Part + 

II + 

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 + 

II + 

It has been remarked that the peculiarly English habit of self-suppression in matters of the emotions puts the Englishman at a great disadvantage in moments of unusual stresses. In the smaller matters of the general run of life he will be impeccable and not to be moved; but in sudden confrontations of anything but physical dangers he is aptвБ†вАФhe is, indeed almost certainвБ†вАФto go to pieces very badly. This, at least, was the view of Christopher Tietjens, and he very much dreaded his interview with Lord Port ScathoвБ†вАФbecause he feared that he must be near breaking point. + 

In electing to be peculiarly English in habits and in as much of his temperament as he could controlвБ†вАФfor, though no man can choose the land of his birth or his ancestry, he can, if he have industry and determination, so watch over himself as materially to modify his automatic habitsвБ†вАФTietjens had quite advisedly and of set purpose adopted a habit of behaviour that he considered to be the best in the world for the normal life. If every day and all day long you chatter at high pitch and with the logic and lucidity of the Frenchman; if you shout in self-assertion, with your hat on your stomach, bowing from a stiff spine and by implication threaten all day long to shoot your interlocutor, like the Prussian; if you are as lachrymally emotional as the Italian, or as drily and epigramatically imbecile over inessentials as the American, you will have a noisy, troublesome and thoughtless society without any of the surface calm that should distinguish the atmosphere of men when they are together. You will never have deep armchairs in which to sit for hours in clubs thinking of nothing at allвБ†вАФor of the off-theory in bowling. On the other hand, in the face of deathвБ†вАФexcept at sea, by fire, railway accident or accidental drowning in rivers; in the face of madness, passion, dishonour orвБ†вАФand particularlyвБ†вАФprolonged mental strain, you will have all the disadvantage of the beginner at any game and may come off very badly indeed. Fortunately death, love, public dishonour and the like are rare occurrences in the life of the average man, so that the great advantage would seem to have lain with English society; at any rate before the later months of the year 1914. Death for man came but once: the danger of death so seldom as to be practically negligible: love of a distracting kind was a disease merely of the weak: public dishonour for persons of position, so great was the hushing up power of the ruling class, and the power of absorption of the remoter Colonies, was practically unknown. + 

Tietjens found himself now faced by all these things, coming upon him cumulatively and rather suddenly, and he had before him an interview that might cover them all and with a man whom he much respected and very much desired not to hurt. He had to face these, moreover, with a brain two-thirds of which felt numb. It was exactly like that. + 

It was not so much that he couldnвАЩt use what brain he had as trenchantly as ever: it was that there were whole regions of fact upon which he could no longer call in support of his argument. His knowledge of history was still practically negligible: he knew nothing whatever of the humaner letters and, what was far worse, nothing at all of the higher and more sensuous phases of mathematics. And the comings back of these things was much slower than he had confessed to Sylvia. It was with these disadvantages that he had to face Lord Port Scatho. + 

Lord Port Scatho was the first man of whom Sylvia Tietjens had thought when she had been considering of men who were absolutely honourable, entirely benevolentвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and rather lacking in constructive intelligence. He had inherited the management of one of the most respected of the great London banks, so that his commercial and social influences were very extended: he was extremely interested in promoting Low Church interests, the reform of the divorce laws and sports for the people, and he had a great affection for Sylvia Tietjens. He was forty-five, beginning to put on weight, but by no means obese; he had a large, quite round head, very high-coloured cheeks that shone as if with frequent ablutions, an uncropped, dark moustache, dark, very cropped, smooth hair, brown eyes, a very new grey tweed suit, a very new grey Trilby hat, a black tie in a gold ring and very new patent leather boots that had white calf tops. He had a wife almost the spit of himself in face, figure, probity, kindliness and interests, except that for his interest in sports for the people she substituted that for maternity hospitals. His heir was his nephew, Mr.¬†Brownlie, known as Brownie, who would also be physically the exact spit of his uncle, except that, not having put on flesh, he appeared to be taller and that his moustache and hair were both a little longer and more fair. This gentleman entertained for Sylvia Tietjens a gloomy and deep passion that he considered to be perfectly honourable because he desired to marry her after she had divorced her husband. Tietjens he desired to ruin because he wished to marry Mrs.¬†Tietjens and partly because he considered Tietjens to be an undesirable person of no great means. Of this passion Lord Port Scatho was ignorant. + 

He now came into the TietjensвАЩ dining-room, behind the servant, holding an open letter: he walked rather stiffly because he was very much worried. He observed that Sylvia had been crying and was still wiping her eyes. He looked round the room to see if he could see in it anything to account for SylviaвАЩs crying. Tietjens was still sitting at the head of the lunch-table: Sylvia was rising from a chair beside the fireplace. + 

Lord Port Scatho said: + 

вАЬI want to see you, Tietjens, for a minute on business.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬI can give you ten minutesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Lord Port Scatho said: + 

вАЬMrs.¬†Tietjens perhapsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He waved the open letter towards Mrs.¬†Tietjens. Tietjens said: + 

вАЬNo! Mrs.¬†Tietjens will remain.вАЭ He desired to say something more friendly. He said: вАЬSit down.вАЭ + 

Lord Port Scatho said: + 

вАЬI shanвАЩt be stopping a minute. But reallyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ and he moved the letter, but not with so wide a gesture, towards Sylvia. + 

вАЬI have no secrets from Mrs.¬†Tietjens,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬAbsolutely noneвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Lord Port Scatho said: + 

вАЬвА¶¬†No, of course notвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ButвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬSimilarly, Mrs.¬†Tietjens has no secrets from me. Again absolutely none.вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt, of course, tell Tietjens about my maidвАЩs love affairs or what the fish costs every day.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬYouвАЩd better sit down.вАЭ He added on an impulse of kindness: вАЬAs a matter of fact I was just clearing up things for Sylvia to take overвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ this command.вАЭ It was part of the disagreeableness of his mental disadvantages that upon occasion he could not think of other than military phrases. He felt intense annoyance. Lord Port Scatho affected him with some of the slight nausea that in those days you felt at contact with the civilian who knew none of your thoughts, phrases or preoccupations. He added, nevertheless equably: + 

вАЬOne has to clear up. IвАЩm going out.вАЭ + 

Lord Port Scatho said hastily: + 

вАЬYes; yes. I wonвАЩt keep you. One has so many engagements in spite of the warвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His eyes wandered in bewilderment. Tietjens could see them at last fixing themselves on the oil stains that SylviaвАЩs salad dressing had left on his collar and green tabs. He said to himself that he must remember to change his tunic before he went to the War Office. He must not forget. Lord Port ScathoвАЩs bewilderment at these oil stains was such that he lost himself in the desire to account for them.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You could see the slow thoughts moving inside his square, polished brown forehead. Tietjens wanted very much to help him. He wanted to say: вАЬItвАЩs about SylviaвАЩs letter that youвАЩve got in your hand, isnвАЩt it?вАЭ But Lord Port Scatho had entered the room with the stiffness, with the odd, high-collared sort of gait that on formal and unpleasant occasions Englishmen use when they approach each other; braced up, a little like strange dogs meeting in the street. In view of that, Tietjens couldnвАЩt say вАЬSylvia.вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But it would add to the formality with unpleasantness if he said again вАЬMrs.¬†Tietjens!вАЭ That wouldnвАЩt help Port Scatho.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Sylvia said suddenly: + 

вАЬYou donвАЩt understand, apparently. My husband is going out to the front line. Tomorrow morning. ItвАЩs for the second time.вАЭ + 

Lord Port Scatho sat down suddenly on a chair beside the table. With his fresh face and brown eyes suddenly anguished he exclaimed: + 

вАЬBut, my dear fellow! You! Good God!вАЭ and then to Sylvia: вАЬI beg your pardon!вАЭ To clear his mind he said again to Tietjens: вАЬYou! Going out tomorrow!вАЭ And, when the idea was really there, his face suddenly cleared. He looked with a swift, averted glance at SylviaвАЩs face and then for a fixed moment at TietjensвАЩ oil-stained tunic. Tietjens could see him explaining to himself with immense enlightenment that that explained both SylviaвАЩs tears and the oil on the tunic. For Port Scatho might well imagine that officers went to the conflict in their oldest clothes.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

But, if his puzzled brain cleared, his distressed mind became suddenly distressed doubly. He had to add to the distress he had felt on entering the room and finding himself in the midst of what he took to be a highly emotional family parting. And Tietjens knew that during the whole war Port Scatho had never witnessed a family parting at all. Those that were not inevitable he would avoid like the plague, and his own nephew and all his wifeвАЩs nephews were in the bank. That was quite proper for, if the ennobled family of Brownlie were not of the Ruling ClassвБ†вАФwho had to go!вБ†вАФthey were of the Administrative Class, who were privileged to stay. So he had seen no partings. + 

Of his embarrassed hatred of them he gave immediate evidence. For he first began several sentences of praise of TietjensвАЩ heroism which he was unable to finish and then getting quickly out of his chair exclaimed: + 

вАЬIn the circumstances thenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the little matter I came aboutвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I couldnвАЩt of course thinkвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬNo; donвАЩt go. The matter you came aboutвБ†вАФI know all about it of courseвБ†вАФhad better be settled.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho sat down again: his jaw fell slowly: under his bronzed complexion his skin became a shade paler. He said at last: + 

вАЬYou know what I came about? But thenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

His ingenuous and kindly mind could be seen to be working with reluctance: his athletic figure drooped. He pushed the letter that he still held along the tablecloth towards Tietjens. He said, in the voice of one awaiting a reprieve: + 

вАЬBut you canвАЩt beвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ awareвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Not of this letterвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens left the letter on the cloth; from there he could read the large handwriting on the blue-grey paper: + 

вАЬMrs.¬†Christopher Tietjens presents her compliments to Lord Port Scatho and the Honourable Court of Benchers of the InnвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He wondered where Sylvia had got hold of that phraseology: he imagined it to be fantastically wrong. He said: + 

вАЬI have already told you that I know about this letter, as I have already told you that I knowвБ†вАФand I will add that I approve!вБ†вАФof all Mrs.¬†TietjensвАЩ actionsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ With his hard blue eyes he looked brow-beatingly into Port ScathoвАЩs soft brown orbs, knowing that he was sending the message: вАЬThink what you please and be damned to you!вАЭ + 

The gentle brown things remained on his face; then they filled with an expression of deep pain. Port Scatho cried: + 

вАЬBut good God! ThenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He looked at Tietjens again. His mind, which took refuge from life in the affairs of the Low Church, of Divorce Law Reform and of Sports for the People, became a sea of pain at the contemplation of strong situations. His eyes said: + 

вАЬFor heavenвАЩs sake do not tell me that Mrs.¬†Duchemin, the mistress of your dearest friend, is the mistress of yourself, and that you take this means of wreaking a vulgar spite on them.вАЭ + 

Tietjens, leaning heavily forward, made his eyes as enigmatic as he could; he said very slowly and very clearly: + 

вАЬMrs.¬†Tietjens is, of course, not aware of all the circumstances.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho threw himself back in his chair. + 

вАЬI donвАЩt understand!вАЭ he said. вАЬI do not understand. How am I to act? You do not wish me to act on this letter? You canвАЩt!вАЭ + 

Tietjens, who found himself, said: + 

вАЬYou had better talk to Mrs.¬†Tietjens about that. I will say something myself later. In the meantime let me say that Mrs.¬†Tietjens would seem to me to be quite within her rights. A lady, heavily veiled, comes here every Friday and remains until four of the Saturday morning.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If you are prepared to palliate the proceeding you had better do so to Mrs.¬†TietjensвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Port Scatho turned agitatedly on Sylvia. + 

вАЬI canвАЩt, of course, palliate,вАЭ he said. вАЬGod forbid.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But, my dear SylviaвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ my dear Mrs.¬†Tietjens.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ In the case of two people so much esteemed!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ We have, of course, argued the matter of principle. It is a part of a subject I have very much at heart: the granting of divorceвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ civil divorce, at leastвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ in cases in which one of the parties to the marriage is in a lunatic asylum. I have sent you the pamphlets of E. S. P. Haynes that we publish. I know that as a Roman Catholic you hold strong views.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I do not, I assure you, stand for latitudeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He became then simply eloquent: he really had the matter at heart, one of his sisters having been for many years married to a lunatic. He expatiated on the agonies of the situation all the more eloquently in that it was the only form of human distress which he had personally witnessed. + 

Sylvia took a long look at Tietjens: he imagined for counsel. He looked at her steadily for a moment, then at Port Scatho, who was earnestly turned to her, then back at her. He was trying to say: + 

вАЬListen to Port Scatho for a minute. I need time to think of my course of action!вАЭ + 

He needed, for the first time in his life, time to think of his course of action. + 

