I + 

Sylvia Tietjens rose from her end of the lunch-table and swayed along it, carrying her plate. She still wore her hair in bandeaux and her skirts as long as she possibly could: she didnвАЩt, she said, with her height, intend to be taken for a girl guide. She hadnвАЩt, in complexion, in figure or in the languor of her gestures, aged by a minute. You couldnвАЩt discover in the skin of her face any deadness: in her eyes the shade more of fatigue than she intended to express, but she had purposely increased her air of scornful insolence. That was because she felt that her hold over men increased to the measure of her coldness. Someone, she knew, had once said of a dangerous woman, that when she entered the room every woman kept her husband on the leash. It was SylviaвАЩs pleasure to think that, before she went out of that room, all the women in it realised with mortificationвБ†вАФthat they neednвАЩt! For if coolly and distinctly she had said on entering: вАЬNothing doing!вАЭ as barmaids will to the enterprising, she couldnвАЩt more plainly have conveyed to the other women that she had no use for their treasured rubbish. + 

Once, on the edge of a cliff in Yorkshire, where the moors come above the sea, during one of the tiresome shoots that are there the fashion, a man had bidden her observe the demeanour of the herring gulls below. They were dashing from rock to rock on the cliff face, screaming, with none of the dignity of gulls. Some of them even let fall the herrings that they had caught and she saw the pieces of silver dropping into the blue motion. The man told her to look up; high, circling and continuing for a long time to circle; illuminated by the sunlight below, like a pale flame against the sky was a bird. The man told her that that was some sort of fish-eagle or hawk. Its normal habit was to chase the gulls which, in their terror, would drop their booty of herrings, whereupon the eagle would catch the fish before it struck the water. At the moment the eagle was not on duty, but the gulls were just as terrified as if it had been. + 

Sylvia stayed for a long time watching the convolutions of the eagle. It pleased her to see that, though nothing threatened the gulls, they yet screamed and dropped their herringsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The whole affair reminded her of herself in her relationship to the ordinary women of the barnyard.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Not that there was the breath of a scandal against herself; that she very well knew, and it was her preoccupation just as turning down nice menвБ†вАФthe вАЬreally nice menвАЭ of commerceвБ†вАФwas her hobby. + 

She practised every kind of вАЬturning downвАЭ on these creatures: the really nice ones, with the Kitchener moustaches, the sealвАЩs brown eyes, the honest, thrilling voices, the clipped words, the straight backs and the admirable recordsвБ†вАФas long as you didnвАЩt enquire too closely. Once, in the early days of the Great Struggle, a young manвБ†вАФshe had smiled at him in mistake for someone more trustableвБ†вАФhad followed in a taxi, hard on her motor, and flushed with wine, glory and the firm conviction that all women in that lurid carnival had become common property, had burst into her door from the public stairs.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She had overtopped him by the forehead and before a few minutes were up she seemed to him to have become ten foot high with a gift of words that scorched his backbone and the voice of a frozen marble statue: a chaud-froid effect. He had come in like a stallion, red eyed, and all his legs off the ground: he went down the stairs like a half-drowned rat, with dim eyes and really looking wet, for some reason or other. + 

Yet she hadnвАЩt really told him more than the way one should behave to the wives of oneвАЩs brother officers then actually in the line, a point of view that, with her intimates, she daily agreed was pure bosh. But it must have seemed to him like the voice of his motherвБ†вАФwhen his mother had been much younger, of courseвБ†вАФspeaking from paradise, and his conscience had contrived the rest of his general wetness. This, however, had been melodrama and war stuff at that: it hadnвАЩt, therefore, interested her. She preferred to inflict deeper and more quiet pains. + 

She could, she flattered herself, tell the amount of empressement which a man would develop about herself at the first glanceвБ†вАФthe amount and the quality too. And from not vouchsafing a look at all, or a look of the barest and most incurious to some poor devil who even on introduction couldnвАЩt conceal his desires, to letting, after dinner, a measured glance travel from the right foot of a late dinner partner, diagonally up the ironed fold of the right trouser to the watch pocket, diagonally still, across the shirt front, pausing at the stud and so, rather more quickly away over the left shoulder, while the poor fellow stood appalled, with his dinner going wrongвБ†вАФfrom the milder note to the more pronounced she ran the whole gamut of вАЬturnings down.вАЭ The poor fellows next day would change their bootmakers, their sock merchants, their tailors, the designers of their dress-studs and shirts: they would sigh even to change the cut of their faces, communing seriously with their after-breakfast mirrors. But they knew in their hearts that calamity came from the fact that she hadnвАЩt deigned to look into their eyes.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Perhaps hadnвАЩt dared was the right word! + 

Sylvia, herself, would have cordially acknowledged that it might have been. She knew that, like her intimatesвБ†вАФall the Elizabeths, Alixs, and Lady Moiras of the smooth-papered, be-photographed weekly journalsвБ†вАФshe was man-mad. It was the condition, indeed, of their intimacy as of their eligibilities for reproduction on hot-pressed paper. They went about in bands with, as it were, a cornfield of feather boas floating above them, though to be sure no one wore feather boas; they shortened their hairs and their skirts and flattened, as far as possible, their chest developments, which does give, oh, you knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a certainвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ They adopted demeanours as like as possibleвБ†вАФand yet how unlikeвБ†вАФto those of waitresses in teashops frequented by city men. And one reads in police court reports of raids what those are! Probably they were, in action, as respectable as any body of women; more respectable, probably, than the great middle class of before the war, and certainly spotless by comparison with their own upper servants whose morals, merely as recorded in the divorce court statisticsвБ†вАФthat she had from TietjensвБ†вАФwould put to shame even those of Welsh or lowland Scotch villages. Her mother was accustomed to say that she was sure her butler would get to heaven, simply because the Recording Angel, being an angelвБ†вАФand, as such, delicately mindedвБ†вАФwouldnвАЩt have the face to put down, much less read out, the least venial of MorganвАЩs offences.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

And, sceptical as she was by nature, Sylvia Tietjens didnвАЩt really even believe in the capacity for immoralities of her friends. She didnвАЩt believe that any one of them was seriously what the French would call the ma√Ѓtresse en t√Ѓtre of any particular man. Passion wasnвАЩt, at least, their strong suit: they left that to moreвБ†вАФor to lessвБ†вАФaugust circles. The Duke of AвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and all the little AвАЩsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ might be the children of the morose and passion-stricken Duke of BвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ instead of the still more morose but less passionate late Duke of AвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Mr.¬†C, the Tory statesman and late Foreign Minister, might equally be the father of all the children of the Tory Lord Chancellor EвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The Whig front benches, the gloomy and disagreeable Russells and Cavendishes trading off theseвБ†вАФagain FrenchвБ†вАФcollages s√©rieux against the matrimonial divagations of their own Lord F and Mr.¬†G.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But those amorous of heavily titled and born front benchers were rather of august politics. The hot-pressed weekly journals never got hold of them: the parties to them didnвАЩt, for one thing, photograph well, being old, uglyish and terribly, badly dressed. They were matter rather for the memoirs of the indiscreet, already written, but not to see the light for fifty years.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

The affairs of her own set, female front benchers of one side or other as they were, were more tenuous. If they ever came to heads, their affairs, they had rather the nature of promiscuity and took place at the country houses where bells rang at five in the morning. Sylvia had heard of such country houses, but she didnвАЩt know of any. She imagined that they might be the baronial halls of such barons of the crown as had patronymics ending in вАЬschenвАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬsteinвАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and вАЬbaum.вАЭ There were getting to be a good many of these, but Sylvia did not visit them. She had in her that much of the papist. + 

Certain of her more brilliant girl friends certainly made very sudden marriages; but the averages of those were not markedly higher than in the case of the daughters of doctors, solicitors, the clergy, the lord mayors and common councilmen. They were the product usually of the more informal type of dance, of inexperience and champagneвБ†вАФof champagne of unaccustomed strength or of champagne taken in unusual circumstancesвБ†вАФfasting as often as not. They were, these hasty marriages, hardly ever the result of either passion or temperamental lewdness. + 

In her own caseвБ†вАФyears ago nowвБ†вАФshe had certainly been taken advantage of, after champagne, by a married man called Drake. A bit of a brute she acknowledged him now to be. But after the event passion had developed: intense on her side and quite intense enough on his. When, in a scare that had been as much her motherвАЩs as her own, she had led Tietjens on and married him in Paris to be out of the wayвБ†вАФthough it was fortunate that the English Catholic church of the Avenue Hoche had been the scene of her motherвАЩs marriage also, thus establishing a precedent and an ostensible reason!вБ†вАФthere had been dreadful scenes right up to the very night of the marriage. She had hardly to close her eyes in order to see the Paris hotel bedroom, the distorted face of Drake, who was mad with grief and jealousy, against a background of white things, flowers and the like, sent in overnight for the wedding. She knew that she had been very near death. She had wanted death. + 

