вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬDid I say that?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Yes, I said that!вАЭ + 

The deep waves of emotion came over her: she trembled. She stretched out her arms.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She thought she stretched out her arms. He was hardly visible in the firelight. But she could see nothing: she was blind for tears. She could hardly be stretching out her arms, for she had both hands to her handkerchief on her eyes. He said something: it was no word of love or she would have held it; it began with: вАЬWell, I must beвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He was silent for a long time: she imagined herself to feel great waves coming from him to her. But he wasnвАЩt in the room.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

The rest, till that moment at the War Office, had been pure agony, and unrelenting. Her motherвАЩs paper cut down her money; no orders for serials came in: her mother, obviously, was failing. The eternal diatribes of her brother were like lashes upon her skin. He seemed to be praying Tietjens to death. Of Tietjens she saw and heard nothing. At the Macmasters she heard, once, that he had just gone out. It added to her desire to scream when she saw a newspaper. Poverty invaded them. The police raided the house in search of her brother and his friends. Then her brother went to prison: somewhere in the Midlands. The friendliness of their former neighbours turned to surly suspicion. They could get no milk. Food became almost unprocurable without going to long distances. For three days Mrs.¬†Wannop was clean out of her mind. Then she grew better and began to write a new book. It promised to be rather good. But there was no publisher. Edward came out of prison, full of good-humour and boisterousness. They seemed to have had a great deal to drink in prison. But, hearing that his mother had gone mad over that disgrace, after a terrible scene with Valentine, in which he accused her of being the mistress of Tietjens and therefore militarist, he consented to let his mother use her influenceвБ†вАФof which she had still someвБ†вАФto get him appointed as an A.B. on a minesweeper. Great winds became an agony to Valentine Wannop in addition to the unbearable sounds of firing that came continuously over the sea. Her mother grew much better: she took pride in having a son in a service. She was then the more able to appreciate the fact that her paper stopped payment altogether. A small mob on the fifth of November burned Mrs.¬†Wannop in effigy in front of their cottage and broke their lower windows. Mrs.¬†Wannop ran out and in the illumination of the fire knocked down two farm labourer hobbledehoys. It was terrible to see Mrs.¬†WannopвАЩs grey hair in the firelight. After that the butcher refused them meat altogether, ration card or no ration card. It was imperative that they should move to London. + 

The marsh horizon became obscured with giant stilts: the air above it filled with aeroplanes: the roads covered with military cars. There was then no getting away from the sounds of the war. + 

Just as they had decided to move Tietjens came back. It was for a moment heaven to have him in this country. But when, a month later, Valentine Wannop saw him for a minute, he seemed very heavy, aged and dull. It was then almost as bad as before, for it seemed to Valentine as if he hardly had his reason. + 

On hearing that Tietjens was to be quarteredвБ†вАФor, at any rate, occupiedвБ†вАФin the neighbourhood of Ealing, Mrs.¬†Wannop at once took a small house in Bedford Park, whilst, to make ends meetвБ†вАФfor her mother made terribly littleвБ†вАФValentine Wannop took a post as athletic mistress in a great school in a not very near suburb. Thus, though Tietjens came in for a cup of tea almost every afternoon with Mrs.¬†Wannop in the dilapidated little suburban house, Valentine Wannop hardly ever saw him. The only free afternoon she had was the Friday, and on that day she still regularly chaperoned Mrs.¬†Duchemin: meeting her at Charing Cross towards noon and taking her back to the same station in time to catch the last train to Rye. On Saturdays and Sundays she was occupied all day in typing her motherвАЩs manuscript. + 

Of Tietjens, then, she saw almost nothing. She knew that his poor mind was empty of facts and of names; but her mother said he was a great help to her. Once provided with facts his mind worked out sound Tory conclusionsвБ†вАФor quite startling and attractive theoriesвБ†вАФwith extreme rapidity. This Mrs.¬†Wannop found of the greatest use to her wheneverвБ†вАФthough it wasnвАЩt now very oftenвБ†вАФshe had an article to write for an excitable newspaper. She still, however, contributed to her failing organ of opinion, though it paid her nothing.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin, then, Valentine Wannop still chaperoned, though there was no bond any more between them. Valentine knew, for instance, perfectly well that Mrs.¬†Duchemin, after she had been seen off by train from Charing Cross, got out at Clapham Junction, took a taxicab back to GrayвАЩs Inn after dark and spent the night with Macmaster, and Mrs.¬†Duchemin knew quite well that Valentine knew. It was a sort of parade of circumspection and rightness, and they kept it up even after, at a sinister registry office, the wedding had taken place, Valentine being the one witness and an obscure-looking substitute for the usual pew opener another. There seemed to be, by then, no very obvious reason why Valentine should support Mrs.¬†Macmaster any more on these rather dreary occasions, but Mrs.¬†Macmaster said she might just as well, until they saw fit to make the marriage public. There were, Mrs.¬†Macmaster said, censorious tongues, and even if these were confuted afterwards it is difficult, if not impossible, to outrun scandal. Besides, Mrs.¬†Macmaster was of opinion that the Macmaster afternoons with these geniuses must be a liberal education for Valentine. But, as Valentine sat most of the time at the tea-table near the door, it was the backs and side faces of the distinguished rather than their intellects with which she was most acquainted. Occasionally, however, Mrs.¬†Duchemin would show Valentine, as an enormous privilege, one of the letters to herself from men of genius: usually North British, written, as a rule, from the Continent or more distant and peaceful climates, for most of them believed it their duty in these hideous times to keep alive in the world the only glimmering spark of beauty. Couched in terms so eulogistic as to resemble those used in passionate love-letters by men more profane, these epistles recounted, or consulted Mrs.¬†Duchemin as to, their love affairs with foreign princesses, the progress of their ailments or the progresses of their souls towards those higher regions of morality in which floated their so beautiful-souled correspondent. + 

The letters entertained Valentine and, indeed, she was entertained by that whole mirage. It was only the MacmastersвАЩ treatment of her mother that finally decided Valentine that this friendship had died; for the friendships of women are very tenacious things, surviving astonishing disillusionments, and Valentine Wannop was a woman of more than usual loyalty. Indeed, if she couldnвАЩt respect Mrs.¬†Duchemin on the old grounds, she could very really respect her for her tenacity of purpose, her determination to advance Macmaster and for the sort of ruthlessness that she put into these pursuits. + 

ValentineвАЩs affection had, indeed, survived even Edith EthelвАЩs continued denigrations of TietjensвБ†вАФfor Edith Ethel regarded Tietjens as a clog round her husbandвАЩs neck, if only because he was a very unpopular man, grown personally rather unpresentable and always extremely rude to the geniuses on Fridays. Edith Ethel, however, never made these complaints that grew more and more frequent as more and more the distinguished flocked to the Fridays, before Macmaster. And they ceased very suddenly and in a way that struck Valentine as odd. + 

Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs grievance against Tietjens was that, Macmaster being a weak man, Tietjens had acted as his banker until, what with interest and the rest of it, Macmaster owed Tietjens a great sum: several thousand pounds. And there had been no real reason: Macmaster had spent most of the money either on costly furnishings for his rooms or on his costly journeys to Rye. On the one hand Mrs.¬†Duchemin could have found Macmaster all the bric-a-brac he could possibly have wanted from amongst the things at the rectory, where no one would have missed them and, on the other, she, Mrs.¬†Duchemin, would have paid all MacmasterвАЩs travelling expenses. She had had unlimited money from her husband, who never asked for accounts. But, whilst Tietjens still had influence with Macmaster, he had used it uncompromisingly against this course, giving him the delusionвБ†вАФit enraged Mrs.¬†Duchemin to think!вБ†вАФthat it would have been dishonourable. So that Macmaster had continued to draw upon him. + 

And, most enraging of all, at a period when she had had a power of attorney over all Mr.¬†DucheminвАЩs fortune and could, perfectly easily, have sold out something that no one would have missed for the couple of thousand or so that Macmaster owed, Tietjens had very forcibly refused to allow Macmaster to agree to anything of the sort. He had again put into MacmasterвАЩs weak head that it would be dishonourable. But Mrs.¬†DucheminвБ†вАФand she closed her lips determinedly after she had said itвБ†вАФknew perfectly well TietjensвАЩ motive. So long as Macmaster owed him money he imagined that they couldnвАЩt close their doors upon him. And their establishment was beginning to be a place where you meet people of great influence who might well get for a person as lazy as Tietjens a sinecure that would suit him. Tietjens, in fact, knew which side his bread was buttered. + 

For what, Mrs.¬†Duchemin asked, could there have been dishonourable about the arrangement she had proposed? Practically the whole of Mr.¬†DucheminвАЩs money was to come to her: he was by then insane; it was therefore, morally, her own. But immediately after that, Mr.¬†Duchemin having been certified, the estate had fallen into the hands of the Lunacy Commissioners and there had been no further hope of taking the capital. Now, her husband being dead, it was in the hands of trustees, Mr.¬†Duchemin having left the whole of his property to Magdalen College and merely the income to his widow. The income was very large; but where, with their expenses, with the death duties and taxation, which were by then merciless, was Mrs.¬†Duchemin to find the money? She was to be allowed, under her husbandвАЩs will, enough capital to buy a pleasant little place in Surrey, with rather a nice lot of landвБ†вАФenough to let Macmaster know some of the leisures of a country gentlemanвАЩs lot. They were going in for shorthorns, and there was enough land to give them a small golf-course and, in the autumn, a littleвБ†вАФoh, mostly rough!вБ†вАФshooting for Macmaster to bring his friends down to. It would just run to that. Oh, no ostentation. Merely a nice little place. As an amusing detail the villagers there already called Macmaster вАЬsquireвАЭ and the women curtsied to him. But Valentine Wannop would understand that, with all these expenses, they couldnвАЩt find the money to pay off Tietjens. Besides, Mrs.¬†Macmaster said she wasnвАЩt going to pay off Tietjens. He had had his chance once: now he could go without, for her. Macmaster would have to pay it himself and he would never be able to, his contribution to their housekeeping being what it was. And there were going to be complications. Macmaster wondered about their little place in Surrey, saying that he would consult Tietjens about this and that alteration. But over the doorsill of that place the foot of Tietjens was never going to go! Never! It would mean a good deal of unpleasantness; or rather it would mean one sharp: CвАСrвАСrвАСunch! And then: Napoo finny! Mrs.¬†Duchemin sometimes, and with great effect, condescended to use one of the more picturesque phrases of the day. + 

To all these diatribes Valentine Wannop answered hardly anything. It was no particular concern of hers; even if, for a moment, she felt proprietarily towards Christopher as she did now and then, she felt no particular desire that his intimacy with the Macmasters should be prolonged, because she knew he could have no particular desire for its prolongation. She imagined him turning them down with an unspoken and good-humoured gibe. And, indeed, she agreed on the whole with Edith Ethel. It was demoralizing for a weak little man like Vincent to have a friend with an ever-open purse beside him. Tietjens ought not to have been princely: it was a defect, a quality that she did not personally admire in him. As to whether it would or wouldnвАЩt have been dishonourable for Mrs.¬†Duchemin to take her husbandвАЩs money and give it to Macmaster, she kept an open mind. To all intents and purposes the money was Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs, and if Mrs.¬†Duchemin had then paid Christopher off it would have been sensible. She could see that later it had become very inconvenient. There were, however, male standards to be considered, and Macmaster, at least, passed for a man. Tietjens, who was wise enough in the affairs of others, had, in that, probably been wise; for there might have been great disagreeablenesses with trustees and heirs-at-law had Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs subtraction of a couple of thousand pounds from the Duchemin estate afterwards come to light. The Wannops had never been large property owners as a family, but Valentine had heard enough of collateral wranglings over small family dishonesties to know how very disagreeable these could be. + 

So she had made little or no comment; sometimes she had even faintly agreed as to the demoralisation of Macmaster and that had sufficed. For Mrs.¬†Duchemin had been certain of her rightness and cared nothing at all for the opinion of Valentine Wannop, or else took it for granted. + 

And when Tietjens had been gone to France for a little time Mrs.¬†Duchemin seemed to forget the matter, contenting herself with saying that he might very likely not come back. He was the sort of clumsy man who generally got killed. In that case, since no I.O.U.s or paper had passed, Mrs.¬†Tietjens would have no claim. So that would be all right. + 

But two days after the return of ChristopherвБ†вАФand that was how Valentine knew he had come back!вБ†вАФMrs.¬†Duchemin with a lowering brow exclaimed: + 

вАЬThat oaf, Tietjens, is in England, perfectly safe and sound. And now the whole miserable business of VincentвАЩs indebtedness.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Oh!вАЭ + 

She had stopped so suddenly and so markedly that even the stoppage of ValentineвАЩs own heart couldnвАЩt conceal the oddness from her. Indeed it was as if there were an interval before she completely realised what the news was and as if, during that interval, she said to herself: + 