He had been thinking with his under mind ever since Sylvia had told him that she had written her letter to the benchers denouncing Macmaster and his woman; ever since Sylvia had reminded him that Mrs.¬†Duchemin in the Edinburgh to London express of the day before the war had been in his arms, he had seen with extraordinary clearness a great many north country scenes though he could not affix names to all the places. The forgetfulness of the names was abnormal: he ought to know the names of places from Berwick down to the vale of YorkвБ†вАФbut that he should have forgotten the incidents was normal enough. They had been of little importance: he preferred not to remember the phases of his friendвАЩs love affair; moreover, the events that happened immediately afterwards had been of a nature to make one forget quite normally what had just preceded them. That Mrs.¬†Duchemin should be sobbing on his shoulder in a locked corridor carriage hadnвАЩt struck him as in the least important: she was the mistress of his dearest friend; she had had a very trying time for a week or so, ending in a violent, nervous quarrel with her agitated lover. She was, of course, crying off the effects of the quarrel which had been all the more shaking in that Mrs.¬†Duchemin, like himself, had always been almost too self-contained. As a matter of fact he did not himself like Mrs.¬†Duchemin, and he was pretty certain that she herself more than a little disliked him; so that nothing but their common feeling for Macmaster had brought them together. General Campion, however, was not to know that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He had looked into the carriage in the way one does in a corridor just after the train had left.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He couldnвАЩt remember the name.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ DoncasterвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Darlington; it wasnвАЩt that. At Darlington there was a model of the RocketвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ or perhaps it isnвАЩt the Rocket. An immense clumsy leviathan of a locomotive byвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ byвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The great gloomy stations of the north-going trainsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ DurhamвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No! Alnwick.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Wooler.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ By God! Wooler! The junction for BamboroughвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

It had been in one of the castles at Bamborough that he and Sylvia had been staying with the Sandbachs. ThenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a name had come into his mind spontaneously!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Two names!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was, perhaps, the turn of the tide! For the first timeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ To be marked with a red stoneвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ after this: some names, sometimes, on the tip of the tongue, might come over! He had, however, to get on.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

The Sandbachs, then, and he and SylviaвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ others tooвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ had been in Bamborough since mid-July: Eton and Harrow at LordвАЩs, waiting for the real house parties that would come with the 12th.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He repeated these names and dates to himself for the personal satisfaction of knowing that, amongst the repairs effected in his mind, these two remained: Eton and Harrow, the end of the London season: 12th of August, grouse shooting begins.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was pitiful.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

When General Campion had come up to rejoin his sister he, Tietjens, had stopped only two days. The coolness between the two of them remained; it was the first time they had met, except in Court, after the accident.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ For Mrs.¬†Wannop, with grim determination, had sued the General for the loss of her horse. It had lived all rightвБ†вАФbut it was only fit to draw a lawnmower for cricket pitches.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Mrs.¬†Wannop, then, had gone bald-headed for the General, partly because she wanted the money, partly because she wanted a public reason for breaking with the Sandbachs. The General had been equally obstinate and had undoubtedly perjured himself in Court: not the best, not the most honourable, the most benevolent man in the world would not turn oppressor of the widow and orphan when his efficiency as a chauffeur was impugned or the fact brought to light that at a very dangerous turning he hadnвАЩt sounded his horn. Tietjens had sworn that he hadnвАЩt: the General that he had. There could not be any question of doubt, for the horn was a beastly thing that made a prolonged noise like that of a terrified peacock.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ So Tietjens had not, till the end of that July, met the General again. It had been quite a proper thing for gentlemen to quarrel over and was quite convenient, though it had cost the General fifty pounds for the horse and, of course, a good bit over for costs. Lady Claudine had refused to interfere in the matter: she was privately of opinion that the General hadnвАЩt sounded his horn, but the General was both a passionately devoted and explosive brother. She had remained closely intimate with Sylvia, mildly cordial with Tietjens and had continued to ask the Wannops to such of her garden parties as the General did not attend. She was also very friendly with Mrs.¬†Duchemin. + 

Tietjens and the General had met with the restrained cordiality of English gentlemen who had some years before accused each other of perjury in a motor accident. On the second morning a violent quarrel had broken out between them on the subject of whether the General had or hadnвАЩt sounded his horn. The General had ended up by shoutingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ really shouting: + 

вАЬBy God! If I ever get you under my commandвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens remembered that he had quoted and given the number of a succinct paragraph in KingвАЩs Regs. dealing with the fate of general or higher field officers who gave their subordinates bad confidential reports because of private quarrels. The General had exploded into noises that ended in laughter. + 

вАЬWhat a ragbag of a mind you have, Chrissie!вАЭ he said. вАЬWhatвАЩs KingвАЩs Regs. to you? And how do you know itвАЩs paragraph 66 or whatever you say it is? I donвАЩt.вАЭ He added more seriously: вАЬWhat a fellow you are for getting into obscure rows! What in the world do you do it for?вАЭ + 

That afternoon Tietjens had gone to stop, a long way up in the moors, with his son, the nurse, his sister Effie and her children. They were the last days of happiness he was to know and he hadnвАЩt known so many. He was then content. He played with his boy, who, thank God, was beginning to grow healthy at last. He walked about the moors with his sister Effie, a large, plain, parsonвАЩs wife, who had no conversation at all, though at times they talked of their mother. The moors were like enough to those above Groby to make them happy. They lived in a bare, grim farmhouse, drank great quantities of buttermilk and ate great quantities of Wensleydale. It was the hard, frugal life of his desire and his mind was at rest. + 

His mind was at rest because there was going to be a war. From the first moment of his reading the paragraph about the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand he had known that, calmly and with assurance. Had he imagined that this country would come in he would not have known a mind at rest. He loved this country for the run of its hills, the shape of its elm trees and the way the heather, running uphill to the skyline, meets the blue of the heavens. War for this country could only mean humiliation, spreading under the sunlight, an almost invisible pall, over the elms, the hills, the heather, like the vapour that spread fromвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, Middlesbrough! We were fitted neither for defeat nor for victory: we could be true to neither friend nor foe. Not even to ourselves! + 

But of war for us he had no fear. He saw our Ministry sitting tight till the opportune moment and then grabbing a French channel port or a few German colonies as the price of neutrality. And he was thankful to be out of it; for his back-doorway outвБ†вАФhis second!вБ†вАФwas the French Foreign Legion. First Sylvia: then that! Two tremendous disciplines: for the soul and for the body. + 

The French he admired: for their tremendous efficiency, for their frugality of life, for the logic of their minds, for their admirable achievements in the arts, for their neglect of the industrial system, for their devotion, above all, to the eighteenth century. It would be restful to serve, if only as a slave, people who saw clearly, coldly, straight: not obliquely and with hypocrisy only such things as should deviously conduce to the standard of comfort of hogs and to lecheries winked at.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He would rather sit for hours on a bench in a barrack-room polishing a badge in preparation for the cruellest of route marches of immense lengths under the Algerian sun. + 

For, as to the Foreign Legion, he had had no illusion. You were treated not as a hero, but as a whipped dog; he was aware of all the asticoteries, the cruelties, the weight of the rifle, the cells. You would have six months of training in the desert and then be hurtled into the line to be massacred without remorseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ as foreign dirt. But the prospect seemed to him one of deep peace: he had never asked for soft living and now was done with it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The boy was healthy; Sylvia, with the economies they had made, very richвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and even at that date he was sure that, if the friction of himself, Tietjens, were removed, she would make a good mother.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Obviously he might survive; but after that tremendous physical drilling what survived would not be himself, but a man with cleaned, sand-dried bones: a clear mind. His private ambition had always been for saintliness: he must be able to touch pitch and not be defiled. That he knew marked him off as belonging to the sentimental branch of humanity. He couldnвАЩt help it: Stoic or Epicurean: Caliph in the harem or Dervish desiccating in the sand: one or the other you must be. And his desire was to be a saint of the Anglican varietyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ as his mother had been, without convent, ritual, vows, or miracles to be performed by your relics! That sainthood, truly, the Foreign Legion might give you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The desire of every English gentleman from Colonel Hutchinson upwards.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A mysticism.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Remembering the clear sunlight of those naivetesвБ†вАФthough in his blue gloom he had abated no jot of the ambitionвБ†вАФTietjens sighed deeply as he came back for a moment to regard his dining-room. Really, it was to see how much time he had left in which to think out what to say to Port Scatho.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Port Scatho had moved his chair over to beside Sylvia and, almost touching her, was leaning over and recounting the griefs of his sister who was married to a lunatic. Tietjens gave himself again for a moment to the luxury of self-pity. He considered that he was dull-minded, heavy, ruined, and so calumniated that at times he believed in his own infamy, for it is impossible to stand up forever against the obloquy of your kind and remain unhurt in the mind. If you hunch your shoulders too long against a storm your shoulders will grow bowed.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

His mind stopped for a moment and his eyes gazed dully at SylviaвАЩs letter which lay open on the tablecloth. His thoughts came together, converging on the loosely-written words: + 

вАЬFor the last nine months a womanвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He wondered swiftly what he had already said to Port Scatho: only that he had known of his wifeвАЩs letter; not when! And that he approved! Well, on principle! He sat up. To think that one could be brought down to thinking so slowly! + 

He ran swiftly over what had happened in the train from Scotland and before.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Macmaster had turned up one morning beside their breakfast table in the farm house, much agitated, looking altogether too small in a cloth cap and a new grey tweed suit. He had wanted ¬£50 to pay his bill with: at some place up the line aboveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ aboveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Berwick suddenly flashed into TietjensвАЩ mindвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

That was the geographic position. Sylvia was at Bamborough on the coast (junction Wooler); he, himself, to the northwest, on the moors. Macmaster to the northeast of him, just over the border: in some circumspect beauty spot where you did not meet people. Both Macmaster and Mrs.¬†Duchemin would know that country and gurgle over its beastly literary associations.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The Shirra! Maida! Pet MarjorieвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Faugh! Macmaster would, no doubt, turn an honest penny by writing articles about it and Mrs.¬†Duchemin would hold his hand.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

She had become MacmasterвАЩs mistress, as far as Tietjens knew, after a dreadful scene in the rectory, Duchemin having mauled his wife like a savage dog, and Macmaster in the house.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was natural: a Sadix reaction as it were. But Tietjens rather wished they hadnвАЩt. Now it appeared they had been spending a week togetherвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ or more. Duchemin by that time was in an asylum.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

From what Tietjens had made out they had got out of bed early one morning to take a boat and see the sunrise on some lake and had passed an agreeable day together quoting, вАЬSince when we stand side by side only hands may meetвАЭ and other poems of Gabriel Charles Dante Rossetti, no doubt to justify their sin. On coming home they had run their boatвАЩs nose into the tea-table of the Port Scathos with Mr.¬†Brownlie, the nephew, just getting out of a motor to join them. The Port Scatho group were spending the night at the MacmastersвАЩ hotel which backed on to the lake. It was the ordinary damn sort of thing that must happen in these islands that are only a few yards across. + 

The Macmasters appear to have lost their heads frightfully, although Lady Port Scatho had been as motherly as possible to Mrs.¬†Duchemin; so motherly, indeed, that if they had not been unable to observe anything, they might have recognised the Port Scathos as backers rather than spies upon themselves. It was, no doubt, however, Brownlie who had upset them: he wasnвАЩt very civil to Macmaster, whom he knew as a friend of Tietjens. He had dashed up from London in his motor to consult his uncle, who was dashing down from the west of Scotland, about the policy of the bank in that moment of crisis.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Macmaster, anyhow, did not spend the night in the hotel, but went to Jedburgh or Melrose or some such place, turning up again almost before it was light to have a frightful interview about five in the morning with Mrs.¬†Duchemin, who, towards three, had come to a disastrous conclusion as to her condition. They had lost their nerves for the first time in their association, and they had lost them very badly indeed, the things that Mrs.¬†Duchemin said to Macmaster seeming almost to have passed belief.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Thus, when Macmaster turned up at TietjensвАЩ breakfast, he was almost out of his mind. He wanted Tietjens to go over in the motor he had brought, pay the bill at the hotel, and travel down to town with Mrs.¬†Duchemin, who was certainly in no condition to travel alone. Tietjens was also to make up the quarrel with Mrs.¬†Duchemin and to lend Macmaster ¬£50 in cash, as it was then impossible to change cheques anywhere. Tietjens got the money from his old nurse, who, because she distrusted banks, carried great sums in ¬£5 notes in a pocket under her under-petticoat. + 

Macmaster, pocketing the money, had said: + 

вАЬThat makes exactly two thousand guineas that I owe you. IвАЩm making arrangements to repay you next week.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens remembered that he had rather stiffened and had said: вАЬFor GodвАЩs sake donвАЩt. I beg you not to. Have Duchemin properly put under trustees in lunacy, and leave his capital alone. I really beg you. You donвАЩt know what youвАЩll be letting yourselves in for. You donвАЩt owe me anything and you can always draw on me.вАЭ + 

Tietjens never knew what Mrs.¬†Duchemin had done about her husbandвАЩs estate over which she had at that date had a power of attorney; but he had imagined that, from that time on, Macmaster had felt a certain coldness for himself and that Mrs.¬†Duchemin had hated him. During several years Macmaster had been borrowing hundreds at a time from Tietjens. The affair with Mrs.¬†Duchemin had cost her lover a good deal: he had weekended almost continuously in Rye at the expensive hostel. Moreover, the famous Friday parties for geniuses had been going on for several years now, and these had meant new furnishings, bindings, carpets, and loans to geniusesвБ†вАФat any rate before Macmaster had had the ear of the Royal Bounty. So the sum had grown to ¬£2,000, and now to guineas. And, from that date, the Macmasters had not offered any repayment. + 