And even now she had only to see the name of Drake in the paperвБ†вАФher motherвАЩs influence with the pompous front bencher of the Upper House, her cousin, had put Drake in the way of colonial promotions that were recorded in gazettesвБ†вАФnay, she had only involuntarily to think of that night and she would stop dead, speaking or walking, drive her nails into her palms and groan slightly.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She had to invent a chronic stitch in her heart to account for this groan which ended in a mumble and seemed to herself to degrade her.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

The miserable memory would come, ghostlike, at any time, anywhere. She would see DrakeвАЩs face, dark against the white things; she would feel the thin nightgown ripping off her shoulder; but most of all she would seem, in darkness that excluded the light of any room in which she might be, to be transfused by the mental agony that there she had felt: the longing for the brute who had mangled her: the dreadful pain of the mind. The odd thing was that the sight of Drake himself, whom she had seen several times since the outbreak of the war, left her completely without emotion. She had no aversion, but no longing for him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She had, nevertheless, longing, but she knew it was longing merely to experience again the dreadful feeling. And not with Drake.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Her вАЬturnings downвАЭ then of the really nice men, if it were a sport, was a sport not without a spice of danger. She imagined that, after a success, she must feel much of the exhilaration that men told her they felt after bringing off a clean right and left, and no doubt she felt some of the emotions that the same young men felt when they were out shooting with beginners. Her personal chastity she now cherished much as she cherished her personal cleanliness and persevered in her Swedish exercises after her baths before an open window, her rides afterwards, and her long nights of dancing which she would pursue in any room that was decently ventilated. Indeed, the two sides of life were, in her mind, intimately connected: she kept herself attractive by her skillfully selected exercises and cleanlinesses: and the same fatigues, healthful as they were, kept her in the mood for chastity of life. She had done so ever since her return to her husband; and this not because of any attachment to her husband or to virtue as such, as because she had made the pact with herself out of caprice and meant to keep it. She had to have men at her feet: that was, as it were, the price of herвБ†вАФpurely socialвБ†вАФdaily bread: as it was the price of the daily bread of her intimates. She was, and had been for many years, absolutely continent. And so very likely were, and had been, all her Moiras, and Megs, and Lady MarjoriesвБ†вАФbut she was perfectly aware that they had to have, above their assemblies as it were, a light vapour of the airs and habits of the brothel. The public demanded thatвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a light vapour, like the slight traces of steam that she had seen, glutinously adhering to the top of the water in the crocodile-houses of the Zoo. + 

It was, indeed, the price; and she was aware that she had been lucky. Not many of the hastily-married young women of her set really kept their heads above water in her set: for a season you would read that Lady Marjorie and Captain Hunt, after her presentation at Court on the occasion of her marriage, were to be seen at Roehampton, at Goodwood and the like: photographs of the young couple, striding along with the palings of the Row behind them, would appear for a month or so. Then the records of their fashionable doings would transfer themselves to the lists of the attendants and attach√©s of distant viceregal courts in tropics bad for the complexion. вАЬAnd then no more of he and she,вАЭ as Sylvia put it. + 

In her case it hadnвАЩt been so bad, but it had been nearish. She had had the advantage of being an only daughter of a very rich woman: her husband wasnвАЩt just any Captain Hunt to stick on a viceregal staff. He was in a first-class office and when Ang√©lique wrote notes on the young m√©nage she couldвБ†вАФAng√©liqueвАЩs ideas of these things being hazyвБ†вАФalways refer to the husband as the future Lord Chancellor or Ambassador to Vienna. And their little, frightfully expensive establishmentвБ†вАФto which her mother, who had lived with them had very handsomely contributedвБ†вАФhad floated them over the first dangerous two years. They had entertained like mad, and two much-canvassed scandals had had their beginnings in SylviaвАЩs small drawing-room. She had been quite established when she had gone off with Perowne.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

And coming back had not been so difficult. She had expected it would be, but it hadnвАЩt. Tietjens had stipulated for large rooms in GrayвАЩs Inn. That hadnвАЩt seemed to her to be reasonable; but she imagined that he wanted to be near his friend and, though she had no gratitude to Tietjens for taking her back and nothing but repulsion from the idea of living in his house, as they were making a bargain, she owed it to herself to be fair. She had never swindled a railway company, brought dutiable scent past a customhouse or represented to a secondhand dealer that her clothes were less worn than they were, though with her prestige she could actually have done this. It was fair that Tietjens should live where he wished and live there they did, their very tall windows looking straight into those of Macmaster across the Georgian quadrangle. + 

They had two floors of a great building, and that gave them a great deal of space, the breakfast-room, in which during the war they also lunched, was an immense room, completely lined with books that were nearly all calf-backed, with an immense mirror over an immense, carved, yellow and white marble mantelpiece, and three windows that, in their great height, with the spideriness of their divisions and their old, bulging glassвБ†вАФsome of the panes were faintly violet in ageвБ†вАФgave to the room an eighteenth century distinction. It suited, she admitted, Tietjens, who was an eighteenth century figure of the Dr.¬†Johnson typeвБ†вАФthe only eighteenth century type of which she knew, except for that of the beau something who wore white satin and ruffles, went to Bath and must have been indescribably tiresome. + 

Above, she had a great white drawing-room, with fixings that she knew were eighteenth century and to be respected. For TietjensвБ†вАФagain she admittedвБ†вАФhad a marvellous gift for old furniture: he despised it as such, but he knew it down to the ground. Once when her friend Lady Moira had been deploring the expense of having her new, little house furnished from top to toe under the advice of Sir John Robertson, the specialist (the Moiras had sold Arlington Street stock, lock and barrel to some American), Tietjens, who had come in to tea and had been listening without speaking, had said, with the soft good nature, rather sentimental in tone, that once in a blue moon he would bestow on her prettiest friends: + 

вАЬYou had better let me do it for you.вАЭ + 

Taking a look round SylviaвАЩs great drawing-room, with the white panels, the Chinese lacquer screens, the red laquer and ormolu cabinets and the immense blue and pink carpet (and Sylvia knew that if only for the three panels by a fellow called Fragonard, bought just before Fragonards had been boomed by the late King, her drawing-room was something remarkable), Lady Moira had said to Tietjens, rather flutteringly and almost with the voice with which she began one of her affairs: + 

вАЬOh, if you only would.вАЭ + 

He had done it, and he had done if for a quarter of the estimate of Sir John Robertson. He had done it without effort, as if with a roll or two of his elephantine shoulders, for he seemed to know what was in every dealerвАЩs and auctioneerвАЩs catalogue by looking at the green halfpenny stamp on the wrapper. And, still more astonishingly, he had made love to Lady MoiraвБ†вАФthey had stopped twice with the Moiras in Gloucestershire and the Moiras had three times weekended with Mrs.¬†Satterthwaite as the TietjensвАЩ invit√©s.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Tietjens had made love to Lady Moira quite prettily and sufficiently to tide Moira over until she was ready to begin her affair with Sir William Heathly. + 

For the matter of that, Sir John Robertson, the specialist in old furniture, challenged by Lady Moira to pick holes in her beautiful house, had gone there, poked his large spectacles against cabinets, smelt the varnish of table tops and bitten the backs of chairs in his ancient and shortsighted way, and had then told Lady Moira that Tietjens had bought her nothing that wasnвАЩt worth a bit more than he had given for it. This increased their respect for the old fellow: it explained his several millions. For, if the old fellow proposed to make out of a friend like Moira a profit of 300 percentвБ†вАФlimiting it to that out of sheer affection for a pretty womanвБ†вАФwhat wouldnвАЩt he make out of a naturalвБ†вАФand nationalвБ†вАФenemy like a United States senator! + 

And the old man took a great fancy to Tietjens himselfвБ†вАФwhich Tietjens, to SylviaвАЩs bewilderment, did not resent. The old man would come in to tea and, if Tietjens were present, would stay for hours talking about old furniture. Tietjens would listen without talking. Sir John would expatiate over and over again about this to Mrs.¬†Tietjens. It was extraordinary. Tietjens went purely by instinct: by taking a glance at a thing and chancing its price. According to Sir John one of the most remarkable feats of the furniture trade had been TietjensвАЩ purchase of the Hemingway bureau for Lady Moira. Tietjens, in his dislikeful way, had bought this at a cottage sale for ¬£3 10s., and had told Lady Moira it was the best piece she would ever possess: Lady Moira had gone to the sale with him. Other dealers present had hardly looked at it: Tietjens certainly hadnвАЩt opened it. But at Lady MoiraвАЩs, poking his spectacles into the upper part of the glazed piece, Sir John had put his nose straight on the little bit of inserted yellow wood by a hinge, bearing signature, name and date: вАЬJno. Hemingway, Bath, 1784.вАЭ Sylvia remembered them because Sir John told her so often. It was a lost вАЬpieceвАЭ that the furnishing world had been after for many years. + 

For that exploit the old man seemed to love Tietjens. That he loved Sylvia herself, she was quite aware. He fluttered round her tremulously, gave fantastic entertainments in her honour and was the only man she had never turned down. He had a harem, so it was said, in an enormous house at Brighton or somewhere. But it was another sort of love he bestowed on Tietjens: the rather pathetic love that the aged bestow on their possible successors in office. + 