вАЬItвАЩs very queer. ItвАЩs exactly as if Edith Ethel has stopped abusing him on my account.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ As if she knew!вАЭ But how could Edith Ethel know that she loved the man who had returned? It was impossible! She hardly knew herself. Then the great wave of relief rolled over her: he was in England. One day she would see him, there: in the great room. For these colloquies with Edith Ethel always took place in the great room where she had last seen Tietjens. It looked suddenly beautiful and she was resigned to sitting there, waiting for the distinguished. + 

It was indeed a beautiful room: it had become so during the years. It was long and highвБ†вАФmatching the TietjensвАЩ. A great cut-glass chandelier from the rectory hung dimly coruscating in the centre, reflected and re-reflected in convex gilt mirrors, topped by eagles. A great number of books had gone to make place on the white panelled walls for the mirrors, and for the fair orange and brown pictures by Turner, also from the rectory. From the rectory had come the immense scarlet and lapis lazuli carpet, the great brass fire-basket and appendages, the great curtains that, in the three long windows, on their peacock blue Chinese silk showed parti-coloured cranes ascending in long flightsвБ†вАФand all the polished Chippendale armchairs. Amongst all these, gracious, trailing, stopping with a tender gesture to rearrange very slightly the crimson roses in the famous silver bowls, still in dark blue silks, with an amber necklace and her elaborate black hair, waved exactly like that of Julia Domma of the Mus√©e Lapidaire at Arles, moved Mrs.¬†MacmasterвБ†вАФalso from the rectory. Macmaster had achieved his desire: even to the shortbread cakes and the peculiarly scented tea that came every Friday morning from Princes Street. And, if Mrs.¬†Macmaster hadnвАЩt the pawky, relishing humour of the great Scots ladies of past days, she had in exchange her deep aspect of comprehension and tenderness. An astonishingly beautiful and impressive woman: dark hair; dark, straight eyebrows; a straight nose; dark blue eyes in the shadows of her hair and bowed, pomegranate lips in a chin curved like the bow of a Greek boat.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

The etiquette of the place on Fridays was regulated as if by a royal protocol. The most distinguished and, if possible, titled person was led to a great walnut wood fluted chair that stood askew by the fireplace, its back and seat of blue velvet, heaven knows how old. Over him would hover Mrs.¬†Duchemin: or, if he were very distinguished, both Mr.¬†and Mrs.¬†Macmaster. The not so distinguished were led up by turns to be presented to the celebrity and would then arrange themselves in a half-circle in the beautiful armchairs; the less distinguished still, in outer groups in chairs that had no arms: the almost undistinguished stood, also in groups or languished, awestruck on the scarlet leather window seats. When all were there Macmaster would establish himself on the incredibly unique hearthrug and would address wise sayings to the celebrity; occasionally, however, saying a kind thing to the youngest man presentвБ†вАФto give him a chance of distinguishing himself. MacmasterвАЩs hair, at that date, was still black, but not quite so stiff or so well brushed; his beard had in it greyish streaks and his teeth, not being quite so white, looked less strong. He wore also a single eyeglass, the retaining of which in his right eye gave him a slightly agonised expression. It gave him, however, the privilege of putting his face very close to the face of anyone upon whom he wished to make a deep impression. He had lately become much interested in the drama, so that there were usually several largeвБ†вАФand, of course, very reputable and serious actresses in the room. On rare occasions Mrs.¬†Duchemin would say across the room in her deep voice: + 

вАЬValentine, a cup of tea for his highness,вАЭ or вАЬSir Thomas,вАЭ as the case might be, and when Valentine had threaded her way through the chairs with a cup of tea Mrs.¬†Duchemin, with a kind, aloof smile, would say: вАЬYour highness, this is my little brown bird.вАЭ But as a rule Valentine sat alone at the tea-table, the guests fetching from her what they wanted. + 

Tietjens came to the Fridays twice during the five months of his stay at Ealing. On each occasion he accompanied Mrs.¬†Wannop. + 

In earlier daysвБ†вАФduring the earliest FridaysвБ†вАФMrs.¬†Wannop, if she ever came, had always been installed, with her flowing black, in the throne and, like an enlarged Queen Victoria, had sat there whilst suppliants were led up to this great writer. But now: on the first occasion Mrs.¬†Wannop got a chair without arms in the outer ring, whilst a general officer commanding lately in chief somewhere in the East, whose military success had not been considerable, but whose despatches were considered very literary, occupied, rather blazingly, the throne. But Mrs.¬†Wannop had chatted very contentedly all the afternoon with Tietjens, and it had been comforting to Valentine to see TietjensвАЩ large, uncouth, but quite collected figure, and to observe the affection that these two had for each other. + 

But, on the second occasion, the throne was occupied by a very young woman who talked a great deal and with great assurance. Valentine didnвАЩt know who she was. Mrs.¬†Wannop, very gay and distracted, stood nearly the whole afternoon by a window. And even at that, Valentine was contented, quite a number of young men crowding round the old lady and leaving the younger oneвАЩs circle rather bare. + 

There came in a very tall, clean run and beautiful, fair woman, dressed in nothing particular. She stood with extremeвБ†вАФwith noticeableвБ†вАФunconcern near the doorway. She let her eyes rest on Valentine, but looked away before Valentine could speak. She must have had an enormous quantity of fair tawny hair, for it was coiled in a great surface over her ears. She had in her hand several visiting cards which she looked at with a puzzled expression and then laid on a card table. She was no one who had ever been there before. + 

Edith EthelвБ†вАФit was for the second time!вБ†вАФhad just broken up the ring that surrounded Mrs.¬†Wannop, bearing the young men tributary to the young women in the walnut chair and leaving Tietjens and the older woman high and dry in a window: thus Tietjens saw the stranger, and there was no doubt left in ValentineвАЩs mind. He came, diagonally, right down the room to his wife and marched her straight up to Edith Ethel. His face was perfectly without expression. + 

Macmaster, perched on the centre of the hearthrug, had an emotion that was extraordinarily comic to witness, but that Valentine was quite unable to analyse. He jumped two paces forward to meet Mrs.¬†Tietjens, held out a little hand, half withdrew it, retreated half a step. The eyeglass fell from his perturbed eye: this gave him actually an expression less perturbed, but, in revenge, the hairs on the back of his scalp grew suddenly untidy. Sylvia, wavering along beside her husband, held out her long arm and careless hand. Macmaster winced almost at the contact, as if his fingers had been pinched in a vise. Sylvia wavered desultorily towards Edith Ethel, who was suddenly small, insignificant and relatively coarse. As for the young woman celebrity in the armchair, she appeared to be about the size of a white rabbit. + 