Macmaster had said that he dare not travel with Mrs.¬†Duchemin because all London would be going south by that train. All London had. It pushed in at every conceivable and inconceivable station all down the lineвБ†вАФit was the great rout of the 3вБ†вАУвБ†8вБ†вАУвБ†14. Tietjens had got on board at Berwick, where they were adding extra coaches, and by giving a ¬£5 note to the guard, who hadnвАЩt been able to promise isolation for any distance, had got a locked carriage. It hadnвАЩt remained locked for long enough to let Mrs.¬†Duchemin have her cry outвБ†вАФbut it had apparently served to make some mischief. The Sandbach party had got on, no doubt at Wooler; the Port Scatho party somewhere else. Their petrol had run out somewhere and sales were stopped, even to bankers. Macmaster, who after all had travelled by the same train, hidden beneath two bluejackets, had picked up Mrs.¬†Duchemin at KingвАЩs Cross and that had seemed the end of it. + 

Tietjens, back in his dining-room, felt relief and also anger. He said: + 

вАЬPort Scatho. TimeвАЩs getting short. IвАЩd like to deal with this letter if you donвАЩt mind.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho came as if up out of a dream. He had found the process of attempting to convert Mrs.¬†Tietjens to divorce law reform very pleasantвБ†вАФas he always did. He said: + 

вАЬYes!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Oh, yes!вАЭ + 

Tietjens said slowly: + 

вАЬIf you can listen.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Macmaster has been married to Mrs.¬†Duchemin exactly nine months.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Have you got that? Mrs.¬†Tietjens did not know this till this afternoon. The period Mrs.¬†Tietjens complains of in her letter is nine months. She did perfectly right to write the letter. As such I approve of it. If she had known that the Macmasters were married she would not have written it. I didnвАЩt know she was going to write it. If I had known she was going to write it I should have requested her not to. If I had requested her not to she would, no doubt, have done so. I did know of the letter at the moment of your coming in. I had heard of it at lunch only ten minutes before. I should, no doubt, have heard of it before, but this is the first time I have lunched at home in four months. I have today had a dayвАЩs leave as being warned for foreign service. I have been doing duty at Ealing. Today is the first opportunity I have had for serious business conversation with Mrs.¬†Tietjens.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Have you got all that?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Port Scatho was running towards Tietjens, his hand extended, and over his whole shining personage the air of an enraptured bridegroom. Tietjens moved his right hand a little to the right, thus eluding the pink, well-fleshed hand of Port Scatho. He went on frigidly: + 

вАЬYou had better, in addition, know as follows: The late Mr.¬†Duchemin was a scatologicalвБ†вАФafterwards a homicidalвБ†вАФlunatic. He had recurrent fits, usually on a Saturday morning. That was because he fastedвБ†вАФnot abstained merelyвБ†вАФon Fridays. On Fridays he also drank. He had acquired the craving for drink when fasting, from finishing the sacramental wine after communion services. That is a not unknown occurrence. He behaved latterly with great physical violence to Mrs.¬†Duchemin. Mrs.¬†Duchemin, on the other hand, treated him with the utmost consideration and concern: she might have had him certified much earlier, but, considering the pain that confinement must cause him during his lucid intervals, she refrained. I have been an eyewitness of the most excruciating heroisms on her part. As for the behaviour of Macmaster and Mrs.¬†Duchemin, I am ready to certifyвБ†вАФand I believe society acceptsвБ†вАФthat it has been mostвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, circumspect and right!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ There has been no secret of their attachment to each other. I believe that their determination to behave with decency during their period of waiting has not been questioned.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Lord Port Scatho said: + 

вАЬNo! no! NeverвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ MostвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ as you sayвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ circumspect and, yesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ right!вАЭ + 

вАЬMrs.¬†Duchemin,вАЭ Tietjens continued, вАЬhas presided at MacmasterвАЩs literary Fridays for a long time; of course since long before they were married. But, as you know, MacmasterвАЩs Fridays have been perfectly open: you might almost call them celebrated.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Lord Port Scatho said: + 

вАЬYes! yes! indeedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I shвАЩd be only too glad to have a ticket for Lady Port ScathoвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬSheвАЩs only got to walk in,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬIвАЩll warn them: theyвАЩll be pleased.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If, perhaps, you would look in tonight! They have a special party.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But Mrs.¬†Macmaster was always attended by a young lady who saw her off by the last train to Rye. Or I very frequently saw her off myself, Macmaster being occupied by the weekly article that he wrote for one of the papers on Friday nights.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ They were married on the day after Mr.¬†DucheminвАЩs funeral.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYou canвАЩt blame вАЩem!вАЭ Lord Port Scatho proclaimed. + 

вАЬI donвАЩt propose to,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬThe really frightful tortures Mrs.¬†Duchemin had suffered justifiedвБ†вАФand indeed necessitatedвБ†вАФher finding protection and sympathy at the earliest possible moment. They have deferred this announcement of their union partly out of respect for the usual period of mourning, partly because Mrs.¬†Duchemin feels very strongly that, with all the suffering that is now abroad, wedding feasts and signs of rejoicing on the part of nonparticipants are eminently to be deprecated. Still, the little party of tonight is by way of being an announcement that they are married.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He paused to reflect for a moment. + 

вАЬI perfectly understand!вАЭ Lord Port Scatho exclaimed. вАЬI perfectly approve. Believe me, I and Lady Port Scatho will do everything.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Everything!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Most admirable people.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Tietjens, my dear fellow, your behaviourвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ most handsome.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬWait a minuteвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ There was an occasion in August, вАЩ14. In a place on the border. I canвАЩt remember the name.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Lord Port Scatho burst out: + 

вАЬMy dear fellowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I beg you wonвАЩt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I beseech you not toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens went on: + 

вАЬJust before then Mr.¬†Duchemin had made an attack on his wife of an unparalleled violence. It was that that caused his final incarceration. She was not only temporarily disfigured, but she suffered serious internal injuries and, of course, great mental disturbance. It was absolutely necessary that she should have change of scene.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But I think you will bear me out that, in that case, too, their behaviour wasвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ again, circumspect and right.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Port Scatho said: + 

вАЬI know; I knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Lady Port Scatho and I agreedвБ†вАФeven without knowing what you have just told meвБ†вАФthat the poor things almost exaggerated it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He slept, of course, at Jedburgh?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬYes! They almost exaggerated it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I had to be called in to take Mrs.¬†Duchemin home.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It caused, apparently, misunderstandings.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Port ScathoвБ†вАФfull of enthusiasm at the thought that at least two unhappy victims of the hateful divorce laws had, with decency and circumspectness, found the haven of their desiresвБ†вАФburst out: + 

вАЬBy God, Tietjens, if I ever hear a man say a word against you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Your splendid championship of your friend.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YourвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ your unswerving devotionвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬWait a minute, Port Scatho, will you?вАЭ He was unbuttoning the flap of his breast pocket. + 

вАЬA man who can act so splendidly in one instance,вАЭ Port Scatho said.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬAnd your going to France.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If anyoneвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ if anyoneвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ daresвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

At the sight of a vellum-cornered, green-edged book in TietjensвАЩ hand Sylvia suddenly stood up; as Tietjens took from an inner flap a cheque that had lost its freshness she made three great strides over the carpet to him. + 

вАЬOh, Chrissie!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ she cried out. вАЬHe hasnвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ That beast hasnвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens answered: + 

вАЬHe hasвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He handed the soiled cheque to the banker. Port Scatho looked at it with slow bewilderment. + 

вАЬвАКвАШAccount overdrawn,вАЩвАКвАЭ he read. вАЬBrownieвАЩsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ my nephewвАЩs handwriting.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ To the clubвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYou arenвАЩt going to take it lying down?вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬOh, thank goodness, you arenвАЩt going to take it lying down.вАЭ + 

вАЬNo! IвАЩm not going to take it lying down,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬWhy should I?вАЭ A look of hard suspicion came over the bankerвАЩs face. + 

вАЬYou appear,вАЭ he said, вАЬto have been overdrawing your account. People should not overdraw their accounts. For what sum are you overdrawn?вАЭ + 

Tietjens handed his passbook to Port Scatho. + 

вАЬI donвАЩt understand on what principle you work,вАЭ Sylvia said to Tietjens. вАЬThere are things you take lying down; this you donвАЩt.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬIt doesnвАЩt matter, really. Except for the child.вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬI guaranteed an overdraft for you up to a thousand pounds last Thursday. You canвАЩt be overdrawn over a thousand pounds.вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩm not overdrawn at all,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬI was for about fifteen pounds yesterday. I didnвАЩt know it.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho was turning over the pages of the passbook, his face completely blank. + 

вАЬI simply donвАЩt understand,вАЭ he said. вАЬYou appear to be in credit.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You appear always to have been in credit except for a small sum now and then. For a day or two.вАЭ + 

вАЬI was overdrawn,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬfor fifteen pounds yesterday. I should say for three or four hours: the course of a post, from my army agent to your head office. During these two or three hours your bank selected two out of six of my cheques to dishonourвБ†вАФboth being under two pounds. The other one was sent back to my mess at Ealing, who wonвАЩt, of course, give it back to me. That also is marked вАШaccount overdrawn,вАЩ and in the same handwriting.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut good God,вАЭ the banker said. вАЬThat means your ruin.вАЭ + 

вАЬIt certainly means my ruin,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬIt was meant to.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut,вАЭ the banker saidвБ†вАФa look of relief came into his face which had begun to assume the aspect of a broken manвАЩsвБ†вАФвАЬyou must have other accounts with the bankвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a speculative one, perhaps, on which you are heavily down.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I donвАЩt myself attend to clientвАЩs accounts, except the very huge ones, which affect the bankвАЩs policy.вАЭ + 

вАЬYou ought to,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬItвАЩs the very little ones you ought to attend to, as a gentleman making his fortune out of them. I have no other account with you. I have never speculated in anything in my life. I have lost a great deal in Russian securitiesвБ†вАФa great deal for me. But so, no doubt, have you.вАЭ + 

вАЬThenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ betting!вАЭ Port Scatho said. + 

вАЬI never put a penny on a horse in my life,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬI know too much about them.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho looked at the faces first of Sylvia, then of Tietjens. Sylvia, at least, was his very old friend. She said: + 

вАЬChristopher never bets and never speculates. His personal expenses are smaller than those of any man in town. You could say he had no personal expenses.вАЭ + 

Again the swift look of suspicion came into Port ScathoвАЩs open face. + 

вАЬOh,вАЭ Sylvia said, вАЬyou couldnвАЩt suspect Christopher and me of being in a plot to blackmail you.вАЭ + 

вАЬNo; I couldnвАЩt suspect that,вАЭ the banker said. вАЬBut the other explanation is just as extraordinary.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ To suspect the bankвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the bankвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ How do you account?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He was addressing Tietjens; his round head seemed to become square, below; emotion worked on his jaws. + 

вАЬIвАЩll tell you simply this,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬYou can then repair the matter as you think fit. Ten days ago I got my marching orders. As soon as I had handed over to the officer who relieved me I drew cheques for everything I owedвБ†вАФto my military tailor, the messвБ†вАФfor one pound twelve shillings. I had also to buy a compass and a revolver, the Red Cross orderlies having annexed mine when I was in hospital.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Port Scatho said: вАЬGood God!вАЭ + 

вАЬDonвАЩt you know they annex things?вАЭ Tietjens asked. He went on: вАЬThe total, in fact, amounted to an overdraft of fifteen pounds, but I did not think of it as such because my army agents ought to have paid my monthвАЩs army pay over to you on the first. As you perceive, they have only paid it over this morning, the 13th. But, as you will see from my passbook, they have always paid about the 13th, not the 1st. Two days ago I lunched at the club and drew that cheque for one pound fourteen shillings and sixpence: one ten for personal expenses and the four and six for lunch.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYou were, however, actually overdrawn,вАЭ the banker said sharply. + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬYesterday, for two hours.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut then,вАЭ Port Scatho said, вАЬwhat do you want done? WeвАЩll do what we can.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt know. Do what you like. YouвАЩd better make what explanation you can to the military authority. If they court-martialled me it would hurt you more than me. I assure you of that. There is an explanation.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho began suddenly to tremble. + 

вАЬWhatвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ whatвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ what explanation?вАЭ he said. вАЬYouвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ damn itвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you draw this out.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Do you dare to say my bank.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He stopped, drew his hand down his face and said: вАЬBut yetвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ youвАЩre a sensible, sound man.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩve heard things against you. But I donвАЩt believe them.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Your father always spoke very highly of you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I remember he said if you wanted money you could always draw on him through us for three or four hundred.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThatвАЩs what makes it so incomprehensible.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ itвАЩsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His agitation grew on him. вАЬIt seems to strike at the very heart.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬLook here, Port Scatho.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩve always had a respect for you. Settle it how you like. Fix the mess up for both our sakes with any formula thatвАЩs not humiliating for your bank. IвАЩve already resigned from the club.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: вАЬOh, no, ChristopherвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ not from the club!вАЭ + 