Once Sir John came into tea and quite formally and with a sort of portentousness announced that that was his seventy-first birthday, and that he was a broken man. He seriously proposed that Tietjens should come into partnership with him with the reversion of the businessвБ†вАФnot, of course, of his private fortune. Tietjens had listened amiably, asking a detail or two of Sir JohnвАЩs proposed arrangement. Then he had said, with the rather caressing voice that he now and then bestowed on a pretty woman, that he didnвАЩt think it would do. There would be too much beastly money about it. As a career it would be more congenial to him than his officeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ but there was too much beastly money about it. + 

Once more, a little to SylviaвАЩs surpriseвБ†вАФbut men are queer creatures!вБ†вАФSir John seemed to see this objection as quite reasonable, though he heard it with regret and combated it feebly. He went away with a relieved jauntiness; for, if he couldnвАЩt have Tietjens he couldnвАЩt; and he invited Sylvia to dine with him somewhere where they were going to have something fabulous and very nasty at about two guineas the ounce on the menu. Something like that! And during dinner Sir John had entertained her by singing the praises of her husband. He said Tietjens was much too great a gentleman to be wasted on the old-furniture trade: that was why he hadnвАЩt persisted. But he sent by Sylvia a message to the effect that if ever Tietjens did come to be in want of moneyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Occasionally Sylvia was worried to know why peopleвБ†вАФas they sometimes didвБ†вАФtold her that her husband had great gifts. To her he was merely unaccountable. His actions and opinions seemed simply the products of capriceвБ†вАФlike her own; and, since she knew that most of her own manifestations were a matter of contrariety, she abandoned the habit of thinking much about him. + 

But gradually and dimly she began to see that Tietjens had, at least, a consistency of character and a rather unusual knowledge of life. This came to her when she had to acknowledge that their move to the Inn of Court had been a social success and had suited herself. When they had discussed the change at LobscheidвБ†вАФor rather when Sylvia had unconditionally given in to every stipulation of Tietjens!вБ†вАФhe had predicted almost exactly what would happen, though it had been the affair of her motherвАЩs cousinвАЩs opera box that had most impressed her. He had told her, at Lobscheid, that he had no intention of interfering with her social level, and she was convinced that he was not going to. He had thought about it a good deal. + 

She hadnвАЩt much listened to him. She had thought, firstly, that he was a fool and, secondly, that he did mean to hurt her. And she acknowledged that he had a certain right. If, after she had been off with another man, she asked this one still to extend to her the honour of his name and the shelter of his roof, she had no right to object to his terms. Her only decent revenge on him was to live afterwards with such equanimity as to let him know the mortification of failure. + 

But at Lobscheid he had talked a lot of nonsense, as it had seemed to her: a mixture of prophecy and politics. The Chancellor of the Exchequer of that date had been putting pressure on the great landlords: the great landlords had been replying by cutting down their establishments and closing their town housesвБ†вАФnot to any great extent, but enough to make a very effective gesture of it, and so as to raise a considerable clamour from footmen and milliners. The TietjensвБ†вАФboth of themвБ†вАФwere of the great land-owning class: they could adopt that gesture of shutting up their Mayfair house and going to live in a wilderness. All the more if they made their wilderness a thoroughly comfortable affair! + 

He had counselled her to present this aspect of the matter to her motherвАЩs cousin, the morosely portentous Rugeley. Rugeley was a great landownerвБ†вАФalmost the greatest of all; and he was a landowner obsessed with a sense of his duties both to his dependants and his even remote relatives. Sylvia had only, Tietjens said, to go to the Duke and tell him that the ChancellorвАЩs exactions had forced them to this move, but that they had done it partly as a protest, and the Duke would accept it almost as a personal tribute to himself. He couldnвАЩt, even as a protest, be expected to shut up Mexborough or reduce his expenses. But, if his humbler relatives spiritedly did, he would almost certainly make it up to them. And RugeleyвАЩs favours were on the portentous scale of everything about him. вАЬI shouldnвАЩt wonder,вАЭ Tietjens had said, вАЬif he didnвАЩt lend you the Rugeley box to entertain in.вАЭ + 

And that is exactly what had happened. + 

The DukeвБ†вАФwho must have kept a register of his remotest cousinsвБ†вАФhad, shortly before their return to London, heard that this young couple had parted with every prospect of a large and disagreeable scandal. He had approached Mrs.¬†SatterthwaiteвБ†вАФfor whom he had a gloomy affectionвБ†вАФand he had been pleased to hear that the rumour was a gross libel. So that, when the young couple actually turned up againвБ†вАФfrom Russia!вБ†вАФRugeley, who perceived that they were not only together, but to all appearances quite united, was determined not only to make it up to them, but to show, in order to abash their libellers as signal a mark of his favour as he could without inconvenience to himself. He, therefore, twiceвБ†вАФbeing a widowerвБ†вАФinvited Mrs.¬†Satterthwaite to entertain for him, Sylvia to invite the guests, and then had Mrs.¬†TietjensвАЩ name placed on the roll of those who could have the Rugeley box at the opera, on application at the Rugeley estate office, when it wasnвАЩt wanted. This was a very great privilege and Sylvia had known how to make the most of it. + 

On the other hand, on the occasion of their conversation at Lobscheid, Tietjens had prophesied what at the time seemed to her a lot of tosh. It had been two or three years before, but Tietjens had said that about the time grouse-shooting began, in 1914, a European conflagration would take place which would shut up half the houses in Mayfair and beggar their inhabitants. He had patiently supported his prophecy with financial statistics as to the approaching bankruptcy of various European powers and the growingly acquisitive skill and rapacity of the inhabitants of Great Britain. She had listened to that with some attention: it had seemed to her rather like the usual nonsense talked in country housesвБ†вАФwhere, irritatingly, he never talked. But she liked to be able to have a picturesque fact or two with which to support herself when she too, to hold attention, wanted to issue moving statements as to revolutions, anarchies and strife in the offing. And she had noticed that when she magpied TietjensвАЩ conversations more serious men in responsible positions were apt to argue with her and to pay her more attention than before.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

And now, walking along the table with her plate in her hand, she could not but acknowledge that, triumphantlyвБ†вАФand very comfortably for her!вБ†вАФTietjens had been right! In the third year of the war it was very convenient to have a dwelling, cheap, comfortable, almost august and so easy to work that you could have, at a pinch, run it with one maid, though the faithful Hullo Central had not let it come to that yet.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Being near Tietjens she lifted her plate, which contained two cold cutlets in aspic and several leaves of salad: she wavered a little to one side and, with a circular motion of her hand, let the whole contents fly at TietjensвАЩ head. She placed the plate on the table and drifted slowly towards the enormous mirror over the fireplace. + 

вАЬIвАЩm bored,вАЭ she said. вАЬBored! Bored!вАЭ + 

Tietjens had moved slightly as she had thrown: the cutlets and most of the salad leaves had gone over his shoulder. But one, couched, very green leaf was on his shoulder-strap, and the oil and vinegar from the plateвБ†вАФSylvia knew that she took too much of all condimentsвБ†вАФhad splashed from the revers of his tunic to his green staff-badges. She was glad that she had hit him as much as that: it meant that her marksmanship had not been quite rotten. She was glad, too, that she had missed him. She was also supremely indifferent. It had occurred to her to do it and she had done it. Of that she was glad! + 

She looked at herself for some time in the mirror of bluish depths. She pressed her immense bandeaux with both hands on to her ears. She was all right: high-featured: alabaster complexionвБ†вАФbut that was mostly the mirrorвАЩs doingвБ†вАФbeautiful, long, cool handsвБ†вАФwhat manвАЩs forehead wouldnвАЩt long for them?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And that hair! What man wouldnвАЩt think of it, unloosed on white shoulders!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Well, Tietjens wouldnвАЩt! Or, perhaps, he didвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ she hoped he did, curse him, for he never saw that sight. Obviously sometimes, at night, with a little whisky taken he must want to! + 

She rang the bell and bade Hullo Central sweep the plateful from the carpet; Hullo Central, tall and dark, looking with wide-open eyes, motionlessly at nothing. + 

Sylvia went along the bookshelves, pausing over a book back, вАЬVitare Hominum NotissвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ in gilt, irregular capitals pressed deep into the old leather. At the first long window she supported herself by the blind-cord. She looked out and back into the room. + 

вАЬThereвАЩs that veiled woman!вАЭ she said, вАЬgoing into eleven.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs two oвАЩclock, of course.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She looked at her husbandвАЩs back hard, the clumsy khaki back that was getting round-shouldered now. Hard! She wasnвАЩt going to miss a motion or a stiffening. + 

вАЬIвАЩve found out who it is!вАЭ she said, вАЬand who she goes to. I got it out of the porter.вАЭ She waited. Then she added: + 

вАЬItвАЩs the woman you travelled down from BishopвАЩs Auckland with. On the day war was declared.вАЭ + 

Tietjens turned solidly round in his chair. She knew he would do that out of stiff politeness, so it meant nothing. + 