A complete silence had fallen on the room. Every woman in it was counting the pleats of SylviaвАЩs skirt and the amount of material in it. Valentine Wannop knew that because she was doing it herself. If one had that amount of material and that number of pleats oneвАЩs skirt might hang like that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ For it was extraordinary: it fitted close round the hips, and gave an effect of length and swingвБ†вАФyet it did not descend as low as the ankles. It was, no doubt, the amount of material that did that, like the HighlanderвАЩs kilt that takes twelve yards to make. And from the silence Valentine could tell that every woman and most of the menвБ†вАФif they didnвАЩt know that this was Mrs.¬†Christopher TietjensвБ†вАФknew that this was a personage of Illustrated Weekly, as who should say of county family, rank. Little Mrs.¬†Swan, lately married, actually got up, crossed the room and sat down beside her bridegroom. It was a movement with which Valentine could sympathise. + 

And Sylvia, having just faintly greeted Mrs.¬†Duchemin, and completely ignored the celebrity in the armchairвБ†вАФin spite of the fact that Mrs.¬†Duchemin had tried half-heartedly to effect an introductionвБ†вАФstood still, looking round her. She gave the effect of a lady in a nurserymanвАЩs hothouse considering what flower should interest her, collectedly ignoring the nurserymen who bowed round her. She had just dropped her eyelashes, twice, in recognition of two staff officers with a good deal of scarlet streak about them who were tentatively rising from their chairs. The staff officers who came to the Tietjens were not of the first vintages; still they had the labels and passed as such. + 

Valentine was by that time beside her mother, who had been standing all alone between two windows. She had dispossessed, in hot indignation, a stout musical critic of his chair and had sat her mother in it. And, just as Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs deep voice sounded, yet a little waveringly: + 

вАЬValentineвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a cup of tea forвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Valentine was carrying a cup of tea to her mother. + 

Her indignation had conquered her despairing jealousy, if you could call it jealousy. For what was the good of living or loving when Tietjens had beside him, forever, the radiant, kind and gracious perfection. On the other hand, of her two deep passions, the second was for her mother. + 

Rightly or wrongly, Valentine regarded Mrs.¬†Wannop as a great, an august figure: a great brain, a high and generous intelligence. She had written, at least, one great book, and if the rest of her time had been frittered away in the desperate struggle to live that had taken both their lives, that could not detract from that one achievement that should last and forever take her motherвАЩs name down time. That this greatness should not weigh with the Macmasters had hitherto neither astonished nor irritated Valentine. The Macmasters had their game to play and, for the matter of that, they had their predilections. Their game kept them amongst the officially influential, the semiofficial and the officially accredited. They moved with such C.B.s, knights, presidents, and the rest as dabbled in writing or the arts: they went upwards with such reviewers, art critics, musical writers and arch√¶ologists as had posts in, if possible, first-class public offices or permanent positions on the more august periodicals. If an imaginative author seemed assured of position and lasting popularity Macmaster would send out feelers towards him, would make himself humbly useful, and sooner or later either Mrs.¬†Duchemin would be carrying on with him one of her high-souled correspondencesвБ†вАФor she wouldnвАЩt. + 

Mrs.¬†Wannop they had formerly accepted as permanent leader writer and chief critic of a great organ, but the great organ having dwindled and now disappeared the Macmasters no longer wanted her at their parties. That was the gameвБ†вАФand Valentine accepted it. But that it should have been done with such insolence, so obviously meant to be notedвБ†вАФfor in twice breaking up Mrs.¬†WannopвАЩs little circle Mrs.¬†Duchemin had not even once so much as said: вАЬHow dвАЩye do?вАЭ to the elder lady!вБ†вАФthat was almost more than Valentine could, for the moment, bear, and she would have taken her mother away at once and would never have reentered the house, but for the compensations. + 

Her mother had lately written and even found a publisher for a bookвБ†вАФand the book had showed no signs of failing powers. On the contrary, having been perforce stopped off the perpetual journalism that had dissipated her energies, Mrs.¬†Wannop had turned out something that Valentine knew was sound, sane and well done. Abstractions of failing attention to the outside world are not necessarily in a writer signs of failing, as a writer. It may mean merely that she is giving so much thought to her work that her outside contacts suffer. If that is the case her work will gain. That this might be the case with her mother was ValentineвАЩs great and secret hope. Her mother was barely sixty: many great works have been written by writers aged between sixty and seventy.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

And the crowding of youngish men round the old lady had given Valentine a little confirmation of that hope. The book naturally, in the maelstrom flux and reflux of the time, had attracted no attention, and poor Mrs.¬†Wannop had not succeeded in extracting a penny for it from her adamantine publisher: she hadnвАЩt, indeed, made a penny for several months, and they existed almost at starvation point in their little den of a villaвБ†вАФon ValentineвАЩs earnings as athletic teacher.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But that little bit of attention in that semipublic place had seemed, at least, as a confirmation to Valentine: there probably was something sound, sane and well done in her motherвАЩs work. That was almost all she asked of life. + 

And, indeed, whilst she stood by her motherвАЩs chair, thinking with a little bitter pathos that if Edith Ethel had left the three or four young men to her mother the three or four might have done her poor mother a little good, with innocent puffs and the likeвБ†вАФand heaven knew they needed that little good badly enough!вБ†вАФa very thin and untidy young man did drift back to Mrs.¬†Wannop and asked, precisely, if he might make a note or two for publication as to what Mrs.¬†Wannop was doing. вАЬHer book,вАЭ he said, вАЬhad attracted so much attention. They hadnвАЩt known that they had still writers among themвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

A singular, triangular drive had begun through the chairs from the fireplace. That was how it had seemed to Valentine! Mrs.¬†Tietjens had looked at them, had asked Christopher a question and, immediately, as if she were coming through waist-high surf, had borne down Macmaster and Mrs.¬†Duchemin, flanking her obsequiously, setting aside chairs and their occupants, Tietjens and the two, rather bashfully following staff officers, broadening out the wedge. + 

Sylvia, her long arm held out from a yard or so away, was stretching out her hand to ValentineвАЩs mother. With her clear, high, unembarrassed voice she exclaimed, also from a yard or so away, so as to be heard by everyone in the room: + 

вАЬYouвАЩre Mrs.¬†Wannop. The great writer! IвАЩm Christopher TietjensвАЩ wife.вАЭ + 

The old lady, with her dim eyes, looked up at the younger woman towering above her. + 

вАЬYouвАЩre ChristopherвАЩs wife!вАЭ she said. вАЬI must kiss you for all the kindness he has shown me.вАЭ + 

Valentine felt her eyes filling with tears. She saw her mother stand up, place both her hands on the other womanвАЩs shoulders. She heard her mother say: + 

вАЬYouвАЩre a most beautiful creature. IвАЩm sure youвАЩre good!вАЭ + 

Sylvia stood, smiling faintly, bending a little to accept the embrace. Behind the Macmasters, Tietjens and the staff officers, a little crowd of goggle eyes had ranged itself. + 