Port Scatho started back from beside the table. + 

вАЬBut if youвАЩre in the right!вАЭ he said. вАЬYou couldnвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Not resign from the club.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩm on the committeeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩll explain to them, in the fullest, in the most generousвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYou couldnвАЩt explain,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬYou canвАЩt get ahead of rumour.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs half over London at this moment. You know what the toothless old fellows of your committee are.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Anderson! FfolliottвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And my brotherвАЩs friend, Ruggles.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Port Scatho said: + 

вАЬYour brotherвАЩs friend Ruggles.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But look here.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ HeвАЩs something about the Court, isnвАЩt he? But look here.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His mind stopped. He said: вАЬPeople shouldnвАЩt overdraw.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But if your father said you could draw on him IвАЩm really much concerned.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YouвАЩre a first-rate fellow.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I can tell that from your passbook alone.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Nothing but cheques drawn to first-class tradesmen for reasonable amounts. The sort of passbook I liked to see when I was a junior clerk in the bank.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ At that early reminiscence feelings of pathos overcame him and his mind once more stopped. + 

Sylvia came back into the room; they had not perceived her going. She in turn held in her hand a letter. + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬLook here, Port Scatho, donвАЩt get into this state. Give me your word to do what you can when youвАЩve assured yourself the facts are as I say. I wouldnвАЩt bother you at all, itвАЩs not my line, except for Mrs.¬†Tietjens. A man alone can live that sort of thing down, or die. But thereвАЩs no reason why Mrs.¬†Tietjens should live, tied to a bad hat, while heвАЩs living it down or dying.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut thatвАЩs not right,вАЭ Port Scatho said, вАЬitвАЩs not the right way to look at it. You canвАЩt pocketвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩm simply bewildered.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYouвАЩve no right to be bewildered,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬYouвАЩre worrying your mind for expedients to save the reputation of your bank. We know your bank is more to you than a baby. You should look after it better, then.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho, who had already fallen two paces away from the table, now fell two paces back, almost on top of it. SylviaвАЩs nostrils were dilated. + 

She said: + 

вАЬTietjens shall not resign from your beastly club. He shall not! Your committee will request him formally to withdraw his resignation. You understand? He will withdraw it. Then he will resign for good. He is too good to mix with people like you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She paused, her chest working fast. вАЬDo you understand what youвАЩve got to do?вАЭ she asked. + 

An appalling shadow of a thought went through TietjensвАЩ mind: he would not let it come into words. + 

вАЬI donвАЩt knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ the banker said. вАЬI donвАЩt know that I can get the committeeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬYouвАЩve got to,вАЭ Sylvia answered. вАЬIвАЩll tell you whyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Christopher was never overdrawn. Last Thursday I instructed your people to pay a thousand pounds to my husbandвАЩs account. I repeated the instruction by letter and I kept a copy of the letter witnessed by my confidential maid. I also registered the letter and have the receipt for it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You can see them.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho mumbled from over the letter: + 

вАЬItвАЩs to BrownlieвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Yes, a receipt for a letter to BrownlieвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She examined the little green slip on both sides. He said: вАЬLast Thursday.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ TodayвАЩs Monday.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ An instruction to sell North-Western stock to the amount of one thousand pounds and place to the account ofвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Sylvia said: + 

вАЬThatвАЩll do.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You canвАЩt angle for time any more.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Your nephew has been in an affair of this sort before.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩll tell you. Last Thursday at lunch your nephew told me that ChristopherвАЩs brotherвАЩs solicitors had withdrawn all the permissions for overdrafts on the books of the Groby estate. There were several to members of the family. Your nephew said that he intended to catch Christopher on the hopвБ†вАФthatвАЩs his own expressionвБ†вАФand dishonour the next cheque of his that came in. He said he had been waiting for the chance ever since the war and the brotherвАЩs withdrawal had given it him. I begged him not toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬBut, good God,вАЭ the banker said, вАЬthis is unheard ofвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬIt isnвАЩt,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬChristopher has had five snotty, little, miserable subalterns to defend at court-martials for exactly similar cases. One was an exact reproduction of this.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬBut, good God,вАЭ the banker exclaimed again, вАЬmen giving their lives for their country.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Do you mean to say Brownlie did this out of revenge for TietjensвАЩ defending at court-martials.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And thenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ your thousand pounds is not shown in your husbandвАЩs passbook.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬOf course itвАЩs not,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬIt has never been paid in. On Friday I had a formal letter from your people pointing out that North-Westerns were likely to rise and asking me to reconsider my position. The same day I sent an express telling them explicitly to do as I said.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Ever since then your nephew has been on the phone begging me not to save my husband. He was there, just now, when I went out of the room. He was also beseeching me to fly with him.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬIsnвАЩt that enough, Sylvia? ItвАЩs rather torturing.вАЭ + 

вАЬLet them be tortured,вАЭ Sylvia said. вАЬBut it appears to be enough.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho had covered his face with both his pink hands. He had exclaimed: + 

вАЬOh, my God! Brownlie again.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

TietjensвАЩ brother Mark was in the room. He was smaller, browner and harder than Tietjens and his blue eyes protruded more. He had in one hand a bowler hat, in the other an umbrella, wore a pepper-and-salt suit and had race-glasses slung across him. He disliked Port Scatho, who detested him. He had lately been knighted. He said: + 

вАЬHullo, Port Scatho,вАЭ neglecting to salute his sister-in-law. His eyes, whilst he stood motionless, rolled a look round the room and rested on a miniature bureau that stood on a writing-table, in a recess, under and between bookshelves. + 

вАЬI see youвАЩve still got that cabinet,вАЭ he said to Tietjens. + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬI havenвАЩt. IвАЩve sold it to Sir John Robertson. HeвАЩs waiting to take it away till he has room in his collection.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho walked, rather unsteadily, round the lunch-table and stood looking down from one of the long windows. Sylvia sat down on her chair beside the fireplace. The two brothers stood facing each other, Christopher suggesting wheat-sacks, Mark, carved wood. All round them, except for the mirror that reflected bluenesses, the gilt backs of books. Hullo Central was clearing the table. + 

вАЬI hear youвАЩre going out again tomorrow,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬI want to settle some things with you.вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩm going at nine from Waterloo,вАЭ Christopher said. вАЬIвАЩve not much time. You can walk with me to the War Office if you like.вАЭ + 

MarkвАЩs eyes followed the black and white of the maid round the table. She went out with the tray. Christopher suddenly was reminded of Valentine Wannop clearing the table in her motherвАЩs cottage. Hullo Central was no faster about it. Mark said: + 

вАЬPort Scatho! As youвАЩre there we may as well finish one point. I have cancelled my fatherвАЩs security for my brotherвАЩs overdraft.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho said, to the window, but loud enough: + 

вАЬWe all know it. To our cost.вАЭ + 

вАЬI wish you, however,вАЭ Mark Tietjens went on, вАЬto make over from my own account a thousand a year to my brother as he needs it. Not more than a thousand in any one year.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho said: + 

вАЬWrite a letter to the bank. I donвАЩt look after clientsвАЩ accounts on social occasions.вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt see why you donвАЩt,вАЭ Mark Tietjens said. вАЬItвАЩs the way you make your bread and butter, isnвАЩt it?вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬYou may save yourself all this trouble, Mark. I am closing my account in any case.вАЭ + 

Port Scatho spun round on his heel. + 

вАЬI beg that you wonвАЩt,вАЭ he exclaimed. вАЬI beg that weвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ that we may have the honour of continuing to have you draw upon us.вАЭ He had the trick of convulsively working jaws: his head against the light was like the top of a rounded gatepost. He said to Mark Tietjens: вАЬYou may tell your friend, Mr.¬†Ruggles, that your brother is empowered by me to draw on my private accountвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ on my personal and private account up to any amount he needs. I say that to show my estimate of your brother; because I know he will incur no obligations he cannot discharge.вАЭ + 

Mark Tietjens stood motionless; leaning slightly on the crook of his umbrella on the one side; on the other displaying, at armвАЩs length, the white silk lining of his bowler hat, the lining being the brightest object in the room. + 

вАЬThatвАЩs your affair,вАЭ he said to Port Scatho. вАЬAll IвАЩm concerned with is to have a thousand a year paid to my brotherвАЩs account till further notice.вАЭ + 

Christopher Tietjens said, with what he knew was a sentimental voice, to Port Scatho. He was very touched; it appeared to him that with the spontaneous appearance of several names in his memory, and with this estimate of himself from the banker, his tide was turning and that this day might indeed be marked by a red stone: + 

вАЬOf course, Port Scatho, I wonвАЩt withdraw my wretched little account from you if you want to keep it. It flatters me that you should.вАЭ He stopped and added: вАЬI only wanted to avoid theseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ these family complications. But I suppose you can stop my brotherвАЩs money being paid into my account. I donвАЩt want his money.вАЭ + 

He said to Sylvia: + 

вАЬYou had better settle the other matter with Port Scatho.вАЭ + 

To Port Scatho: + 

вАЬIвАЩm intensely obliged to you, Port Scatho.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YouвАЩll get Lady Port Scatho round to MacmasterвАЩs this evening if only for a minute; before eleven.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ And to his brother: + 

вАЬCome along, Mark. IвАЩm going down to the War Office. We can talk as we walk.вАЭ + 

Sylvia said very nearly with timidityвБ†вАФand again a dark thought went over TietjensвАЩ mind: + 

вАЬDo we meet again then?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I know youвАЩre very busy.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬYes. IвАЩll come and pick you out from Lady JobвАЩs, if they donвАЩt keep me too long at the War Office. IвАЩm dining, as you know, at MacmasterвАЩs; I donвАЩt suppose I shall stop late.вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩd come,вАЭ Sylvia said, вАЬto MacmasterвАЩs, if you thought it was appropriate. IвАЩd bring Claudine Sandbach and General Wade. WeвАЩre only going to the Russian dancers. WeвАЩd cut off early.вАЭ + 

Tietjens could settle that sort of thought very quickly. + 

вАЬYes, do,вАЭ he said hurriedly. вАЬIt would be appreciated.вАЭ + 

He got to the door: he came back: his brother was nearly through. He said to Sylvia, and for him the occasion was a very joyful one: + 

вАЬIвАЩve worried out some of the words of that song. It runs: + 

вАЬвАКвАШSomewhere or other there must surely be + 

The face not seen: the voice not heardвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЩ + 

вАЬProbably itвАЩs вАШthe voice not ever heardвАЩ to make up the metre.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I donвАЩt know the writerвАЩs name. But I hope IвАЩll worry it all out during the day.вАЭ + 

Sylvia had gone absolutely white. + 

вАЬDonвАЩt!вАЭ she said. вАЬOhвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ donвАЩt.вАЭ She added coldly: вАЬDonвАЩt take the trouble,вАЭ and wiped her tiny handkerchief across her lips as Tietjens went away. + 

She had heard the song at a charity concert and had cried as she heard it. She had read, afterwards, the words in the programme and had almost cried again. But she had lost the programme and had never come across the words again. The echo of them remained with her like something terrible and alluring: like a knife she would some day take out and with which she would stab herself. + 

III + 

The two brothers walked twenty steps from the door along the empty Inn pavements without speaking. Each was completely expressionless. To Christopher it seemed like Yorkshire. He had a vision of Mark, standing on the lawn at Groby, in his bowler hat and with his umbrella, whilst the shooters walked over the lawn, and up the hill to the butts. Mark probably never had done that; but it was so that his image always presented itself to his brother. Mark was considering that one of the folds of his umbrella was disarranged. He seriously debated with himself whether he should unfold it at once and refold itвБ†вАФwhich was a great deal of trouble to take!вБ†вАФor whether he should leave it till he got to his club, where he would tell the porter to have it done at once. That would mean that he would have to walk for a mile and a quarter through London with a disarranged umbrella, which was disagreeable. + 

He said: + 

вАЬIf I were you I wouldnвАЩt let that banker fellow go about giving you testimonials of that sort.вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬAh!вАЭ + 

He considered that, with a third of his brain in action, he was over a match for Mark, but he was tired of discussions. He supposed that some unpleasant construction would be put by his brotherвАЩs friend, Ruggles, on the friendship of Port Scatho for himself. But he had no curiosity. Mark felt a vague discomfort. He said: + 

вАЬYou had a cheque dishonoured at the club this morning?вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬYes.вАЭ + 

Mark waited for explanations. Christopher was pleased at the speed with which the news had travelled: it confirmed what he had said to Port Scatho. He viewed his case from outside. It was like looking at the smooth working of a mechanical model. + 

Mark was more troubled. Used as he had been for thirty years to the vociferous south he had forgotten that there were taciturnities still. If at his Ministry he laconically accused a transport clerk of remissness, or if he accused his French mistressвБ†вАФjust as laconicallyвБ†вАФof putting too many condiments on his nightly mutton chop, or too much salt in the water in which she boiled his potatoes, he was used to hearing a great many excuses or negations, uttered with energy and continued for long. So he had got into the habit of considering himself almost the only laconic being in the world. He suddenly remembered with discomfortвБ†вАФbut also with satisfactionвБ†вАФthat his brother was his brother. + 