His face was whitish in the pale light, but it was always whitish since he had come back from France and passed his day in a tin hut among dust heaps. He said: + 

вАЬSo you saw me!вАЭ But that, too, was mere politeness. + 

She said: + 

вАЬOf course the whole crowd of us from ClaudineвАЩs saw you! It was old Campion who said she was a Mrs.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩve forgotten the name.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬI imagined he would know her. I saw him looking in from the corridor!вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬIs she your mistress, or only MacmasterвАЩs, or the mistress of both of you? It would be like you to have a mistress in common.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ SheвАЩs got a mad husband, hasnвАЩt she? A clergyman.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬShe hasnвАЩt!вАЭ + 

Sylvia checked suddenly in her next questions, and Tietjens, who in these discussions never manoeuvred for position, said: + 

вАЬShe has been Mrs.¬†Macmaster over six months.вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬShe married him then the day after her husbandвАЩs death.вАЭ + 

She drew a long breath and added: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt care.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She has been coming here every Friday for three years.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I tell you I shall expose her unless that little beast pays you tomorrow the money he owes you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ God knows you need it!вАЭ She said then hurriedly, for she didnвАЩt know how Tietjens might take that proposition: + 

вАЬMrs.¬†Wannop rang up this morning to know who wasвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the evil genius of the Congress of Vienna. Who, by the by, is Mrs.¬†WannopвАЩs secretary? She wants to see you this afternoon. About war babies!вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬMrs.¬†Wannop hasnвАЩt got a secretary. ItвАЩs her daughter who does her ringing-up.вАЭ + 

вАЬThe girl,вАЭ Sylvia said, вАЬyou were so potty about at that horrible afternoon Macmaster gave. Has she had a war baby by you? They all say sheвАЩs your mistress.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬNo, Miss Wannop isnвАЩt my mistress. Her mother has had a commission to write an article about war babies. I told her yesterday there werenвАЩt any war babies to speak of, and sheвАЩs upset because she wonвАЩt be able to make a sensational article. She wants to try and make me change my mind.вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬIt was Miss Wannop at that beastly affair of your friends? And I suppose the woman who received was Mrs.¬†WhatвАЩs-er-name; your other mistress. An unpleasant show. I donвАЩt think much of your taste. The one where all the horrible geniuses in London were? There was a man like a rabbit talked to me about how to write poetry.вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩs no good as an identification of the party,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬMacmaster gives a party every Friday, not Saturday. He has for years. Mrs.¬†Macmaster goes there every Friday. To act as hostess. She has for years. Miss Wannop goes there every Friday after she has done work for her mother. To support Mrs.¬†Macmaster.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬShe has for years!вАЭ Sylvia mocked him. вАЬAnd you go there every Friday! to croodle over Miss Wannop. Oh, Christopher!вАЭвБ†вАФshe adopted a mock pathetic voiceвБ†вАФвАЬI never did have much opinion of your tasteвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ but not that! DonвАЩt let it be that. Put her back. SheвАЩs too young for you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬAll the geniuses in London,вАЭ Tietjens continued equably, вАЬgo to MacmasterвАЩs every Friday. He has been trusted with the job of giving away Royal Literary Bounty money: thatвАЩs why they go. They go: thatвАЩs why he was given his C.B.вАЭ + 

вАЬI should not have thought they counted,вАЭ Sylvia said. + 

вАЬOf course they count,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬThey write for the Press. They can get anybody anythingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ except themselves!вАЭ + 

вАЬLike you!вАЭ Sylvia said; вАЬexactly like you! TheyвАЩre a lot of bribed squits.вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, no,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬIt isnвАЩt done obviously or discreditably. DonвАЩt believe that Macmaster distributes forty-pounders yearly of bounty on condition that he gets advancement. He hasnвАЩt, himself, the least idea of how it works, except by his atmosphere.вАЭ + 

вАЬI never knew a beastlier atmosphere,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬIt reeked of rabbitвАЩs food.вАЭ + 

вАЬYouвАЩre quite mistaken,вАЭ Tietjens said; вАЬthat is the Russian leather of the backs of the specially bound presentation copies in the large bookcase.вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt know what youвАЩre talking about,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬWhat are presentation copies? I should have thought youвАЩd had enough of the beastly Russian smells Kiev stunk of.вАЭ + 

Tietjens considered for a moment. + 

вАЬNo! I donвАЩt remember it,вАЭ he said. вАЬKiev?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Oh, itвАЩs where we wereвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYou put half your motherвАЩs money,вАЭ Sylvia said, вАЬinto the Government of Kiev 12¬љ percent. City Tramways.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

At that Tietjens certainly winced, a type of wincing that Sylvia hadnвАЩt wanted. + 

вАЬYouвАЩre not fit to go out tomorrow,вАЭ she said. вАЬI shall wire to old Campion.вАЭ + 

вАЬMrs.¬†Duchemin,вАЭ Tietjens said woodenly. вАЬMrs.¬†Macmaster that is, also used to burn a little incense in the room before the parties.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Those Chinese stinksвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ what do they call them? Well, it doesnвАЩt matterвАЭ; he added that resignedly. Then he went on: вАЬDonвАЩt you make any mistake. Mrs.¬†Macmaster is a very superior woman. Enormously efficient! Tremendously respected. I shouldnвАЩt advise even you to come up against her, now sheвАЩs in the saddle.вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Tietjens said: + 

вАЬThat sort of woman!вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt say you ever will come up against her. Your spheres differ. But, if you do, donвАЩt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I say it because you seem to have got your knife into her.вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt like that sort of thing going on under my windows,вАЭ Sylvia said. + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬWhat sort of thing?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I was trying to tell you a little about Mrs.¬†MacmasterвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ sheвАЩs like the woman who was the mistress of the man who burned the other fellowвАЩs horrid book.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I canвАЩt remember the names.вАЭ + 

Sylvia said quickly: + 

вАЬDonвАЩt try!вАЭ In a slower tone she added: вАЬI donвАЩt in the least want to know.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬWell, she was an Egeria!вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬAn inspiration to the distinguished. Mrs.¬†Macmaster is all that. The geniuses swarm round her, and with the really select ones she corresponds. She writes superior letters, about the Higher Morality usually; very delicate in feeling. Scotch naturally. When they go abroad she sends them snatches of London literary happenings; well done, mind you! And then, every now and then, she slips in something she wants Macmaster to have. But with great delicacy.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Say itвАЩs this C.B.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ she transfuses into the minds of Genius One, Two and Three the idea of a C.B. for Macmaster.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Genius No.¬†One lunches with the Deputy Sub-Patronage Secretary, who looks after literary honours and lunches with geniuses to get the gossip.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia asked: + 

вАЬWhy did you lend Macmaster all that money?вАЭ + 

вАЬMind you,вАЭ Tietjens continued his own speech, вАЬitвАЩs perfectly proper. ThatвАЩs the way patronage is distributed in this country; itвАЩs the way it should be. The only clean way. Mrs.¬†Duchemin backs Macmaster because heвАЩs a first-class fellow for his job. And she is an influence over the geniuses because sheвАЩs a first-class person for hers.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She represents the higher, nicer morality for really nice Scots. Before long she will be getting tickets stopped from being sent to people for the Academy soire√©s. She already does it for the Royal Bounty dinners. A little later, when Macmaster is knighted for bashing the French in the eye, sheвАЩll have a tiny share in auguster assemblies.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Those people have to ask somebody for advice. Well, one day youвАЩll want to present some d√©butante. And you wonвАЩt get a ticket.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬThen IвАЩm glad,вАЭ Sylvia exclaimed, вАЬthat I wrote to BrownieвАЩs uncle about the woman. I was a little sorry this morning because, from what Glorvina told me, youвАЩre in such a devil of a hole.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬWhoвАЩs BrownieвАЩs uncle?вАЭ Tietjens asked. вАЬLordвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ LordвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The banker! I know BrownieвАЩs in his uncleвАЩs bank.вАЭ + 

вАЬPort Scatho!вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬI wish you wouldnвАЩt act forgetting peopleвАЩs names. You overdo it.вАЭ + 

TietjensвАЩ face went a shade whiter.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

вАЬPort Scatho,вАЭ he said, вАЬis the chairman of the Inn Billeting Committees, of course. And you wrote to him?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩm sorry,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬI mean IвАЩm sorry I said that about your forgetting.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I wrote to him and said that as a resident of the Inn I objected to your mistressвБ†вАФhe knows the relationship, of course!вБ†вАФcreeping in every Friday under a heavy veil and creeping out every Saturday at four in the morning.вАЭ + 

вАЬLord Port Scatho knows about my relationship,вАЭ Tietjens began. + 

вАЬHe saw her in your arms in the train,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬIt upset Brownie so much he offered to shut down your overdraft and return any cheques you had out marked R.D.вАЭ + 