Valentine was crying. She slipped back behind the tea-urns, though she could hardly feel the way. Beautiful! The most beautiful woman she had ever seen! And good! Kind! You could see it in the lovely way she had given her cheek to that poor old womanвАЩs lips.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And to live all day, forever, beside himвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ she, Valentine, ought to be ready to lay down her life for Sylvia Tietjens.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

The voice of Tietjens said, just above her head: + 

вАЬYour mother seems to be having a regular triumph,вАЭ and, with his good-natured cynicism, he added, вАЬit seems to have upset some applecarts!вАЭ They were confronted with the spectacle of Macmaster conducting the young celebrity from her deserted armchair across the room to be lost in the horseshoe of crowd that surrounded Mrs.¬†Wannop. + 

Valentine said: + 

вАЬYouвАЩre quite gay today. Your voice is different. I suppose youвАЩre better?вАЭ She did not look at him. His voice came: + 

вАЬYes! IвАЩm relatively gay!вАЭ It went on: вАЬI thought you might like to know. A little of my mathematical brain seems to have come to life again. IвАЩve worked out two or three silly problemsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬMrs.¬†Tietjens will be pleased.вАЭ + 

вАЬOh!вАЭ the answer came. вАЬMathematics donвАЩt interest her any more than cockfighting.вАЭ With immense swiftness, between word and word, Valentine read into that a hope! This splendid creature did not sympathise with her husbandвАЩs activities. But he crushed it heavily by saying: вАЬWhy should she? SheвАЩs so many occupations of her own that sheвАЩs unrivalled at!вАЭ + 

He began to tell her, rather minutely, of a calculation he had made only that day at lunch. He had gone into the Department of Statistics and had had rather a row with Lord Ingleby of Lincoln. A pretty title the fellow had taken! They had wanted him to ask to be seconded to his old department for a certain job. But he had said heвАЩd be damned if he would. He detested and despised the work they were doing. + 

Valentine, for the first time in her life, hardly listened to what he said. Did the fact that Sylvia Tietjens had so many occupations of her own mean that Tietjens found her unsympathetic? Of their relationships she knew nothing. Sylvia had been so much of a mystery as hardly to exist as a problem hitherto. Macmaster, Valentine knew, hated her. She knew that through Mrs.¬†Duchemin; she had heard it ages ago, but she didnвАЩt know why. She had never come to the Macmaster afternoons; but that was natural. Macmaster passed for a bachelor, and it was excusable for a young woman of the highest fashion not to come to bachelor teas of literary and artistic people. On the other hand, Macmaster dined at the Tietjens quite often enough to make it public that he was a friend of that family. Sylvia, too, had never come down to see Mrs.¬†Wannop. But then it would, in the old days, have been a long way to come for a lady of fashion with no especial literary interests. And no one, in mercy, could have been expected to call on poor them in their dog kennel in an outer suburb. They had had to sell almost all their pretty things. + 

Tietjens was saying that after his tempestuous interview with Lord Ingleby of LincolnвБ†вАФshe wished he would not be so rude to powerful people!вБ†вАФhe had dropped in on Macmaster in his private room, and finding him puzzled over a lot of figures had, in the merest spirit of bravado, taken Macmaster and his papers out to lunch. And, he said, chancing to look, without any hope at all, at the figures, he had suddenly worked out an ingenious mystification. It had just come! + 

His voice had been so gay and triumphant that she hadnвАЩt been able to resist looking up at him. His cheeks were fresh coloured, his hair shining; his blue eyes had a little of their old arroganceвБ†вАФand tenderness! Her heart seemed to sing with joy! He was, she felt, her man. She imagined the arms of his mind stretching out to enfold her. + 

He went on explaining. He had rather, in his recovered self-confidence, gibed at Macmaster. Between themselves, wasnвАЩt it easy to do what the Department, under orders, wanted done? They had wanted to rub into our allies that their losses by devastation had been nothing to write home aboutвБ†вАФso as to avoid sending reinforcements to their lines! Well, if you took just the bricks and mortar of the devastated districts, you could prove that the loss in bricks, tiles, woodwork and the rest didnвАЩtвБ†вАФand the figures with a little manipulation would prove it!вБ†вАФamount to more than a normal yearвАЩs dilapidations spread over the whole country in peace time.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ House repairs in a normal year had cost several million sterling. The enemy had only destroyed just about so many million sterling in bricks and mortar. And what was a mere yearвАЩs dilapidations in house property! You just neglected to do them and did them next year. + 

So, if you ignored the lost harvests of three years, the lost industrial output of the richest industrial region of the country, the smashed machinery, the barked fruit trees, the three yearsвАЩ loss of four and a half-tenths of the coal output for three yearsвБ†вАФand the loss of life!вБ†вАФwe could go to our allies and say: + 

вАЬAll your yappings about losses are the merest bulls. You can perfectly well afford to reinforce the weak places of your own lines. We intend to send our new troops to the Near East, where lies our true interest!вАЭ And though they might sooner or later point out the fallacy, you would by so much have put off the abhorrent expedient of a single command. + 

Valentine, though it took her away from her own thoughts, couldnвАЩt help saying: + 

вАЬBut werenвАЩt you arguing against your own convictions?вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬYes, of course I was. In the lightness of my heart! ItвАЩs always a good thing to formulate the other fellowвАЩs objections.вАЭ + 

She had turned half round in her chair. They were gazing into each otherвАЩs eyes, he from above, she from below. She had no doubt of his love: he, she knew, could have no doubt of hers. She said: + 

вАЬBut isnвАЩt it dangerous? To show these people how to do it?вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬOh, no, no. No! You donвАЩt know what a good soul little Vinnie is. I donвАЩt think youвАЩve ever been quite just to Vincent Macmaster! HeвАЩd as soon think of picking my pocket as of picking my brains. The soul of honour!вАЭ + 

Valentine had felt a queer, queer sensation. She was not sure afterwards whether she had felt it before she had realised that Sylvia Tietjens was looking at them. She stood there, very erect, a queer smile on her face. Valentine could not be sure whether it was kind, cruel, or merely distantly ironic; but she was perfectly sure it showed, whatever was behind it, that its wearer knew all that there was to know of her, ValentineвАЩs, feelings for Tietjens and for TietjensвАЩ feelings for her.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was like being a woman and man in adultery in Trafalgar Square. + 

Behind SylviaвАЩs back, their mouths agape, were the two staff officers. Their dark hairs were too untidy for them to amount to much, but, such as they were, they were the two most presentable males of the assemblyвБ†вАФand Sylvia had snaffled them. + 