He knew nothing about Christopher, for himself. He had seemed to look at his little brother down avenues, from a distance, the child misbehaving himself. Not a true Tietjens: born very late: a motherвАЩs child, therefore, rather than a fatherвАЩs. The mother an admirable woman, but from the South Riding. Soft, therefore, and ample. The elder Tietjens children, when they had experienced failures, had been wont to blame their father for not marrying a woman of their own Riding. So, for himself, he knew nothing of this boy. He was said to be brilliant: an un-Tietjens-like quality. Akin to talkativeness!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Well, he wasnвАЩt talkative. Mark said: + 

вАЬWhat have you done with all the brass our mother left you? Twenty thousand, wasnвАЩt it?вАЭ + 

They were just passing through a narrow way between Georgian houses. In the next quadrangle Tietjens stopped and looked at his brother. Mark stood still to be looked at. Christopher said to himself: + 

вАЬThis man has the right to ask these questions!вАЭ + 

It was as if a queer slip had taken place in a moving-picture. This fellow had become the head of the house: he, Christopher, was the heir. At that moment, their father, in the grave four months now, was for the first time dead. + 

Christopher remembered a queer incident. After the funeral, when they had come back from the churchyard and had lunched, MarkвБ†вАФand Tietjens could now see the wooden gestureвБ†вАФhad taken out his cigar-case and, selecting one cigar for himself, had passed the rest round the table. It was as if peopleвАЩs hearts had stopped beating. Groby had never, till that day, been smoked in: the father had had his twelve pipes filled and put in the rosebushes in the drive.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

It had been regarded merely as a disagreeable incident: a piece of bad taste.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Christopher, himself, only just back from France, would not even have known it as such, his mind was so blank, only the parson had whispered to him: вАЬAnd Groby never smoked in till this day.вАЭ + 

But now! It appeared a symbol, and an absolutely right symbol. Whether they liked it or not, here were the head of the house and the heir. The head of the house must make his arrangements, the heir agree or disagree; but the elder brother had the right to have his enquiries answered. + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬHalf the money was settled at once on my child. I lost seven thousand in Russian securities. The rest I spent.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬAh!вАЭ + 

They had just passed under the arch that leads into Holborn. Mark, in turn, stopped and looked at his brother and Christopher stood still to be inspected, looking into his brotherвАЩs eyes. Mark said to himself: + 

вАЬThe fellow isnвАЩt at least afraid to look at you!вАЭ He had been convinced that Christopher would be. He said: + 

вАЬYou spent it on women? Or where do you get the money that you spend on women?вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬI never spent a penny on a woman in my life.вАЭ + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬAh!вАЭ + 

They crossed Holborn and went by the backways towards Fleet Street. + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬWhen I say вАШwomanвАЩ IвАЩm using the word in the ordinary sense. Of course IвАЩve given women of our own class tea or lunch and paid for their cabs. Perhaps IвАЩd better put it that IвАЩve neverвБ†вАФeither before or after marriageвБ†вАФhad connection with any woman other than my wife.вАЭ + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬAh!вАЭ + 

He said to himself: + 

вАЬThen Ruggles must be a liar.вАЭ This neither distressed nor astonished him. For twenty years he and Ruggles had shared a floor of a large and rather gloomy building in Mayfair. They were accustomed to converse whilst shaving in a joint toilet-room, otherwise they did not often meet except at the club. Ruggles was attached to the Royal Court in some capacity, possibly as sub-deputy gold-stick-in-waiting. Or he might have been promoted in the twenty years. Mark Tietjens had never taken the trouble to enquire. Enormously proud and shut in on himself, he was without curiosity of any sort. He lived in London because it was immense, solitary, administrative and apparently without curiosity as to its own citizens. If he could have found, in the north, a city as vast and as distinguished by the other characteristics, he would have preferred it. + 

Of Ruggles he thought little or nothing. He had once heard the phrase вАЬagreeable rattle,вАЭ and he regarded Ruggles as an agreeable rattle, though he did not know what the phrase meant. Whilst they shaved Ruggles gave out the scandal of the day. He never, that is to say, mentioned a woman whose virtue was not purchasable, or a man who would not sell his wife for advancement. This matched with MarkвАЩs ideas of the south. When Ruggles aspersed the fame of a man of family from the north, Mark would stop him with: + 

вАЬOh, no. ThatвАЩs not true. HeвАЩs a Craister of Wantley Fells,вАЭ or another name, as the case might be. Half Scotchman, half Jew, Ruggles was very tall and resembled a magpie, having his head almost always on one side. Had he been English Mark would never have shared his rooms with him: he knew indeed few Englishmen of sufficient birth and position to have that privilege, and, on the other hand, few Englishmen of birth and position would have consented to share rooms so grim and uncomfortable, so furnished with horsehair seated mahogany, or so lit with ground-glass skylights. Coming up to town at the age of twenty-five, Mark had taken these rooms with a man called Peebles, long since dead, and he had never troubled to make any change, though Ruggles had taken the place of Peebles. The remote similarity of the names had been less disturbing to Mark Tietjens than would have been the case had the names been more different. It would have been very disagreeable, Mark often thought, to share with a man called, say, Granger. As it was he still often called Ruggles Peebles, and no harm was done. Mark knew nothing of RugglesвАЩ origins, thenвБ†вАФso that, in a remote way, their union resembled that of Christopher with Macmaster. But whereas Christopher would have given his satellite the shirt off his back, Mark would not have lent Ruggles more than a five pound note, and would have turned him out of their rooms if it had not been returned by the end of the quarter. But, since Ruggles never had asked to borrow anything at all, Mark considered him an entirely honourable man. Occasionally Ruggles would talk of his determination to marry some widow or other with money, or of his influence with people in exalted stations, but, when he talked like that, Mark would not listen to him and he soon returned to stories of purchasable women and venial men. + 

About five months ago Mark had said one morning to Ruggles: + 

вАЬYou might pick up what you can about my youngest brother Christopher and let me know.вАЭ + 

The evening before that MarkвАЩs father had called Mark to him from over the other side of the smoking-room and had said: + 

вАЬYou might find out what you can about Christopher. He may be in want of money. Has it occurred to you that heвАЩs the heir to the estate! After you, of course.вАЭ Mr.¬†Tietjens had aged a good deal after the deaths of his children. He said: вАЬI suppose you wonвАЩt marry?вАЭ and Mark had answered: + 

вАЬNo; I shanвАЩt marry. But I suppose IвАЩm a better life than Christopher. He appears to have been a good deal knocked about out there.вАЭ + 

Armed then with this commission Mr.¬†Ruggles appears to have displayed extraordinary activity in preparing a Christopher Tietjens dossier. It is not often that an inveterate gossip gets a chance at a man whilst being at the same time practically shielded against the law of libel. And Ruggles disliked Christopher Tietjens with the inveterate dislike of the man who revels in gossip for the man who never gossips. And Christopher Tietjens had displayed more than his usual insolence to Ruggles. So RugglesвАЩ coattails flashed round an unusual number of doors and his top-hat gleamed before an unusual number of tall portals during the next week. + 

Amongst others he had visited the lady known as Glorvina. + 

There is said to be a book, kept in a holy of holies, in which bad marks are set down against men of family and position in England. In this book Mark Tietjens and his fatherвБ†вАФin common with a great number of hardheaded Englishmen of county rankвБ†вАФimplicitly believed. Christopher Tietjens didnвАЩt: he imagined that the activities of gentlemen like Ruggles were sufficient to stop the careers of people whom they disliked. On the other hand, Mark and his father looked abroad upon English society and saw fellows, apparently with every qualification for successful careers in one service or the other; and these fellows got no advancements, orders, titles or preferments of any kind. Just, rather mysteriously, they didnвАЩt make their marks. This they put down to the workings of the book. + 

Ruggles, too, not only believed in the existence of that compilation of the suspect and doomed, but believed that his hand had a considerable influence over the inscriptions in its pages. He believed that if, with more moderation and with more grounds than usual, he uttered denigrations of certain men before certain personages, it would at least do those men a great deal of harm. And, quite steadily and with, indeed, real belief in much of what he said, Ruggles had denigrated Tietjens before these personages. Ruggles could not see why Christopher had taken Sylvia back after her elopement with Perowne: he could not see why Christopher had, indeed, married Sylvia at all when she was with child by a man called DrakeвБ†вАФjust as he wasnвАЩt going to believe that Christopher could get a testimonial out of Lord Port Scatho except by the sale of Sylvia to the banker. He couldnвАЩt see anything but money or jobs at the bottom of these things: he couldnвАЩt see how Tietjens otherwise got the money to support Mrs.¬†Wannop, Miss Wannop and her child, and to maintain Mrs.¬†Duchemin and Macmaster in the style they affected, Mrs.¬†Duchemin being the mistress of Christopher. He simply could see no other solution. It is, in fact, asking for trouble if you are more altruist than the society that surrounds you. + 

Ruggles, however, hadnвАЩt any pointers as to whether or no or to what degree he had really damaged his roommateвАЩs brother. He had talked in what he considered to be the right quarters, but he hadnвАЩt any evidence that what he had said had got through. It was to ascertain that that he had called on the great lady, for if anybody knew, she would. + 

He hadnвАЩt definitely ascertained anything, for the great lady wasвБ†вАФand he knew itвБ†вАФa great deal cleverer than himself. The great lady, he was allowed to discover, had a real affection for Sylvia, her daughterвАЩs close friend, and she expressed real concern to hear that Christopher Tietjens wasnвАЩt getting on. Ruggles had gone to visit her quite openly to ask whether something better couldnвАЩt be done for the brother of the man with whom he lived. Christopher had, it was admitted, great abilities; yet neither in his officeвБ†вАФin which he would surely have remained had he been satisfied with his prospectsвБ†вАФnor in the army did he occupy anything but a very subordinate position. CouldnвАЩt, he asked, Glorvina do anything for him? And he added: вАЬItвАЩs almost as if he had a bad mark against him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

The great lady had said, with a great deal of energy, that she could not do anything at all. The energy was meant to show how absolutely her party had been downed, outed and jumped on by the party in power, so that she had no influence of any sort anywhere. That was an exaggeration; but it did Christopher Tietjens no good, since Ruggles chose to take it to mean that Glorvina said she could do nothing because there was a black mark against Tietjens in the book of the inner circle to whichвБ†вАФif anyone hadвБ†вАФthe great lady must have had access. + 

Glorvina, on the other hand, had been awakened to concern for Tietjens. In the existence of a book she didnвАЩt believe: she had never seen it. But that a black mark of a metaphorical nature might have been scored against him she was perfectly ready to believe and, when occasion served, during the next five months, she made enquiries about Tietjens. She came upon a Major Drake, an intelligence officer, who had access to the central depot of confidential reports upon officers, and Major Drake showed her, with a great deal of readiness, as a specimen, the report on Tietjens. It was of a most discouraging sort and peppered over with hieroglyphics, the main point being TietjensвАЩ impecuniosity and his predilection for the French; and apparently for the French Royalists. There being at that date and with that Government a great deal of friction with our Allies this characteristic which earlier had earned him a certain number of soft jobs had latterly done him a good deal of harm. Glorvina carried away the definite information that Tietjens had been seconded to the French artillery as a liaison officer and had remained with them some time, but, having been shell-shocked, had been sent back. After that a mark had been added against him: вАЬNot to be employed as liaison officer again.вАЭ + 

On the other hand, SylviaвАЩs visits to Austrian officer-prisoners had also been noted to TietjensвАЩ account and a final note added: вАЬNot to be entrusted with any confidential work.вАЭ + 

To what extent Major Drake himself compiled these records the great lady didnвАЩt know and didnвАЩt want to know. She was acquainted with the relationships of the parties and was aware that in certain dark, full-blooded men the passion for sexual revenge is very lasting, and she let it go at that. She discovered, however, from Mr.¬†WaterhouseвБ†вАФnow also in retreatвБ†вАФthat he had a very high opinion of TietjensвАЩ character and abilities, and that just before WaterhouseвАЩs retirement he had especially recommended Tietjens for very high promotion. That alone, in the then state of Ministerial friendships and enmities, Glorvina knew to be sufficient to ruin any man within range of Governmental influence. + 

She had, therefore, sent for Sylvia and had put all these matters before her, for she had too much wisdom to believe that, even supposing there should be differences between the young people of which she had no evidence at all, Sylvia could wish to do anything but promote her husbandвАЩs material interests. Moreover, sincerely benevolent as the great lady was towards this couple, she also saw that here was a possibility of damaging, at least, individuals of the party in power. A person in a relatively unimportant official position can sometimes make a very nasty stink if he is unjustly used, has determination and a small amount of powerful backing. This Sylvia, at least, certainly had. + 

And Sylvia had received the great ladyвАЩs news with so much emotion that no one could have doubted that she was utterly devoted to her husband and would tell him all about it. This Sylvia had not as yet managed to do. + 