вАЬTo please you?вАЭ Tietjens asked. вАЬDo bankers do that sort of thing? ItвАЩs a new light on British society.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬI suppose bankers try to please their women friends, like other men,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬI told him very emphatically it wouldnвАЩt please meвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ButвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She hesitated: вАЬI wouldnвАЩt give him a chance to get back on you. I donвАЩt want to interfere in your affairs. But Brownie doesnвАЩt like you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬHe wants you to divorce me and marry him?вАЭ Tietjens asked. + 

вАЬHow did you know?вАЭ Sylvia asked indifferently. вАЬI let him give me lunch now and then because itвАЩs convenient to have him manage my affairs, you being away.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But of course he hates you for being in the army. All the men who arenвАЩt hate all the men who are. And, of course, when thereвАЩs a woman between them the men who arenвАЩt do all they can to do the others in. When theyвАЩre bankers they have a pretty good pull.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬI suppose they have,вАЭ Tietjens said, vaguely; вАЬof course they would have.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia abandoned the blind-cord on which she had been dragging with one hand. In order that light might fall on her face and give more impressiveness to her words, for, in a minute or two, when she felt brave enough, she meant really to let him have her bad news!вБ†вАФshe drifted to the fireplace. He followed her round, turning on his chair to give her his face. + 

She said: + 

вАЬLook here, itвАЩs all the fault of this beastly war, isnвАЩt it? Can you deny it?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I mean that decent, gentlemanly fellows like Brownie have turned into beastly squits!вАЭ + 

вАЬI suppose it is,вАЭ Tietjens said dully. вАЬYes, certainly it is. YouвАЩre quite right. ItвАЩs the incidental degeneration of the heroic impulse: if the heroic impulse has too even a strain put on it the incidental degeneration gets the upper hand. That accounts for the BrowniesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ all the BrowniesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ turning squits.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬThen why do you go on with it?вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬGod knows I could wangle you out if youвАЩd back me in the least little way.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬThanks! I prefer to remain in it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ How else am I to get a living?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYou know then,вАЭ Sylvia exclaimed almost shrilly. вАЬYou know that they wonвАЩt have you back in the office if they can find a way of getting you out.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, theyвАЩll find that!вАЭ Tietjens said.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He continued his other speech: вАЬWhen we go to war with France,вАЭ he said dully.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And Sylvia knew he was only now formulating his settled opinion so as not to have his active brain to give to the discussion. He must be thinking hard of the Wannop girl! With her littleness: her tweed-skirtishness.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A provincial miniature of herself, Sylvia Tietjens.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If she, then, had been miniature, provincial.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But TietjensвАЩ words cut her as if she had been lashed with a dog-whip. вАЬWe shall behave more creditably,вАЭ he had said, вАЬbecause there will be less heroic impulse about it. We shallвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ half of usвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ be ashamed of ourselves. So there will be much less incidental degeneration.вАЭ + 

Sylvia, who by that was listening to him, abandoned the consideration of Miss Wannop and the pretence that obsessed her of Tietjens saying four words, against a background of books at MacmasterвАЩs party. She exclaimed: + 

вАЬGood God! What are you talking about?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens went on: + 

вАЬAbout our next war with France.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ WeвАЩre the natural enemies of the French. We have to make our bread either by robbing them or making catspaws of them.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬWe canвАЩt! We couldnвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬWeвАЩve got to!вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬItвАЩs the condition of our existence. WeвАЩre a practically bankrupt, overpopulated, northern country: theyвАЩre rich southerners, with a falling population. Towards 1930 we shall have to do what Prussia did in 1914. Our conditions will be exactly those of Prussia then. ItвАЩs theвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ what is it called?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬButвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Sylvia cried out. вАЬYouвАЩre a Franco-maniac.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YouвАЩre thought to be a French agent.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThatвАЩs whatвАЩs bitching your career!вАЭ + 

вАЬI am?вАЭ Tietjens asked uninterestedly. He added: вАЬYes, that probably would bitch my career.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He went on, with a little more animation and a little more of his mind: + 

вАЬAh! that will be a war worth seeing.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ None of their drunken rat-fighting for imbecile boodlersвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬIt would drive mother mad!вАЭ Sylvia said. + 

вАЬOh, no it wouldnвАЩt,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬIt will stimulate her if she is still alive.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Our heroes wonвАЩt be drunk with wine and lechery: our squits wonвАЩt stay at home and stab the heroes in the back. Our Minister for Waterclosets wonвАЩt keep two and a half million men in any base in order to get the votes of their women at a General ElectionвБ†вАФthatвАЩs been the first evil effects of giving women the vote! With the French holding Ireland and stretching in a solid line from Bristol to Whitehall, we should hang the Minister before he had time to sign the papers. And we should be decently loyal to our Prussian allies and brothers.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Our Cabinet wonвАЩt hate them as they hate the French for being frugal and strong in logic and well-educated and remorselessly practical. Prussians are the sort of fellows you can be hoggish with when you want to.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia interjected violently: + 

вАЬFor GodвАЩs sake stop it. You almost make me believe what you say is true. I tell you mother would go mad. Her greatest friend is the Duchesse Tonnerre Chateaulherault.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬWell!вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬYour greatest friends are the MedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ MedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the Austrian officers you take chocolates and flowers to. That there was all the row aboutвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ weвАЩre at war with them and you havenвАЩt gone mad!вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt know,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬSometimes I think I am going mad!вАЭ She drooped. Tietjens, his face very strained, was looking at the tablecloth. He muttered: вАЬMedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ MetвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ KosвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Sylvia said: + 

вАЬDo you know a poem called вАШSomewhereвАЩ? It begins: вАШSomewhere or other there must surely beвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЩвАКвАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬIвАЩm sorry. No! I havenвАЩt been able to get up my poetry again.вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬDonвАЩt!вАЭ She added: вАЬYouвАЩve got to be at the War Office at 4:15, havenвАЩt you? WhatвАЩs the time now?вАЭ She extremely wanted to give him her bad news before he went; she extremely wanted to put off giving it as long as she could. She wanted to reflect on the matter first; she wanted also to keep up a desultory conversation, or he might leave the room. She didnвАЩt want to have to say to him: вАЬWait a minute, IвАЩve something to say to you!вАЭ for she might not, at that moment, be in the mood. He said it was not yet two. He could give her an hour and a half more. + 

To keep the conversation going, she said: + 

вАЬI suppose the Wannop girl is making bandages or being a Waac. Something forceful.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬNo; sheвАЩs a pacifist. As pacifist as you. Not so impulsive; but, on the other hand, she has more arguments. I should say sheвАЩll be in prison before the warвАЩs over.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬA nice time you must have between the two of us,вАЭ Sylvia said. The memory of her interview with the great lady nicknamed GlorvinaвБ†вАФthough it was not at all a good nicknameвБ†вАФwas coming over her forcibly. + 

She said: + 

вАЬI suppose youвАЩre always talking it over with her? You see her every day.вАЭ + 

She imagined that that might keep him occupied for a minute or two. He saidвБ†вАФshe caught the sense of it onlyвБ†вАФand quite indifferently that he had tea with Mrs.¬†Wannop every day. She had moved to a place called Bedford Park, which was near his office: not three minutesвАЩ walk. The War Office had put up a lot of huts on some public green in that neighbourhood. He only saw the daughter once a week, at most. They never talked about the war; it was too disagreeable a subject for the young woman. Or rather, too painful.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ His talk gradually drifted into unfinished sentences.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

They played that comedy occasionally, for it is impossible for two people to live in the same house and not have some common meeting ground. So they would each talk: sometimes talking at great length and with politeness, each thinking his or her thoughts till they drifted into silence. + 

And, since she had acquired the habit of going into retreatвБ†вАФwith an Anglican sisterhood in order to annoy Tietjens, who hated convents and considered that the communions should not mixвБ†вАФSylvia had acquired also the habit of losing herself almost completely in reveries. Thus she was now vaguely conscious that a greyish lump, Tietjens, sat at the head of a whitish expanse: the lunch-table. There were also booksвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ actually she was seeing a quite different figure and other booksвБ†вАФthe books of GlorvinaвАЩs husband, for the great lady had received Sylvia in that statesmanвАЩs library. + 

Glorvina, who was the mother of two of SylviaвАЩs absolutely most intimate friends, had sent for Sylvia. She wished, kindly and even wittily, to remonstrate with Sylvia because of her complete abstention from any patriotic activity. She offered Sylvia the address of a place in the city where she could buy wholesale and ready-made diapers for babies which Sylvia could present to some charity or other as being her own work. Sylvia said she would do nothing of the sort, and Glorvina said she would present the idea to poor Mrs.¬†Pilsenhauser. SheвБ†вАФGlorvinaвБ†вАФsaid she spent some time every day thinking out acts of patriotism for the distressed rich with foreign names, accents or antecedents.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Glorvina was a fiftyish lady with a pointed, grey face and a hard aspect; but when she was inclined to be witty or to plead earnestly she had a kind manner. The room in which they were was over a Belgravia back garden. It was lit by a skylight and the shadows from above deepened the lines of her face, accentuating the rather dusty grey of the hair as well as both the hardness and the kind manner. This very much impressed Sylvia, who was used to seeing the lady by artificial light.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