Mrs.¬†Tietjens said: + 

вАЬOh, Christopher! IвАЩm going on to the BasilвАЩs.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬAll right. IвАЩll pop Mrs.¬†Wannop into the tube as soon as sheвАЩs had enough of it, and come along and pick you up!вАЭ + 

Sylvia had just drooped her long eyelashes, in sign of salutation, to Valentine Wannop, and had drifted through the door, followed by her rather unmilitary military escort in khaki and scarlet. + 

From that moment Valentine Wannop never had any doubt. She knew that Sylvia Tietjens knew that her husband loved her, Valentine Wannop, and that she, Valentine Wannop, loved her husbandвБ†вАФwith a passion absolute and ineffable. The one thing she, Valentine, didnвАЩt know, the one mystery that remained impenetrable, was whether Sylvia Tietjens was good to her husband! + 

A long time afterwards Edith Ethel had come to her beside the teacups and had apologised for not having known, earlier than SylviaвАЩs demonstration, that Mrs.¬†Wannop was in the room. She hoped that they might see Mrs.¬†Wannop much more often. She added after a moment that she hoped Mrs.¬†Wannop wouldnвАЩt, in future, find it necessary to come under the escort of Mr.¬†Tietjens. They were too old friends for that, surely. + 

Valentine said: + 

вАЬLook here, Ethel, if you think that you can keep friends with mother and turn on Mr.¬†Tietjens after all heвАЩs done for you, youвАЩre mistaken. You are really. And motherвАЩs a great deal of influence. I donвАЩt want to see you making any mistakes: just at this juncture. ItвАЩs a mistake to make nasty rows. And youвАЩd make a very nasty one if you said anything against Mr.¬†Tietjens to mother. She knows a great deal. Remember. She lived next door to the rectory for a number of years. And sheвАЩs got a dreadfully incisive tongueвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Edith Ethel coiled back on her feet as if her whole body were threaded by a steel spring. Her mouth opened, but she bit her lower lip and then wiped it with a very white handkerchief. She said: + 

вАЬI hate that man! I detest that man! I shudder when he comes near me.вАЭ + 

вАЬI know you do!вАЭ Valentine Wannop answered. вАЬBut I wouldnвАЩt let other people know it if I were you. It doesnвАЩt do you any real credit. HeвАЩs a good man.вАЭ + 

Edith Ethel looked at her with a long, calculating glance. Then she went to stand before the fireplace. + 

That had been fiveвБ†вАФor at most sixвБ†вАФFridays before Valentine sat with Mark Tietjens in the War Office waiting hall, and, on the Friday immediately before that again, all the guests being gone, Edith Ethel had come to the tea-table and, with her velvet kindness, had placed her right hand on ValentineвАЩs left. Admiring the gesture with a deep fervour, Valentine knew that that was the end. + 

Three days before, on the Monday, Valentine, in her school uniform, in a great store to which she had gone to buy athletic paraphernalia, had run into Mrs.¬†Duchemin, who was buying flowers. Mrs.¬†Duchemin had been horribly distressed to observe the costume. She had said: + 

вАЬBut do you go about in that? ItвАЩs really dreadful.вАЭ + 

Valentine had answered: + 

вАЬOh, yes. When IвАЩm doing business for the school in school hours IвАЩm expected to wear it. And I wear it if IвАЩm going anywhere in a hurry after school hours. It saves my dresses. I havenвАЩt got too many.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut anyone might meet you,вАЭ Edith Ethel said in a note of agony. вАЬItвАЩs very inconsiderate. DonвАЩt you think youвАЩve been very inconsiderate? You might meet any of the people who come to our Fridays!вАЭ + 

вАЬI frequently do,вАЭ Valentine said. вАЬBut they donвАЩt seem to mind. Perhaps they think IвАЩm a Waac officer. That would be quite respectableвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin drifted away, her arms full of flowers and real agony upon her face. + 

Now, beside the tea-table she said, very softly: + 

вАЬMy dear, weвАЩve decided not to have our usual Friday afternoon next week.вАЭ Valentine wondered whether this was merely a lie to get rid of her. But Edith Ethel went on: вАЬWeвАЩve decided to have a little evening festivity. After a great deal of thought weвАЩve come to the conclusion that we ought, now, to make our union public.вАЭ She paused to await comment, but Valentine making none she went on: вАЬIt coincides very happilyвБ†вАФI canвАЩt help feeling it coincides very happily!вБ†вАФwith another event. Not that we set much store by these things.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But it has been whispered to Vincent that next Friday.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Perhaps, my dear Valentine, you, too, will have heardвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Valentine said: + 

вАЬNo. I havenвАЩt. I suppose heвАЩs got the O.B.E. IвАЩm very glad.вАЭ + 

вАЬThe Sovereign,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Duchemin said, вАЬis seeing fit to confer the honour of knighthood on him.вАЭ + 

вАЬWell!вАЭ Valentine said. вАЬHeвАЩs had a quick career. IвАЩve no doubt he deserves it. HeвАЩs worked very hard. I do sincerely congratulate you. ItвАЩll be a great help to you.вАЭ + 

вАЬItвАЩs,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Duchemin said, вАЬnot for mere plodding. ThatвАЩs what makes it so gratifying. ItвАЩs for a special piece of brilliance, that has marked him out. ItвАЩs, of course, a secret. ButвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, I know!вАЭ Valentine said. вАЬHeвАЩs worked out some calculations to prove that losses in the devastated districts, if you ignore machinery, coal output, orchard trees, harvests, industrial products and so on, donвАЩt amount to more than a yearвАЩs household dilapidations for theвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin said with real horror: + 

вАЬBut how did you know? How on earth did you know?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She paused. вАЬItвАЩs such a dead secret.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ That fellow must have told you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But how on earth could he know?вАЭ + 

вАЬI havenвАЩt seen Mr.¬†Tietjens to speak to since the last time he was here,вАЭ Valentine said. She saw, from Edith EthelвАЩs bewilderment, the whole situation. The miserable Macmaster hadnвАЩt even confided to his wife that the practically stolen figures werenвАЩt his own. He desired to have a little prestige in the family circle; for once a little prestige! Well! Why shouldnвАЩt he have it? Tietjens, she knew, would wish him to have all he could get. She said therefore: + 

вАЬOh, itвАЩs probably in the air.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs known the Government want to break their claims to the higher command. And anyone who could help them to that would get a knighthoodвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin was more calm. + 