Ruggles in the meantime had collected a very full budget of news and inferences to present to Mark Tietjens whilst shaving. Mark had been neither surprised nor indignant. He had been accustomed to call all his fatherвАЩs children, except the brother immediately next him, вАЬthe whelps,вАЭ and their concerns had been no concerns of his. They would marry, beget unimportant children who would form collateral lines of Tietjens and disappear as is the fate of sons of younger sons. And the deaths of the intermediate brothers had been so recent that Mark was not yet used to thinking of Christopher as anything but a whelp, a person whose actions might be disagreeable but couldnвАЩt matter. He said to Ruggles: + 

вАЬYou had better talk to my father about this. I donвАЩt know that I could keep all these particulars accurately in my head.вАЭ + 

Ruggles had been only too pleased to, andвБ†вАФwith, to give him weight, his intimacy with the eldest son, who certified to his reliability in money matters and his qualifications for amassing details as to personalities, acts and promotionsвБ†вАФthat day, at tea at the club, in a tranquil corner, Ruggles had told Mr.¬†Tietjens senior that ChristopherвАЩs wife had been with child when he had married her; he had hushed up her elopement with Perowne and connived at other love affairs of hers to his own dishonour, and was suspected in high places of being a French agent, thus being marked down as suspect in the great book.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ All this in order to obtain money for the support of Miss Wannop, by whom he had had a child, and to maintain Macmaster and Mrs.¬†Duchemin on a scale unsuited to their means, Mrs.¬†Duchemin being his mistress. The story that Tietjens had had a child by Miss Wannop was first suggested, and then supported, by the fact that in Yorkshire he certainly had a son who never appeared in GrayвАЩs Inn. + 

Mr.¬†Tietjens was a reasonable man: not reasonable enough to doubt RugglesвАЩ circumstantial history. He believed implicitly in the great bookвБ†вАФwhich has been believed in by several generations of country gentlemen: he perceived that his brilliant son had made no advancement commensurate with either his brilliance or his influence: he suspected that brilliance was synonymous with reprehensible tendencies. Moreover, his old friend, General Ffolliott, had definitely told him some days before that he ought to enquire into the goings on of Christopher. On being pressed Ffolliott had, also definitely, stated that Christopher was suspected of very dishonourable dealings, both in money and women. RugglesвАЩ allegations came, therefore, as a definite confirmation of suspicions that appeared only too well backed up. + 

He bitterly regretted that, knowing Christopher to be brilliant, he had turned the boyвБ†вАФas is the usual portion of younger sonsвБ†вАФadrift, with what of a competence could be got together, to sink or swim. He had, he said to himself, always wished to keep at home and under his own eyes this boy for whom he had had especial promptings of tenderness. His wife, to whom he had been absolutely attached by a passionate devotion, had been unusually wrapped up in Christopher, because Christopher had been her youngest son, born very late. And, since his wifeвАЩs death, Christopher had been especially dear to him, as if he had carried about his presence some of the radiance and illumination that had seemed to attach to his mother. Indeed, after his wifeвАЩs death, Mr.¬†Tietjens had very nearly asked Christopher and his wife to come and keep house for him at Groby, making, of course, special testamentary provision for Christopher in order to atone for his giving up his career at the Department of Statistics. His sense of justice to his other children had prevented him doing this. + 

What broke his heart was that Christopher should not only have seduced but should have had a child by Valentine Wannop. Very grand seigneur in his habits, Mr.¬†Tietjens had always believed in his duty to patronise the arts and, if he had actually done little in this direction beyond purchasing some chocolate-coloured pictures of the French historic school, he had for long prided himself on what he had done for the widow and children of his old friend, Professor Wannop. He considered, and with justice, that he had made Mrs.¬†Wannop a novelist, and he considered her to be a very great novelist. And his conviction of the guilt of Christopher was strengthened by a slight tinge of jealousy of his son: a feeling that he would not have acknowledged to himself. For, since Christopher, he didnвАЩt know how, for he had given his son no introduction, had become an intimate of the Wannop household, Mrs.¬†Wannop had completely given up asking him, Mr.¬†Tietjens, clamourously and constantly for advice. In return she had sung the praises of Christopher in almost extravagant terms. She had, indeed, said that if Christopher had not been almost daily in the house or at any rate at the end of the phone she would hardly have been able to keep on working at full pressure. This had not overpleased Mr.¬†Tietjens. Mr.¬†Tietjens entertained for Valentine Wannop an affection of the very deepest, the same qualities appealing to the father as appealed to the son. He had even, in spite of his sixty odd years, seriously entertained the idea of marrying the girl. She was a lady: she would have managed Groby very well; and, although the entail on the property was very strict indeed, he would, at least, have been able to put her beyond the reach of want after his death. He had thus no doubt of his sonвАЩs guilt, and he had to undergo the additional humiliation of thinking that not only had his son betrayed this radiant personality, but he had done it so clumsily as to give the girl a child and let it be known. That was unpardonable want of management in the son of a gentleman. And now this boy was his heir with a misbegotten brat to follow. Irrevocably! + 

All his four tall sons, then, were down. His eldest tied for good toвБ†вАФa quite admirable!вБ†вАФtrollop: his two next dead: his youngest worse than dead: his wife dead of a broken heart. + 

A soberly but deeply religious man, Mr.¬†TietjensвАЩ very religion made him believe in ChristopherвАЩs guilt. He knew that it is as difficult for a rich man to go to heaven as it is for a camel to go through the gate in Jerusalem called the NeedleвАЩs Eye. He humbly hoped that his Maker would receive him amongst the pardoned. Then, since he was a richвБ†вАФan enormously richвБ†вАФman, his sufferings on this earth must be very great.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

From teatime that day until it was time to catch the midnight train for BishopвАЩs Auckland he had been occupied with his son Mark in the writing-room of the club. They had made many notes. He had seen his son Christopher, in uniform, looking broken and rather bloated, the result, no doubt, of debauch. Christopher had passed through the other end of the room and Mr.¬†Tietjens had avoided his eye. He had caught the train and reached Groby, travelling alone. Towards dusk he had taken out a gun. He was found dead next morning, a couple of rabbits beside his body, just over the hedge from the little churchyard. He appeared to have crawled through the hedge, dragging his loaded gun, muzzle forwards, after him. Hundreds of men, mostly farmers, die from that cause every year in England.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

With these things in his mindвБ†вАФor as much of them as he could keep at onceвБ†вАФMark was now investigating his brotherвАЩs affairs. He would have let things go on longer, for his fatherвАЩs estate was by no means wound up, but that morning Ruggles had told him that the club had had a cheque of his brotherвАЩs returned and that his brother was going out to France next day. It was five months exactly since the death of their father. That had happened in March, it was now August: a bright, untidy day in narrow, high courts. + 

Mark arranged his thoughts. + 

вАЬHow much of an income,вАЭ he said, вАЬdo you need to live in comfort? If a thousand isnвАЩt enough, how much? Two?вАЭ + 

Christopher said that he needed no money and didnвАЩt intend to live in comfort. Mark said: + 

вАЬI am to let you have three thousand, if youвАЩll live abroad. IвАЩm only carrying out our fatherвАЩs instructions. You could cut a hell of a splash on three thousand in France.вАЭ + 

Christopher did not answer. + 

Mark began again: + 

вАЬThe remaining three thousand then: that was over from our motherвАЩs money. Did you settle it on your girl, or just spend it on her?вАЭ + 

Christopher repeated with patience that he hadnвАЩt got a girl. + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬThe girl who had a child by you. IвАЩm instructed, if you havenвАЩt settled anything alreadyвБ†вАФbut father took it that you would haveвБ†вАФI was to let her have enough to live in comfort. How much do you suppose sheвАЩll need to live in comfort? I allow Charlotte five hundred. Would five hundred be enough? I suppose you want to go on keeping her? Three thousand isnвАЩt a great lot for her to live on with a child.вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬHadnвАЩt you better mention names?вАЭ + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬNo! I never mention names. I mean a woman writer and her daughter. I suppose the girl is fatherвАЩs daughter, isnвАЩt she?вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬNo. She couldnвАЩt be. IвАЩve thought of it. SheвАЩs twenty-seven. We were all in Dijon for the two years before she was born. Father didnвАЩt come into the estate till next year. The Wannops were also in Canada at the time. Professor Wannop was principal of a university there. I forget the name.вАЭ + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬSo we were. In Dijon! For my French!вАЭ He added: вАЬThen she canвАЩt be fatherвАЩs daughter. ItвАЩs a good thing. I thought, as he wanted to settle money on them, they were very likely his children. ThereвАЩs a son, too. HeвАЩs to have a thousand. WhatвАЩs he doing?вАЭ + 

вАЬThe son,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬis a conscientious objector. HeвАЩs on a minesweeper. A bluejacket. His idea is that picking up mines is saving life, not taking it.вАЭ + 

вАЬThen he wonвАЩt want the brass yet,вАЭ Mark said, вАЬitвАЩs to start him in any business. WhatвАЩs the full name and address of your girl? Where do you keep her?вАЭ + 

They were in an open space, dusty, with half-timber buildings whose demolition had been interrupted. Christopher halted close to a post that had once been a cannon; up against this he felt that his brother could lean in order to assimilate ideas. He said slowly and patiently: + 

вАЬIf youвАЩre consulting with me as to how to carry out our fatherвАЩs intentions, and as thereвАЩs money in it you had better make an attempt to get hold of the facts. I wouldnвАЩt bother you if it wasnвАЩt a matter of money. In the first place, no money is wanted at this end. I can live on my pay. My wife is a rich woman relatively. Her mother is a very rich woman.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬSheвАЩs RugeleyвАЩs mistress, isnвАЩt she?вАЭ Mark asked. + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬNo, she isnвАЩt. I should certainly say she wasnвАЩt. Why should she be? SheвАЩs his cousin.вАЭ + 

вАЬThen itвАЩs your wife who was RugeleyвАЩs mistress?вАЭ Mark asked. вАЬOr why should she have the loan of his box?вАЭ + 

вАЬSylvia also is RugeleyвАЩs cousin, of course, a degree further removed,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬShe isnвАЩt anyoneвАЩs mistress. You can be certain of that.вАЭ + 

вАЬThey say she is,вАЭ Mark answered. вАЬThey say sheвАЩs a regular tart.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I suppose you think IвАЩve insulted you.вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬNo, you havenвАЩt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs better to get all this out. WeвАЩre practically strangers, but youвАЩve a right to ask.вАЭ + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬThen you havenвАЩt got a girl and donвАЩt need money to keep her.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You could have what you liked. ThereвАЩs no reason why a man shouldnвАЩt have a girl, and if he has he ought to keep her decently.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Christopher did not answer. Mark leaned against the half-buried cannon and swung his umbrella by its crook. + 

вАЬBut,вАЭ he said, вАЬif you donвАЩt keep a girl what do you do forвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He was going to say вАЬfor the comforts of home,вАЭ but a new idea had come into his mind. вАЬOf course,вАЭ he said, вАЬone can see that your wifeвАЩs soppily in love with you.вАЭ He added: вАЬSoppilyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ one can see that with half an eye.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Christopher felt his jaw drop. Not a second beforeвБ†вАФthat very second!вБ†вАФhe had made up his mind to ask Valentine Wannop to become his mistress that night. It was no good, any more, he said to himself. She loved him, he knew, with a deep, an unshakable passion, just as his passion for her was a devouring element that covered his whole mind as the atmosphere envelopes the earth. Were they, then, to go down to death separated by years, with no word ever spoken? To what end? For whose benefit? The whole world conspired to force them together! To resist became a weariness! + 

His brother Mark was talking on. вАЬI know all about women,вАЭ he had announced. Perhaps he did. He had lived with exemplary fidelity to a quite unpresentable woman, for a number of years. Perhaps the complete study of one woman gave you a map of all the rest! + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬLook here, Mark. You had better go through all my passbooks for the last ten years. Or ever since I had an account. This discussion is no good if you donвАЩt believe what I say.вАЭ + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬI donвАЩt want to see your passbooks. I believe you.вАЭ + 

He added, a second later: + 

вАЬWhy the devil shouldnвАЩt I believe you? ItвАЩs either believing youвАЩre a gentleman or Ruggles a liar. ItвАЩs only common sense to believe Ruggles a liar, in that case. I didnвАЩt before because I had no grounds to.вАЭ Christopher said: + 

вАЬI doubt if liar is the right word. He picked up things that were said against me. No doubt he reported them faithfully enough. Things are said against me. I donвАЩt know why.вАЭ + 

вАЬBecause,вАЭ Mark said with emphasis, вАЬyou treat these south country swine with the contempt that they deserve. TheyвАЩre incapable of understanding the motives of a gentleman. If you live among dogs theyвАЩll think youвАЩve the motives of a dog. What other motives can they give you?вАЭ He added: вАЬI thought youвАЩd been buried so long under their muck that you were as mucky as they!вАЭ + 

Tietjens looked at his brother with the respect one has to give to a man ignorant but shrewd. It was a discovery: that his brother was shrewd. + 