She said, however: + 

вАЬYou donвАЩt suggest, Glorvina, that IвАЩm the distressed rich with a foreign name!вАЭ + 

The great lady had said: + 

вАЬMy dear Sylvia; it isnвАЩt so much you as your husband. Your last exploit with the Esterhazys and Metternichs has pretty well done for him. You forget that the present powers that be are not logicalвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia remembered that she had sprung up from her leather saddleback chair, exclaiming: + 

вАЬYou mean to say that those unspeakable swine think that IвАЩmвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Glorvina said patiently: + 

вАЬMy dear Sylvia, IвАЩve already said itвАЩs not you. ItвАЩs your husband that suffers. He appears to be too good a fellow to suffer. Mr.¬†Waterhouse says so. I donвАЩt know him myself, well.вАЭ + 

Sylvia remembered that she had said: + 

вАЬAnd who in the world is Mr.¬†Waterhouse?вАЭ and, hearing that Mr.¬†Waterhouse was a late Liberal Minister, had lost interest. She couldnвАЩt, indeed, remember any of the further words of her hostess, as words. The sense of them had too much overwhelmed her.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

She stood now, looking at Tietjens and only occasionally seeing him, her mind completely occupied with the effort to recapture GlorvinaвАЩs own words in the desire for exactness. Usually she remembered conversations pretty well; but on this occasion her mad fury, her feeling of nausea, the pain of her own nails in her palms, an unrecoverable sequence of emotions had overwhelmed her. + 

She looked at Tietjens now with a sort of gloating curiosity. How was it possible that the most honourable man she knew should be so overwhelmed by foul and baseless rumours? It made you suspect that honour had, in itself, a quality of the evil eye.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Tietjens, his face pallid, was fingering a piece of toast. He muttered: + 

вАЬMetвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ MetвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs MetвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He wiped his brow with a table-napkin, looked at it with a start, threw it on the floor and pulled out a handkerchief.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He muttered: вАЬMettвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Metter.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His face illuminated itself like the face of a child listening at a shell. + 

Sylvia screamed with a passion of hatred: + 

вАЬFor GodвАЩs sake say MetternichвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ youвАЩre driving me mad!вАЭ + 

When she looked at him again his face had cleared and he was walking quickly to the telephone in the corner of the room. He asked her to excuse him and gave a number at Ealing. He said after a moment: + 

вАЬMrs.¬†Wannop? Oh! My wife has just reminded me that Metternich was the evil genius of the Congress of Vienna.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He said: вАЬYes! Yes!вАЭ and listened. After a time he said: вАЬOh, you could put it stronger than that. You could put it that the Tory determination to ruin Napoleon at all costs was one of those pieces of party imbecility that, etc.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Yes; Castlereagh. And of course Wellington.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩm very sorry I must ring off.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Yes; tomorrow at 8:30 from Waterloo.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No; I shanвАЩt be seeing her again.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No; sheвАЩs made a mistake.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Yes; give her my loveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ goodbye.вАЭ He was reversing the earpiece to hang it up, but a high-pitched series of yelps from the instrument forced it back to his ear: вАЬOh! War babies!вАЭ he exclaimed. вАЬIвАЩve already sent the statistics off to you! No! there isnвАЩt a marked increase of the illegitimacy rate, except in patches. The rateвАЩs appallingly high in the lowlands of Scotland; but it always is appallingly high there.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He laughed and said good-naturedly: вАЬOh, youвАЩre an old journalist: you wonвАЩt let fifty quid go for that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He was breaking off. But: вАЬOr,вАЭ he suddenly exclaimed, вАЬhereвАЩs another idea for you. The rateвАЩs about the same, probably because of this: half the fellows who go out to France are reckless because itвАЩs the last chance, as they see it. But the other half are made twice as conscientious. A decent Tommie thinks twice about leaving his girl in trouble just before heвАЩs killed.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The divorce statistics are up, of course, because people will chance making new starts within the law.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThanksвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ thanksвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He hung up the earpiece.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Listening to that conversation had extraordinarily cleared SylviaвАЩs mind. She said, almost sorrowfully: + 

вАЬI suppose that thatвАЩs why you donвАЩt seduce that girl.вАЭ And she knewвБ†вАФshe had known at once from the suddenly changed inflection of TietjensвАЩ voice when he had said вАЬa decent Tommie thinks twice before leaving his girl in trouble!вАЭвБ†вАФthat Tietjens himself had thought twice. + 

She looked at him now almost incredulously, but with great coolness. Why shouldnвАЩt he, she asked herself, give himself a little pleasure with his girl before going to almost certain, death.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She felt a real, sharp pain at her heart.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A poor wretch in such a devil of a hole.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

She had moved to a chair close beside the fireplace and now sat looking at him, leaning interestedly forward, as if at a garden party she had been findingвБ†вАФpar impossible!вБ†вАФa pastoral play not so badly produced. Tietjens was a fabulous monster.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

He was a fabulous monster not because he was honourable and virtuous. She had known several very honourable and very virtuous men. If she had never known an honourable or virtuous woman except among her French or Austrian friends, that was, no doubt, because virtuous and honourable women did not amuse her or because, except just for the French and Austrians, they were not Roman Catholics.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But the honourable and virtuous men she had known had usually prospered and been respected. They werenвАЩt the great fortunes, but they were well-offish: well spoken of: of the country gentleman typeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Tietjens.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

She arranged her thoughts. To get one point settled in her mind, she asked: + 

вАЬWhat really happened to you in France? What is really the matter with your memory? Or your brain, is it?вАЭ + 

He said carefully: + 

вАЬItвАЩs half of it, an irregular piece of it, dead. Or rather pale. Without a proper blood supply.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ So a great portion of it, in the shape of memory, has gone.вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬBut you!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ without a brain!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ As this was not a question he did not answer. + 

His going at once to the telephone, as soon as he was in the possession of the name вАЬMetternich,вАЭ had at last convinced her that he had not been, for the last four months, acting hypochondriacal or merely lying to obtain sympathy or extended sick leave. Amongst SylviaвАЩs friends a wangle known as shell-shock was cynically laughed at and quite approved of. Quite decent and, as far as she knew, quite brave menfolk of her women would openly boast that, when they had had enough of it over there, they would wangle a little leave or get a little leave extended by simulating this purely nominal disease, and in the general carnival of lying, lechery, drink and howling that this affair was, to pretend to a little shell-shock had seemed to her to be almost virtuous. At any rate if a man passed his time at garden partiesвБ†вАФor, as for the last months Tietjens had done, passed his time in a tin hut amongst dust heaps, going to tea every afternoon in order to help Mrs.¬†Wannop with her newspaper articlesвБ†вАФwhen men were so engaged they were, at least, not trying to kill each other. + 

She said now: + 

вАЬDo you mind telling me what actually happened to you?вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt know that I can very well.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Something burstвБ†вАФor вАШexplodedвАЩ is probably the right wordвБ†вАФnear me, in the dark. I expect youвАЩd rather not hear about it?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬI want to!вАЭ Sylvia said. + 

He said: + 

вАЬThe point about it is that I donвАЩt know what happened and I donвАЩt remember what I did. There are three weeks of my life dead.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What I remember is being in a C.C.S. and not being able to remember my own name.вАЭ + 

вАЬYou mean that?вАЭ Sylvia asked. вАЬItвАЩs not just a way of talking?вАЭ + 

вАЬNo, itвАЩs not just a way of talking,вАЭ Tietjens answered. вАЬI lay in bed in the C.C.S.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Your friends were dropping bombs on it.вАЭ + 

вАЬYou might not call them my friends,вАЭ Sylvia said. + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬI beg your pardon. One gets into a loose way of speaking. The poor bloody Huns then were dropping bombs from aeroplanes, on the hospital huts.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩm not suggesting they knew it was a C.C.S.; it was, no doubt, just carelessness.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYou neednвАЩt spare the Germans for me!вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬYou neednвАЩt spare any man who has killed another man.вАЭ + 

вАЬI was, then, dreadfully worried,вАЭ Tietjens went on. вАЬI was composing a preface for a book on ArminianismвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYou havenвАЩt written a book!вАЭ Sylvia exclaimed eagerly, because she thought that if Tietjens took to writing a book there might be a way of his earning a living. Many people had told her that he ought to write a book. + 

вАЬNo, I hadnвАЩt written a book,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬand I didnвАЩt know what Arminianism wasвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYou know perfectly well what the Arminian heresy is,вАЭ Sylvia said sharply; вАЬyou explained it all to me years ago.вАЭ + 