вАЬItвАЩs certainly,вАЭ she said, вАЬBurkeвАЩd, as you call it, those beastly people.вАЭ She reflected for a moment. вАЬItвАЩs probably that,вАЭ she went on. вАЬItвАЩs in the air. Anything that can help to influence public opinion against those horrible people is to be welcomed. ThatвАЩs known pretty widely.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No! It could hardly be Christopher Tietjens who thought of it and told you. It wouldnвАЩt enter his head. HeвАЩs their friend. He would beвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬHeвАЩs certainly,вАЭ Valentine said, вАЬnot a friend of his countryвАЩs enemies. IвАЩm not myself.вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin exclaimed sharply, her eyes dilated: + 

вАЬWhat do you mean? What on earth do you dare to mean? I thought you were a pro-German!вАЭ + 

Valentine said: + 

вАЬIвАЩm not! IвАЩm not!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I hate menвАЩs deaths.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I hate any menвАЩs deaths.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Any menвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She calmed herself by main force. вАЬMr.¬†Tietjens says that the more we hinder our allies the more we drag the war on and the more lives are lost.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ More lives, do you understand?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin assumed her most aloof, tender and high air: вАЬMy poor child,вАЭ she said, вАЬwhat possible concern can the opinions of that broken fellow cause anyone? You can warn him from me that he does himself no good by going on uttering these discredited opinions. HeвАЩs a marked man. Finished! ItвАЩs no good Guggums, my husband, trying to stand up for him.вАЭ + 

вАЬHe does stand up for him?вАЭ Valentine asked. вАЬThough I donвАЩt see why itвАЩs needed. Mr.¬†Tietjens is surely able to take care of himself.вАЭ + 

вАЬMy good child,вАЭ Edith Ethel said, вАЬyou may as well know the worst. ThereвАЩs not a more discredited man in London than Christopher Tietjens, and my husband does himself infinite harm in standing up for him. ItвАЩs our one quarrel.вАЭ + 

She went on again: + 

вАЬIt was all very well whilst that fellow had brains. He was said to have some intellect, though I could never see it. But now that, with his drunkenness and debaucheries, he has got himself into the state he is in; for thereвАЩs no other way of accounting for his condition! TheyвАЩre striking him, I donвАЩt mind telling you, off the roll of his officeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

It was there that, for the first time, the thought went through Valentine WannopвАЩs mind, like a mad inspiration: this woman must at one time have been in love with Tietjens. It was possible, men being what they were, that she had even once been TietjensвАЩ mistress. For it was impossible otherwise to account for this spite, which to Valentine seemed almost meaningless. She had, on the other hand, no impulse to defend Tietjens against accusations that could not have any possible grounds. + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin was going on with her kind loftiness: + 

вАЬOf course a fellow like thatвБ†вАФin that condition!вБ†вАФcould not understand matters of high policy. It is imperative that these fellows should not have the higher command. It would pander to their insane spirit of militarism. They must be hindered. IвАЩm talking, of course, between ourselves, but my husband says that that is the conviction in the very highest circles. To let them have their way, even if it led to earlier success, would be to establish a precedentвБ†вАФso my husband says!вБ†вАФcompared with which the loss of a few livesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Valentine sprang up, her face distorted. + 

вАЬFor the sake of Christ,вАЭ she cried out, вАЬas you believe that Christ died for you, try to understand that millions of menвАЩs lives are at stakeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin smiled. + 

вАЬMy poor child,вАЭ she said, вАЬif you moved in the higher circles you would look at these things with more aloofnessвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Valentine leant on the back of a high chair for support. + 

вАЬYou donвАЩt move in the higher circles,вАЭ she said. вАЬFor HeavenвАЩs sakeвБ†вАФfor your ownвБ†вАФremember that you are a woman, not forever and for always a snob. You were a good woman once. You stuck to your husband for quite a long timeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin, in her chair, had thrown herself back. + 

вАЬMy good girl,вАЭ she said, вАЬhave you gone mad?вАЭ + 

Valentine said: + 

вАЬYes, very nearly. IвАЩve got a brother at sea; IвАЩve had a man I loved out there for an infinite time. You can understand that, I suppose, even if you canвАЩt understand how one can go mad merely at the thoughts of suffering at all.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And I know, Edith Ethel, that you are afraid of my opinion of you, or you wouldnвАЩt have put up all the subterfuges and concealments of all these yearsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin said quickly: + 

вАЬOh, my good girl.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If youвАЩve got personal interests at stake you canвАЩt be expected to take abstract views of the higher matters. We had better change the subject.вАЭ + 

Valentine said: + 

вАЬYes, do. Get on with your excuses for not asking me and mother to your knighthood party.вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin, too, rose at that. She felt at her amber beads with long fingers that turned very slightly at the tips. She had behind her all her mirrors, the drops of her lustres, shining points of gilt and of the polish of dark woods. Valentine thought that she had never seen anyone so absolutely impersonate kindness, tenderness and dignity. She said: + 

вАЬMy dear, I was going to suggest that it was the sort of party to which you might not care to come.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The people will be stiff and formal and you probably havenвАЩt got a frock.вАЭ + 

Valentine said: + 

вАЬOh, IвАЩve got a frock all right. But thereвАЩs a JacobвАЩs ladder in my party stockings and thatвАЩs the sort of ladder you canвАЩt kick down.вАЭ She couldnвАЩt help saying that. + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin stood motionless and very slowly redness mounted into her face. It was most curious to see against that scarlet background the vivid white of the eyes and the dark, straight eyebrows that nearly met. And, slowly again her face went perfectly white; then her dark blue eyes became marked. She seemed to wipe her long, white hands one in the other, inserting her right hand into her left drawing it out again. + 

вАЬIвАЩm sorry,вАЭ she said in a dead voice. вАЬWe had hoped that, if that man went to FranceвБ†вАФor if other things happenedвБ†вАФwe might have continued on the old friendly footing. But you yourself must see that, with our official position, we canвАЩt be expected to conniveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Valentine said: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt understand!вАЭ + 

вАЬPerhaps youвАЩd rather I didnвАЩt go on!вАЭ Mrs.¬†Duchemin retorted. вАЬIвАЩd much rather not go on.вАЭ + 

вАЬYouвАЩd probably better,вАЭ Valentine answered. + 

вАЬWe had meant,вАЭ the elder woman said, вАЬto have a quiet little dinnerвБ†вАФwe two and you, before the partyвБ†вАФfor auld lang syne. But that fellow has forced himself in, and you see for yourself that we canвАЩt have you as well.вАЭ + 

Valentine said: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt see why not. I always like to see Mr.¬†Tietjens!вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin looked hard at her. + 

вАЬI donвАЩt see the use,вАЭ she said, вАЬof your keeping on that mask. It is surely bad enough that your mother should go about with that man and that terrible scenes like that of the other Friday should occur. Mrs.¬†Tietjens was heroic; nothing less than heroic. But you have no right to subject us, your friends, to such ordeals.вАЭ + 