But, of course, he would be shrewd. He was the indispensable head of a great department. He had to have some qualities.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Not cultivated, not even instructed. A savage! But penetrating! + 

вАЬWe must move on,вАЭ he said, вАЬor I shall have to take a cab.вАЭ Mark detached himself from his half buried cannon. + 

вАЬWhat did you do with the other three thousand?вАЭ he asked. вАЬThree thousand is a hell of a big sum to chuck away. For a younger son.вАЭ + 

вАЬExcept for some furniture I bought for my wifeвАЩs rooms,вАЭ Christopher said, вАЬit went mostly in loans.вАЭ + 

вАЬLoans!вАЭ Mark exclaimed. вАЬTo that fellow Macmaster?вАЭ + 

вАЬMostly to him,вАЭ Christopher answered. вАЬBut about seven hundred to Dicky Swipes, of Cullercoats.вАЭ + 

вАЬGood God! Why to him?вАЭ Mark ejaculated. + 

вАЬOh, because he was Swipes, of Cullercoats,вАЭ Christopher said, вАЬand asked for it. HeвАЩd have had more, only that was enough for him to drink himself to death on.вАЭ + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬI suppose you donвАЩt give money to every fellow that asks for it?вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬI do. ItвАЩs a matter of principle.вАЭ + 

вАЬItвАЩs lucky,вАЭ Mark said, вАЬthat a lot of fellows donвАЩt know that. You wouldnвАЩt have much brass left for long.вАЭ + 

вАЬI didnвАЩt have it for long,вАЭ Christopher said. + 

вАЬYou know,вАЭ Mark said, вАЬyou couldnвАЩt expect to do the princely patron on a youngest sonвАЩs portion. ItвАЩs a matter of taste. I never gave a haвАЩpenny to a beggar myself. But a lot of the Tietjens were princely. One generation to addle brass: one to keep: one to spend. ThatвАЩs all right.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I suppose MacmasterвАЩs wife is your mistress? ThatвАЩll account for it not being the girl. They keep an armchair for you.вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬNo. I just backed Macmaster for the sake of backing him. Father lent him money to begin with.вАЭ + 

вАЬSo he did,вАЭ Mark exclaimed. + 

вАЬHis wife,вАЭ Christopher said, вАЬwas the widow of Breakfast Duchemin. You knew Breakfast Duchemin?вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, I knew Breakfast Duchemin,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬI suppose MacmasterвАЩs a pretty warm man now. Done himself proud with DucheminвАЩs money.вАЭ + 

вАЬPretty proud!вАЭ Christopher said. вАЬThey wonвАЩt be knowing me long now.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut damn it all!вАЭ Mark said. вАЬYouвАЩve Groby to all intents and purposes. IвАЩm not going to marry and beget children to hinder you.вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬThanks. I donвАЩt want it.вАЭ + 

вАЬGot your knife into me?вАЭ Mark asked. + 

вАЬYes. IвАЩve got my knife into you,вАЭ Christopher answered. вАЬInto the whole bloody lot of you, and Ruggles and Ffolliott and our father!вАЭ + 

Mark said: вАЬAh!вАЭ + 

вАЬYou donвАЩt suppose I wouldnвАЩt have?вАЭ Christopher asked. + 

вАЬOh, I donвАЩt suppose you wouldnвАЩt have,вАЭ Mark answered. вАЬI thought you were a soft sort of bloke. I see you arenвАЩt.вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩm as North Riding as yourself!вАЭ Christopher answered. + 

They were in the tide of Fleet Street, pushed apart by foot passengers and separated by traffic. With some of the imperiousness of the officer of those days Christopher barged across through motorbuses and paper lorries. With the imperiousness of the head of a department Mark said: + 

вАЬHere, policeman, stop these damn things and let me get over.вАЭ But Christopher was over much the sooner and waited for his brother in the gateway of the Middle Temple. His mind was completely swallowed up in the endeavour to imagine the embraces of Valentine Wannop. He said to himself that he had burnt his boats. + 

Mark, coming alongside him, said: + 

вАЬYouвАЩd better know what our father wanted.вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬBe quick then. I must get on.вАЭ He had to rush through his War Office interview to get to Valentine Wannop. They would have only a few hours in which to recount the loves of two lifetimes. He saw her golden head and her enraptured face. He wondered how her face would look, enraptured. He had seen on it humour, dismay, tenderness, in the eyesвБ†вАФand fierce anger and contempt for his, ChristopherвАЩs, political opinions. His militarism! + 

Nevertheless they halted by the Temple fountain. That respect was due to their dead father. Mark had been explaining. Christopher had caught some of his words and divined the links. Mr.¬†Tietjens had left no will, confident that his desires as to the disposal of his immense fortune would be carried out meticulously by his eldest son. He would have left a will, but there was the vague case of Christopher to be considered. Whilst Christopher had been a youngest son you arranged that he had a good lump sum and went, with it, to the devil how he liked. He was no longer a youngest son: by the will of God. + 

вАЬOur fatherвАЩs idea,вАЭ Mark said by the fountain, вАЬwas that no settled sum could keep you straight. His idea was that if you were a bloody pimp living on womenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You donвАЩt mind?вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt mind your putting it straightforwardly,вАЭ Christopher said. He considered the base of the fountain that was half full of leaves. This civilisation had contrived a state of things in which leaves rotted by August. Well, it was doomed! + 

вАЬIf you were a pimp living on women,вАЭ Mark repeated, вАЬit was no good making a will. You might need uncounted thousands to keep you straight. You were to have вАЩem. You were to be as debauched as you wanted, but on clean money. I was to see how much in all probability that would be and arrange the other legacies to scale.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Father had crowds of pensioners.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬHow much did father cut up for?вАЭ Christopher asked. + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬGod knows.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You saw we proved the estate at a million and a quarter as far as ascertained. But it might be twice that. Or five times!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ With steel prices what they have been for the last three years itвАЩs impossible to say what the Middlesbrough district property wonвАЩt produce.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The death duties even canвАЩt catch it up. And there are all the ways of getting round them.вАЭ + 

Christopher inspected his brother with curiosity. This brown-complexioned fellow with bulging eyes, shabby on the whole, tightly buttoned into a rather old pepper-and-salt suit, with a badly rolled umbrella, old race-glasses and his bowler hat the only neat thing about him, was indeed, a prince. With a rigid outline! All real princes must look like that. He said: + 

вАЬWell! You wonвАЩt be a penny the poorer by me.вАЭ + 

Mark was beginning to believe this. He said: + 

вАЬYou wonвАЩt forgive father?вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬI wonвАЩt forgive father for not making a will. I wonвАЩt forgive him for calling in Ruggles. I saw him and you in the writing-room the night before he died. He never spoke to me. He could have. It was clumsy stupidity. ThatвАЩs unforgiveable.вАЭ + 

вАЬThe fellow shot himself,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬYou usually forgive a fellow who shoots himself.вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt,вАЭ Christopher said. вАЬBesides heвАЩs probably in heaven and donвАЩt need my forgiveness. Ten to one heвАЩs in heaven. He was a good man.вАЭ + 

вАЬOne of the best,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬIt was I that called in Ruggles though.вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt forgive you either,вАЭ Christopher said. + 

вАЬBut you must,вАЭ Mark saidвБ†вАФand it was a tremendous concession to sentimentalityвБ†вАФвАЬtake enough to make you comfortable.вАЭ + 

вАЬBy God!вАЭ Christopher exclaimed. вАЬI loathe your whole beastly buttered toast, mutton-chopped, carpet-slippered, rum-negused comfort as much as I loathe your beastly Riviera-palaced, chauffeured, hydraulic-lifted, hothouse aired beastliness of fornication.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He was carried away, as he seldom let himself be, by the idea of his amours with Valentine Wannop which should take place on the empty boards of a cottage, without draperies, fat meats, gummy aphrodisiacs.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬYou wonвАЩt,вАЭ he repeated, вАЬbe a penny the poorer by me.вАЭ + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬWell, you neednвАЩt get shirty about it. If you wonвАЩt you wonвАЩt. WeвАЩd better move on. YouвАЩve only just time. WeвАЩll say that settles it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Are you, or arenвАЩt you, overdrawn at your bank. IвАЩll make that up, whatever you damn well do to stop it.вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩm not overdrawn,вАЭ Christopher said. вАЬIвАЩm over thirty pounds in credit, and IвАЩve an immense overdraft guaranteed by Sylvia. It was a mistake of the bankвАЩs.вАЭ + 

Mark hesitated for a moment. It was to him almost unbelievable that a bank could make a mistake. One of the great banks. The props of England. + 

They were walking down towards the embankment. With his precious umbrella Mark aimed a violent blow at the railings above the tennis lawns, where whitish figures, bedrabbled by the dim atmosphere, moved like marionettes practising crucifixions. + 

вАЬBy God!вАЭ he said, вАЬthis is the last of England.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThereвАЩs only my department where they never make mistakes. I tell you, if there were any mistakes made there there would be some backs broken!вАЭ He added: вАЬBut donвАЩt you think that IвАЩm going to give up comfort, IвАЩm not. My Charlotte makes better buttered toast than they can at the club. And sheвАЩs got a tap of French rum thatвАЩs saved my life over and over again after a beastly wet dayвАЩs racing. And she does it all on the five hundred I give her and keeps herself clean and tidy on top of it. Nothing like a Frenchwoman for managing.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ By God, IвАЩd marry the doxy if she wasnвАЩt a Papist. It would please her and it wouldnвАЩt hurt me. But I couldnвАЩt stomach marrying a Papist. TheyвАЩre not to be trusted.вАЭ + 

вАЬYouвАЩll have to stomach a Papist coming into Groby,вАЭ Christopher said. вАЬMy sonвАЩs to be brought up as a Papist.вАЭ + 

Mark stopped and dug his umbrella into the ground. + 

вАЬEh, but thatвАЩs a bitter one,вАЭ he said. вАЬWhatever made ye do that?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I suppose the mother made you do it. She tricked you into it before you married her.вАЭ He added: вАЬIвАЩd not like to sleep with that wife of yours. SheвАЩs too athletic. ItвАЩd be like sleeping with a bundle of faggots. I suppose though youвАЩre a pair of turtle doves.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Eh, but IвАЩd not have thought ye would have been so weak.вАЭ + 

вАЬI only decided this morning,вАЭ Christopher said, вАЬwhen my cheque was returned from the bank. You wonвАЩt have read Spelden on Sacrilege, about Groby.вАЭ + 

вАЬI canвАЩt say I have,вАЭ Mark answered. + 

вАЬItвАЩs no good trying to explain that side of it then,вАЭ Christopher said, вАЬthere isnвАЩt time. But youвАЩre wrong in thinking Sylvia made it a condition of our marriage. Nothing would have made me consent then. It has made her a happy woman that I have. The poor thing thought our house was under a curse for want of a Papist heir.вАЭ + 

вАЬWhat made ye consent now?вАЭ Mark asked. + 

вАЬIвАЩve told you,вАЭ Christopher said, вАЬit was getting my cheque returned to the club; that on the top of the rest of it. A fellow who canвАЩt do better than that had better let the mother bring up the child.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Besides, it wonвАЩt hurt a Papist boy to have a father with dishonoured cheques as much as it would a Protestant. TheyвАЩre not quite English.вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩs true too,вАЭ Mark said. + 

He stood still by the railings of the public garden near the Temple station. + 

вАЬThen,вАЭ he said, вАЬif IвАЩd let the lawyers write and tell you the guarantee for your overdraft from the estate was stopped as they wanted to, the boy wouldnвАЩt be a Papist? You wouldnвАЩt have overdrawn.вАЭ + 

вАЬI didnвАЩt overdraw,вАЭ Christopher said. вАЬBut if you had warned me I should have made enquiries at the bank and the mistake wouldnвАЩt have occurred. Why didnвАЩt you?вАЭ + 

вАЬI meant to,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬI meant to do it myself. But I hate writing letters. I put it off. I didnвАЩt much like having dealings with the fellow I thought you were. I suppose thatвАЩs another thing you wonвАЩt forgive me for?вАЭ + 

вАЬNo. I shanвАЩt forgive you for not writing to me,вАЭ Christopher said. вАЬYou ought to write business letters.вАЭ + 

вАЬI hate writing вАЩem,вАЭ Mark said. Christopher was moving on. вАЬThereвАЩs one thing more,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬI suppose the boy is your son?вАЭ + 

вАЬYes, heвАЩs my son,вАЭ Christopher said. + 

вАЬThen thatвАЩs all,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬI suppose if youвАЩre killed you wonвАЩt mind my keeping an eye on the youngster?вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩll be glad,вАЭ Christopher said. + 

They strolled along the Embankment side by side, walking rather slowly, their backs erected and their shoulders squared because of their satisfaction of walking together, desiring to lengthen the walk by going slow. Once or twice they stopped to look at the dirty silver of the river, for both liked grim effects of landscape. They felt very strong, as if they owned the land! + 

Once Mark chuckled and said: + 

вАЬItвАЩs too damn funny. To think of our both beingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ what is it?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ monogamists? Well, itвАЩs a good thing to stick to one womanвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you canвАЩt say it isnвАЩt. It saves trouble. And you know where you are.вАЭ + 