вАЬYes,вАЭ Tietjens exclaimed. вАЬYears ago I could have, but I couldnвАЩt then. I could now, but I was a little worried about it then. ItвАЩs a little awkward to write a preface about a subject of which you know nothing. But it didnвАЩt seem to me to be discreditable in an army sense.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Still it worried me dreadfully not to know my own name. I lay and worried and worried and thought how discreditable it would appear if a nurse came along and asked me and I didnвАЩt know. Of course my name was on a luggage label tied to my collar; but IвАЩd forgotten they did that to casualties.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Then a lot of people carried pieces of a nurse down the hut: the GermansвАЩ bombs had done that of course. They were still dropping about the place.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut good heavens,вАЭ Sylvia cried out, вАЬdo you mean they carried a dead nurse past you?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬThe poor dear wasnвАЩt dead,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬI wish she had been. Her name was Beatrice CarmichaelвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the first name I learned after my collapse. SheвАЩs dead now of course.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ That seemed to wake up a fellow on the other side of the room with a lot of blood coming through the bandages on his head.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He rolled out of his bed and, without a word, walked across the hut and began to strangle meвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬBut this isnвАЩt believable,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬIвАЩm sorry, but I canвАЩt believe it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You were an officer: they couldnвАЩt have carried a wounded nurse under your nose. They must have known your sister Caroline was a nurse and was killedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬCarrie,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬwas drowned on a hospital ship. I thank God I didnвАЩt have to connect the other girl with her.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But you donвАЩt suppose that in addition to oneвАЩs name, rank, unit, and date of admission theyвАЩd put that IвАЩd lost a sister and two brothers in action and a fatherвБ†вАФof a broken heart, I daresay.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬBut you only lost one brother,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬI went into mourning for him and your sister.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬNo, two,вАЭ Tietjens said; вАЬbut the fellow who was strangling me was what I wanted to tell you about. He let out a number of ear-piercing shrieks and lots of orderlies came and pulled him off me and sat all over him. Then he began to shout вАШFaith!вАЩ He shouted: вАШFaith!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Faith!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Faith!вАЩвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ at intervals of two seconds, as far as I could tell by my pulse, until four in the morning, when he died.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I donвАЩt know whether it was a religious exhortation or a womanвАЩs name, but I disliked him a good deal because he started my tortures, such as they were.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ There had been a girl I knew called Faith. Oh, not a love affair: the daughter of my fatherвАЩs head gardener, a Scotsman. The point is that every time he said Faith I asked myself вАШFaithвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Faith what!вАЩ I couldnвАЩt remember the name of my fatherвАЩs head gardener.вАЭ + 

Sylvia, who was thinking of other things, asked: + 

вАЬWhat was the name?вАЭ + 

Tietjens answered: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt know, I donвАЩt know to this day.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The point is that when I knew that I didnвАЩt know that name, I was as ignorant, as uninstructed, as a newborn babe and much more worried about it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The Koran saysвБ†вАФIвАЩve got as far as K in my reading of the Encyclop√¶dia Britannica every afternoon at Mrs.¬†WannopвАЩsвБ†вАФвАШThe strong man when smitten is smitten in his pride!вАЩвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Of course I got KingвАЩs Regs, and the M.M.L. and Infantry Field Training and all the A.C.I.s to date by heart very quickly. And thatвАЩs all a British officer is really encouraged to knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, Christopher!вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬYou read that Encyclop√¶dia; itвАЩs pitiful. You used to despise it so.вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩs whatвАЩs meant by вАШsmitten in his pride,вАЩвАКвАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬOf course what I read or hear now I remember.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But I havenвАЩt got to M, much less V. That was why I was worried about Metternich and the Congress of Vienna. I try to remember things on my own, but I havenвАЩt yet done so. You see itвАЩs as if a certain area of my brain had been wiped white. Occasionally one name suggests another. You noticed, when I got Metternich it suggested Castlereagh and WellingtonвБ†вАФand even other names.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But thatвАЩs what the Department of Statistics will get me on. When they fire me out. The real reason will be that IвАЩve served. But theyвАЩll pretend itвАЩs because IвАЩve no more general knowledge than is to be found in the Encyclop√¶dia: or two-thirds or more or lessвБ†вАФaccording to the duration of the war.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Or, of course, the real reason will be that I wonвАЩt fake statistics to dish the French with. They asked me to, the other day, as a holiday task. And when I refused you should have seen their faces.вАЭ + 

вАЬHave you really,вАЭ Sylvia asked, вАЬlost two brothers in action?вАЭ + 

вАЬYes,вАЭ Tietjens answered. вАЬCurly and Longshanks. You never saw them because they were always in India. And they werenвАЩt noticeableвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬTwo!вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬI only wrote to your father about one called Edward. And your sister Caroline. In the same letter.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬCarrie wasnвАЩt noticeable either,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬShe did Charity Organisation Society work.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But I remember: you didnвАЩt like her. She was the born old maidвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬChristopher!вАЭ Sylvia asked, вАЬdo you still think your mother died of a broken heart because I left you?вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬGood God; no. I never thought so and I donвАЩt think so. I know she didnвАЩt.вАЭ + 

вАЬThen!вАЭ Sylvia exclaimed, вАЬshe died of a broken heart because I came back.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs no good protesting that you donвАЩt think so. I remember your face when you opened the telegram at Lobscheid. Miss Wannop forwarded it from Rye. I remember the postmark. She was born to do me ill. The moment you got it I could see you thinking that you must conceal from me that you thought it was because of me she died. I could see you wondering if it wouldnвАЩt be practicable to conceal from me that she was dead. You couldnвАЩt, of course, do that because, you remember, we were to have gone to Wiesbaden and show ourselves; and we couldnвАЩt do that because we should have to be in mourning. So you took me to Russia to get out of taking me to the funeral.вАЭ + 

вАЬI took you to Russia,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬI remember it all nowвБ†вАФbecause I had an order from Sir Robert Ingleby to assist the British Consul-General in preparing a Blue Book statistical table of the Government of Kiev.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It appeared to be the most industrially promising region in the world in those days. It isnвАЩt now, naturally. I shall never see back a penny of the money I put into it. I thought I was clever in those days.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And of course, yes, the money was my motherвАЩs settlement. It comes backвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ yes, of courseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬDid you,вАЭ Sylvia asked, вАЬget out of taking me to your motherвАЩs funeral because you thought I should defile your motherвАЩs corpse by my presence? Or because you were afraid that in the presence of your motherвАЩs body you wouldnвАЩt be able to conceal from me that you thought I killed her?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ DonвАЩt deny it. And donвАЩt get out of it by saying that you canвАЩt remember those days. YouвАЩre remembering now: that I killed your mother: that Miss Wannop sent the telegramвБ†вАФwhy donвАЩt you score it against her that she sent the news?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Or, good God, why donвАЩt you score it against yourself, as the wrath of the Almighty, that your mother was dying while you and that girl were croodling over each other?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ At Rye! Whilst I was at LobscheidвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens wiped his brow with his handkerchief. + 

вАЬWell, letвАЩs drop that,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬGod knows IвАЩve no right to put a spoke in that girlвАЩs wheel or in yours. If you love each other youвАЩve a right to happiness and I daresay sheвАЩll make you happy. I canвАЩt divorce you, being a Catholic; but I wonвАЩt make it difficult for you other ways, and self-contained people like you and her will manage somehow. YouвАЩll have learned the way from Macmaster and his mistress.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But, oh, Christopher Tietjens, have you ever considered how foully youвАЩve used me!вАЭ + 

Tietjens looked at her attentively, as if with magpie anguish. + 

вАЬIf,вАЭ Sylvia went on with her denunciation, вАЬyou had once in our lives said to me: вАШYou whore! You bitch! You killed my mother. May you rot in hell for itвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЩ If youвАЩd only once said something like itвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ about the child! About Perowne!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you might have done something to bring us togetherвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬThatвАЩs, of course, true!вАЭ + 

вАЬI know,вАЭ Sylvia said, вАЬyou canвАЩt help it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But when, in your famous county family prideвБ†вАФthough a youngest son!вБ†вАФyou say to yourself: And I daresay ifвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Oh, Christ!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ youвАЩre shot in the trenches youвАЩll say itвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, between the saddle and the ground! that you never did a dishonourable action.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And, mind you, I believe that no other man save one has ever had more right to say it than youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬYou believe that!вАЭ + 

вАЬAs I hope to stand before my Redeemer,вАЭ Sylvia said, вАЬI believe it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But, in the name of the Almighty, how could any woman live beside youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and be forever forgiven? Or no: not forgiven: ignored!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Well, be proud when you die because of your honour. But, God, you be humble aboutвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ your errors in judgment. You know what it is to ride a horse for miles with too tight a curb-chain and its tongue cut almost in half.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You remember the groom your father had who had the trick of turning the hunters out like that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And you horsewhipped him, and youвАЩve told me youвАЩve almost cried ever so often afterwards for thinking of that mareвАЩs mouth.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Well! Think of this mareвАЩs mouth sometimes! YouвАЩve ridden me like that for seven yearsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She stopped and then went on again: + 

вАЬDonвАЩt you know, Christopher Tietjens, that there is only one man from whom a woman could take вАШNeither I condemn theeвАЩ and not hate him more than she hates the fiend!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens so looked at her that he contrived to hold her attention. + 

вАЬIвАЩd like you to let me ask you,вАЭ he said, вАЬhow I could throw stones at you? I have never disapproved of your actions.вАЭ + 