Valentine said: + 

вАЬYou meanвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Mrs.¬†Christopher TietjensвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin went on: + 

вАЬMy husband insists that I should ask you. But I will not. I simply will not. I invented for you the excuse of the frock. Of course we could have given you a frock if that man is so mean or so penniless as not to keep you decent. But I repeat, with our official position we cannotвБ†вАФwe cannot; it would be madness!вБ†вАФconnive at this intrigue. And all the more as the wife appears likely to be friendly with us. She has been once: she may well come again.вАЭ She paused and went on solemnly: вАЬAnd I warn you, if the split comesвБ†вАФas it must, for what woman could stand it!вБ†вАФit is Mrs.¬†Tietjens we shall support. She will always find a home here.вАЭ + 

An extraordinary picture of Sylvia Tietjens standing beside Edith Ethel and dwarfing her as a giraffe dwarfs an emu, came into ValentineвАЩs head. She said: + 

вАЬEthel! Have I gone mad? Or is it you? Upon my word I canвАЩt understandвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin exclaimed: + 

вАЬFor GodвАЩs sake hold your tongue, you shameless thing! YouвАЩve had a child by the man, havenвАЩt you?вАЭ + 

Valentine saw suddenly the tall silver candlesticks, the dark polished panels of the rectory and Edith EthelвАЩs mad face and mad hair whirling before them. + 

She said: + 

вАЬNo! I certainly havenвАЩt. Can you get that into your head? I certainly havenвАЩt.вАЭ She made a further effort over immense fatigue. вАЬI assure youвБ†вАФI beg you to believe if it will give you any easeвБ†вАФthat Mr.¬†Tietjens has never addressed a word of love to me in his life. Nor have I to him. We have hardly talked to each other in all the time we have known each other.вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin said in a harsh voice: + 

вАЬSeven people in the last five weeks have told me you have had a child by that brute beast: heвАЩs ruined because he has to keep you and your mother and the child. You wonвАЩt deny that he has a child somewhere hidden away?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Valentine exclaimed suddenly: + 

вАЬOh, Ethel, you mustnвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you mustnвАЩt be jealous of me! If you only knew you wouldnвАЩt be jealous of me.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I suppose the child you were going to have was by Christopher? Men are like that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But not of me! You need never, never. IвАЩve been the best friend you can ever have hadвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Duchemin exclaimed harshly, as if she were being strangled: + 

вАЬA sort of blackmail! I knew it would come to that! It always does with your sort. Then do your damnedest, you harlot. You never set foot in this house again! Go you and rotвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Her face suddenly expressed extreme fear and with great swiftness she ran up the room. Immediately afterwards she was tenderly bending over a great bowl of roses beneath the lustre. The voice of Vincent Macmaster from the door had said: + 

вАЬCome in, old man. Of course IвАЩve got ten minutes. The bookвАЩs in here somewhereвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Macmaster was beside her, rubbing his hands, bending with his curious, rather abject manner, and surveying her agonisedly with his eyeglass, which enormously magnified his lashes, his red lower lid and the veins on his cornea. + 

вАЬValentine!вАЭ he said, вАЬmy dear Valentine.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YouвАЩve heard? WeвАЩve decided to make it public.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Guggums will have invited you to our little feast. And there will be a surprise I believeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Edith Ethel looked, as she bent, lamentably and sharply, over her shoulder at Valentine. + 

вАЬYes,вАЭ she said bravely, aiming her voice at Edith Ethel, вАЬEthel has invited me. IвАЩll try to comeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, but you must,вАЭ Macmaster said, вАЬjust you and Christopher, whoвАЩve been so kind to us. For old timeвАЩs sake. You could notвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Christopher Tietjens was ballooning slowly from the door, his hand tentatively held out to her. As they practically never shook hands at home it was easy to avoid his hand. She said to herself: вАЬOh! How is it possible! How could he haveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ And the terrible situation poured itself over her mind: the miserable little husband, the desperately nonchalant loverвБ†вАФand Edith Ethel mad with jealousy! A doomed household. She hoped Edith Ethel had seen her refuse her hand to Christopher. + 

But Edith Ethel, bent over her rose bowl, was burying her beautiful face in flower after flower. She was accustomed to do this for many minutes on end: she thought that, so, she resembled a picture by the subject of her husbandвАЩs first little monograph. And so, Valentine thought, she did. She was trying to tell Macmaster that Friday evenings were difficult times for her to get away. But her throat ached too much. That, she knew, was her last sight of Edith Ethel, whom she had loved very much. That also, she hoped, would be her last sight of Christopher TietjensвБ†вАФwhom also she had loved very much.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He was browsing along a bookshelf, very big and very clumsy. + 

Macmaster pursued her into the stony hall with clamorous repetitions of his invitation. She couldnвАЩt speak. At the great iron-lined door he held her hand for an eternity, gazing lamentably, his face close up against hers. He exclaimed in accents of great fear: + 

вАЬHas Guggums?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She hasnвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His face, which when you saw it so closely was a little blotched, distorted itself with anxiety: he glanced aside with panic at the drawing-room door. + 

Valentine burst a voice through her agonised throat. + 

вАЬEthel,вАЭ she said, вАЬhas told me sheвАЩs to be Lady Macmaster. IвАЩm so glad. IвАЩm so truly glad for you. YouвАЩve got what you wanted, havenвАЩt you?вАЭ + 

His relief let him get out distractedly, yet as if he were too tired to be any more agitated: + 

вАЬYes! yes!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs, of course, a secret.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I donвАЩt want him told till Friday nextвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ so as to be a sort of bonne boucheвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ HeвАЩs practically certain to go out again on Saturday.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ TheyвАЩre sending out a great batch of themвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for the big pushвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ At that she tried to draw her hand from his: she missed what he was saying. It was something to the effect that he would give it all for a happy little party. She caught the rather astonishing words: вАЬWie in alter schoenen Zeit.вАЭ She couldnвАЩt tell whether it was his or her eyes that were full of tears. She said: + 

вАЬI believeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I believe youвАЩre a kind man!вАЭ + 

In the great stone hall, hung with long Japanese paintings on silk, the electric light suddenly jumped; it was at best a sad, brown place. + 

He exclaimed: + 

вАЬI, too, beg you to believe that I will never abandonвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He glanced again at the inner door and added: вАЬYou bothвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I will never abandonвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you both!вАЭ he repeated. + 

He let go her hand: she was on the stone stairs in the damp air. The great door closed irresistibly behind her, sending a whisper of air downwards. + 