Her hands dropped dispiritedly to her sides. + 

вАЬOh, Christopher,вАЭ she said, вАЬdonвАЩt carry on that old play acting. I shall never see you again, very likely, to speak to. YouвАЩll sleep with the Wannop girl tonight: youвАЩre going out to be killed tomorrow. LetвАЩs be straight for the next ten minutes or so. And give me your attention. The Wannop girl can spare that much if sheвАЩs to have all the restвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She could see that he was giving her his whole mind. + 

вАЬAs you said just now,вАЭ he exclaimed slowly, вАЬas I hope to meet my Redeemer I believe you to be a good woman. One that never did a dishonourable thing.вАЭ + 

She recoiled a little in her chair. + 

вАЬThen!вАЭ she said, вАЬyouвАЩre the wicked man IвАЩve always made believe to think you, though I didnвАЩt.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬNo!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Let me try to put it to you as I see it.вАЭ + 

She exclaimed: + 

вАЬNo!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩve been a wicked woman. I have ruined you. I am not going to listen to you.вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬI daresay you have ruined me. ThatвАЩs nothing to me. I am completely indifferent.вАЭ + 

She cried out: + 

вАЬOh! Oh!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Oh!вАЭ on a note of agony. + 

Tietjens said doggedly: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt care. I canвАЩt help it. Those areвБ†вАФthose should beвБ†вАФthe conditions of life amongst decent people. When our next war comes I hope it will be fought out under those conditions. Let us, for GodвАЩs sake, talk of the gallant enemy. Always. We have got to plunder the French or millions of our people must starve: they have got to resist us successfully or be wiped out.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs the same with you and meвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She exclaimed: + 

вАЬYou mean to say that you donвАЩt think I was wicked when IвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ when I вАШtrepannedвАЩ is what mother calls it?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He said loudly: + 

вАЬNo!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You had been let in for it by some brute. I have always held that a woman who has been let down by one man has the rightвБ†вАФhas the duty for the sake of her childвБ†вАФto let down a man. It becomes woman against man: against one man. I happened to be that one man: it was the will of God. But you were within your rights. I will never go back on that. Nothing will make me, ever!вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬAnd the others! And Perowne.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I know youвАЩll say that anyone is justified in doing anything as long as they are open enough about it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But it killed your mother. Do you disapprove of my having killed your mother? Or you consider that I have corrupted the childвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I want to speak to you about that.вАЭ + 

She exclaimed: + 

вАЬYou donвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He said calmly: + 

вАЬYou know I donвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ while I was certain that I was going to be here to keep him straight and an Anglican I fought your influence over him. IвАЩm obliged to you for having brought up of yourself the considerations that I may be killed and that I am ruined. I am. I could not raise a hundred pounds between now and tomorrow. I am, therefore, obviously not the man to have sole charge of the heir of Groby.вАЭ + 

Sylvia was saying: + 

вАЬEvery penny I have is at your disposalвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ when the maid, Hullo Central, marched up to her master and placed a card in his hand. He said: + 

вАЬTell him to wait five minutes in the drawing-room.вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬWho is it?вАЭ + 

Tietjens answered: + 

вАЬA man.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ LetвАЩs get this settled. IвАЩve never thought you corrupted the boy. You tried to teach him to tell white lies. On perfectly straight Papist lines. I have no objection to Papists and no objection to white lies for Papists. You told him once to put a frog in MarchantвАЩs bath. IвАЩve no objection to a boyвАЩs putting a frog in his nurseвАЩs bath, as such. But Marchant is an old woman, and the heir to Groby should respect old women always and old family servants in particular.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It hasnвАЩt, perhaps, struck you that the boy is heir to GrobyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬIfвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ if your second brother is killed.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But your eldest brotherвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬHe,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬhas got a French woman near Euston station. HeвАЩs lived with her for over fifteen years, of afternoons, when there were no race meetings. SheвАЩll never let him marry and sheвАЩs past the childbearing stage. So thereвАЩs no one elseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬYou mean that I may bring the child up as a Catholic.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬA Roman Catholic.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YouвАЩll teach him, please, to use that term before myself if I ever see him againвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬOh, I thank God that he has softened your heart. This will take the curse off this house.вАЭ + 

Tietjens shook his head: + 

вАЬI think not,вАЭ he said, вАЬoff you, perhaps. Off Groby very likely. It was, perhaps, time that there should be a Papist owner of Groby again. YouвАЩve read Spelden on sacrilege about Groby?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬYes! The first Tietjens who came over with Dutch William, the swine, was pretty bad to the Papist ownersвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬHe was a tough Dutchman,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬbut let us get on! ThereвАЩs enough time, but not too much.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩve got this man to see.вАЭ + 

вАЬWho is he?вАЭ Sylvia asked. + 

Tietjens was collecting his thoughts. + 

вАЬMy dear!вАЭ he said. вАЬYouвАЩll permit me to call you вАШmy dearвАЩ? WeвАЩre old enemies enough and weвАЩre talking about the future of our child.вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬYou said вАШourвАЩ child, not вАШtheвАЩ childвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said with a great deal of concern: + 

вАЬYou will forgive me for bringing it up. You might prefer to think he was DrakeвАЩs child. He canвАЩt be. It would be outside the course of nature.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩm as poor as I am becauseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ forgive meвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩve spent a great deal of money on tracing the movements of you and Drake before our marriage. And if itвАЩs a relief to you to knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬIt is,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬIвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩve always been too beastly shy to put the matter before a specialist, or even before mother.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And we women are so ignorantвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬI knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I know you were too shy even to think about it yourself, hard.вАЭ He went into months and days; then he continued: вАЬBut it would have made no difference: a child born in wedlock is by law the fatherвАЩs, and if a man whoвАЩs a gentleman suffers the begetting of his child he must, in decency, take the consequences: the woman and the child must come before the man, be he who he may. And worse-begotten children than ours have inherited statelier names. And I loved the little beggar with all my heart and with all my soul from the first minute I saw him. That may be the secret clue, or it may be sheer sentimentality.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ So I fought your influence because it was Papist, while I was a whole man. But IвАЩm not a whole man any more, and the evil eye that is on me might transfer itself to him.вАЭ + 

He stopped and said: + 

вАЬFor I must to the greenwood go. Alone a banished man.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But have him well protected against the evil eyeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, Christopher,вАЭ she said, вАЬitвАЩs true IвАЩve not been a bad woman to the child. And I never will be. And I will keep Marchant with him till she dies. YouвАЩll tell her not to interfere with his religious instruction, and she wonвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said with a friendly weariness: + 

вАЬThatвАЩs rightвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and youвАЩll have FatherвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ FatherвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the priest that was with us for a fortnight before he was born to give him his teachings. He was the best man I ever met and one of the most intelligent. ItвАЩs been a great comfort to me to think of the boy as in his handsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia stood up, her eyes blazing out of a pallid face of stone: + 

вАЬFather Consett,вАЭ she said, вАЬwas hung on the day they shot Casement. They dare not put it into the papers because he was a priest and all the witnesses Ulster witnesses.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And yet I may not say this is an accursed war.вАЭ + 

Tietjens shook his head with the slow heaviness of an aged man. + 

вАЬYou may for meвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ he said. вАЬYou might ring the bell, will you? DonвАЩt go awayвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He sat with the blue gloom of that enclosed space all over him, lumped heavily in his chair. + 

вАЬSpelden on sacrilege,вАЭ he said, вАЬmay be right after all. YouвАЩd say so from the Tietjenses. ThereвАЩs not been a Tietjens since the first Lord Justice cheated the Papist Loundeses out of Roby, but died of a broken neck or of a broken heart: for all the fifteen thousand acres of good farming land and iron land, and for all the heather on the top of it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ WhatвАЩs the quotation: вАШBe ye something as something and something and ye shall not escape.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЩ What is it?вАЭ + 

вАЬCalumny!вАЭ Sylvia said. She spoke with intense bitterness.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬChaste as ice and cold asвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ as you areвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬYes! Yes!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And mind you none of the Tietjens were ever soft. Not one! They had reason for their broken hearts.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Take my poor fatherвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬDonвАЩt!вАЭ + 

вАЬBoth my brothers were killed in Indian regiments on the same day and not a mile apart. And my sister in the same week: out at sea, not so far from them.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Unnoticeable people. But one can be fond of unnoticeable peopleвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Hullo Central was at the door. Tietjens told her to ask Lord Port Scatho to step down.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

вАЬYou must, of course, know these details,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬas the mother to my fatherвАЩs heir.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ My father got the three notifications on the same day. It was enough to break his heart. He only lived a month. I saw himвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia screamed piercingly: + 

вАЬStop! stop! stop!вАЭ She clutched at the mantelpiece to hold herself up. вАЬYour father died of a broken heart,вАЭ she said, вАЬbecause your brotherвАЩs best friend, Ruggles, told him you were a squit who lived on womenвАЩs money and had got the daughter of his oldest friend with childвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬOh! Ah! Yes!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I suspected that. I know it, really. I suppose the poor dear knows better now. Or perhaps he doesnвАЩt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It doesnвАЩt matter.вАЭ + 