Under the lugubrious arch that leads into the War Office quadrangle Christopher halted. + 

вАЬNo. IвАЩm coming in,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬI want to speak to Hogarth. I havenвАЩt spoken to Hogarth for some time. About the transport wagon parks in RegentвАЩs Park. I manage all those beastly things and a lot more.вАЭ + 

вАЬThey say you do it damn well,вАЭ Christopher said. вАЬThey say youвАЩre indispensable.вАЭ He was aware that his brother desired to stay with him as long as possible. He desired it himself. + 

вАЬI damn well am!вАЭ Mark said. He added: вАЬI suppose you couldnвАЩt do that sort of job in France? Look after transport and horses.вАЭ + 

вАЬI could,вАЭ Christopher said, вАЬbut I suppose I shall go back to liaison work.вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt think you will,вАЭ Mark said. вАЬI could put in a word for you with the transport people.вАЭ + 

вАЬI wish you would,вАЭ Christopher said. вАЬIвАЩm not fit to go back into the front line. Besides IвАЩm no beastly hero! And IвАЩm a rotten infantry officer. No Tietjens was ever a soldier worth talking of.вАЭ + 

They turned the corner of the arch. Like something fitting in, exact and expected, Valentine Wannop stood looking at the lists of casualties that hung beneath a cheaply green-stained deal shelter against the wall, a tribute at once to the weaker art movements of the day and the desire to save the ratepayerвАЩs money. + 

With the same air of finding Christopher Tietjens fit in exactly to an expected landscape she turned on him. Her face was blue-white and distorted. She ran upon him and exclaimed: + 

вАЬLook at this horror! And you in that foul uniform can support it!вАЭ + 

The sheets of paper beneath the green roof were laterally striped with little serrated lines: each line meant the death of a man, for the day. + 

Tietjens had fallen a step back off the curb of the pavement that ran round the quadrangle. He said: + 

вАЬI support it because I have to. Just as you decry it because you have to. TheyвАЩre two different patterns that we see.вАЭ He added: вАЬThis is my brother Mark.вАЭ + 

She turned her head stiffly upon Mark: her face was perfectly waxen. It was as if the head of a shopkeeperвАЩs lay-figure had been turned. She said to Mark: + 

вАЬI didnвАЩt know Mr.¬†Tietjens had a brother. Or hardly. IвАЩve never heard him speak of you.вАЭ + 

Mark grinned feebly, exhibiting to the lady the brilliant lining of his hat. + 

вАЬI donвАЩt suppose anyone has ever heard me speak of him,вАЭ he said, вАЬbut heвАЩs my brother all right!вАЭ + 

She stepped on to the asphalt carriageway and caught between her fingers and thumb a fold of ChristopherвАЩs khaki sleeve. + 

вАЬI must speak to you,вАЭ she said; вАЬIвАЩm going then.вАЭ + 

She drew Christopher into the center of the enclosed, hard and ungracious space, holding him still by the stuff of his tunic. She pushed him round until he was facing her. She swallowed hard, it was as if the motion of her throat took an immense time. Christopher looked round the skyline of the buildings of sordid and besmirched stone. He had often wondered what would happen if an air-bomb of some size dropped into the mean, grey stoniness of that cold heart of an embattled world. + 

The girl was devouring his face with her eyes: to see him flinch. Her voice was hard between her little teeth. She said: + 

вАЬWere you the father of the child Ethel was going to have? Your wife says you were.вАЭ + 

Christopher considered the dimensions of the quadrangle. He said vaguely: + 

вАЬEthel? WhoвАЩs she?вАЭ In pursuance of the habits of the painter-poet Mr.¬†and Mrs.¬†Macmaster called each other always вАЬGuggums!вАЭ Christopher had in all probability never heard Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs Christian names. Certainly he had never heard them since his disaster had swept all names out of his head. + 

He came to the conclusion that the quadrangle was not a space sufficiently confined to afford much bursting resistance to a bomb. + 

The girl said: + 

вАЬEdith Ethel Duchemin! Mrs.¬†Macmaster that is!вАЭ She was obviously waiting intensely. Christopher said with vagueness: + 

вАЬNo! Certainly not!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What was said?вАЭ + 

Mark Tietjens was leaning forward over the kerb in front of the green-stained shelter, like a child over a brookside. He was obviously waiting, quite patient, swinging his umbrella by the hook. He appeared to have no other means of self-expression. The girl was saying that when she had rung up Christopher that morning a voice had said, without any preparation at all: the girl repeated, without any preparation at all: + 

вАЬYouвАЩd better keep off the grass if youвАЩre the Wannop girl. Mrs.¬†Duchemin is my husbandвАЩs mistress already. You keep off!вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬShe said that, did she?вАЭ He was wondering how Mark kept his balance, really. The girl said nothing more. She was waiting. With an insistence that seemed to draw him: a sort of sucking in of his personality. It was unbearable. He made his last effort of that afternoon. + 

He said: + 

вАЬDamn it all. How could you ask such a tomfool question? You! I took you to be an intelligent person. The only intelligent person I know. DonвАЩt you know me?вАЭ + 

She made an effort to retain her stiffening. + 

вАЬIsnвАЩt Mrs.¬†Tietjens a truthful person?вАЭ she asked. вАЬI thought she looked truthful when I saw her at Vincent and EthelвАЩs.вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬWhat she says she believes. But she only believes what she wants to, for the moment. If you call that truthful, sheвАЩs truthful. IвАЩve nothing against her.вАЭ He said to himself: вАЬIвАЩm not going to appeal to her by damning my wife.вАЭ + 

She seemed to go all of a piece, as the hard outline goes suddenly out of a piece of lump sugar upon which you drop water. + 

вАЬOh,вАЭ she said, вАЬit isnвАЩt true. I knew it wasnвАЩt true.вАЭ She began to cry. + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬCome along. IвАЩve been answering tomfool questions all day. IвАЩve got another tomfool to see here, then IвАЩm through.вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬI canвАЩt come with you, crying like this.вАЭ + 

He answered: + 

вАЬOh, yes, you can. This is the place where women cry.вАЭ He added: вАЬBesides thereвАЩs Mark. HeвАЩs a comforting ass.вАЭ + 

He delivered her over to Mark. + 

вАЬHere, look after Miss Wannop,вАЭ he said. вАЬYou want to talk to her anyhow, donвАЩt you?вАЭ and he hurried ahead of them like a fussy shopwalker into the lugubrious hall. He felt that, if he didnвАЩt come soon to an unemotional ass in red, green, blue or pink tabs, who would have fishlike eyes and would ask the sort of questions that fishes ask in tanks, he, too, must break down and cry. With relief! However, that was a place where men cried, too! + 

He got through at once by sheer weight of personality, down miles of corridors, into the presence of a quite intelligent, thin, dark person with scarlet tabs. That meant a superior staff affair: not dustbins. + 

The dark man said to him at once: + 

вАЬLook here! WhatвАЩs the matter with the Command Depots? YouвАЩve been lecturing a lot of them. In economy. What are all these damn mutinies about? Is it the rotten old colonels in command?вАЭ + 

Tietjens said amiably: + 

вАЬLook here! IвАЩm not a beastly spy, you know? IвАЩve had hospitality from the rotten old colonels.вАЭ + 

The dark man said: + 

вАЬI daresay you have. But thatвАЩs what you were sent round for. General Campion said you were the brainiest chap in his command. HeвАЩs gone out now, worse luck.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ WhatвАЩs the matter with the Command Depots? Is it the men? Or is it the officers? You neednвАЩt mention names.вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬKind of Campion. It isnвАЩt the officers and it isnвАЩt the men. ItвАЩs the foul system. You get men who think theyвАЩve deserved well of their countryвБ†вАФand they damn well have!вБ†вАФand you crop their heads.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩs the M.O.вАЩs,вАЭ the dark man said. вАЬThey donвАЩt want lice.вАЭ + 

вАЬIf they prefer mutiniesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬA man wants to walk with his girl and have a properly oiled quiff. They donвАЩt like being regarded as convicts. ThatвАЩs how they are regarded.вАЭ + 

The dark man said: + 

вАЬAll right. Go on. Why donвАЩt you sit down?вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩm a little in a hurry,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬIвАЩm going out tomorrow and IвАЩve got a brother and people waiting below.вАЭ + 

The dark man said: + 

вАЬOh, IвАЩm sorry.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But damn. YouвАЩre the sort of man we want at home. Do you want to go? We can, no doubt, get you stopped if you donвАЩt.вАЭ + 

Tietjens hesitated for a moment. + 

вАЬYes!вАЭ he said eventually. вАЬYes, I want to go.вАЭ + 

For the moment he had felt temptation to stay. But it came into his discouraged mind that Mark had said that Sylvia was in love with him. It had been underneath his thoughts all the while: it had struck him at the time like a kick from the hind leg of a mule in his subliminal consciousness. It was the impossible complication. It might not be true; but whether or no the best thing for him was to go and get wiped out as soon as possible. He meant, nevertheless, fiercely, to have his night with the girl who was crying downstairs.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

He heard in his ear, perfectly distinctly, the lines: + 

вАЬThe voice that never yetвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Made answer to my wordвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He said to himself: + 

вАЬThat was what Sylvia wanted! IвАЩve got that much!вАЭ + 

The dark man had said something. Tietjens repeated: + 

вАЬIвАЩd take it very unkindly if you stopped my goingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I want to go.вАЭ + 

The dark man said: + 

вАЬSome do. Some do not. IвАЩll make a note of your name in case you come backвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You wonвАЩt mind going on with your cinder-sifting if you do?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Get on with your story as quick as you can. And get what fun you can before you go. They say itвАЩs rotten out there. Damn awful! ThereвАЩs a hell of a strafe on. ThatвАЩs why they want all you.вАЭ + 

For a moment Tietjens saw the grey dawn at railhead with the distant sound of a ceaselessly boiling pot, from miles away! The army feeling re-descended upon him. He began to talk about Command Depots, at great length and with enthusiasm. He snorted with rage at the way men were treated in these gloomy places. With ingenious stupidity! + 

Every now and then the dark man interrupted him with: + 

вАЬDonвАЩt forget that a Command Depot is a place where sick and wounded go to get made fit. WeвАЩve got to get вАЩem back as soon as we can.вАЭ + 

вАЬAnd do you?вАЭ Tietjens would ask. + 

вАЬNo, we donвАЩt,вАЭ the other would answer. вАЬThatвАЩs what this enquiry is about.вАЭ + 

вАЬYouвАЩve got,вАЭ Tietjens would continue, вАЬon the north side of a beastly clay hill nine miles from Southampton three thousand men from the Highlands, North Wales, Cumberland.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ God knows where, as long as itвАЩs three hundred miles from home to make them rather mad with nostalgia.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You allow вАЩem out for an hour a day during the pubвАЩs closing time: you shave their heads to prevent вАЩem appealing to local young women who donвАЩt exist, and you donвАЩt let вАЩem carry the swagger-canes! God knows why! To prevent their poking their eyes out, if they fall down, I suppose. Nine miles from anywhere, with chalk down roads to walk on and not a bush for shelter or shadeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And, damn it, if you get two men, chums, from the Seaforths or the Argylls you donвАЩt let them sleep in the same hut, but shove вАЩem in with a lot of fat Buffs or Welshmen, who stink of leeks and canвАЩt speak English.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩs the infernal medicalsвАЩ orders to stop вАЩem talking all night.вАЭ + 

вАЬTo make вАЩem conspire all night not to turn out for parade,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬAnd thereвАЩs a beastly mutiny begun.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And, damn it, theyвАЩre fine men. TheyвАЩre first-class fellows. Why donвАЩt youвБ†вАФas this is a Christian landвБ†вАФlet вАЩem go home to convalesce with their girls and pubs and friends and a little bit of swank, for heroes? Why in GodвАЩs name donвАЩt you? IsnвАЩt their suffering enough?вАЭ + 

вАЬI wish you wouldnвАЩt say вАШyou,вАЩвАКвАЭ the dark man said. вАЬIt isnвАЩt me. The only A.C.I. IвАЩve drafted was to give every Command Depot a cinema and a theatre. But the beastly medicals got it stoppedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for fear of infection. And, of course, the parsons and Nonconformist magistratesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬWell, youвАЩll have to change it all,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬor youвАЩll just have to say: thank God weвАЩve got a navy. You wonвАЩt have an army. The other day three fellowsвБ†вАФWarwicksвБ†вАФasked me at question time, after a lecture, why they were shut up there in Wiltshire whilst Belgian refugees were getting bastards on their wives in Birmingham. And when I asked how many men made that complaint over fifty stood up. All from Birmingham.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

The dark man said: + 

вАЬIвАЩll make a note of that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Go on.вАЭ + 

Tietjens went on; for as long as he stayed there he felt himself a man, doing work that befitted a man, with the bitter contempt for fools that a man should have and express. It was a letting up: a real last leave. + 

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. + 

V + 

Mark TietjensвАЩ announcement that his father had after all carried out his long-standing promise to provide for Mrs.¬†Wannop in such a way as to allow her to write for the rest of her life only the more lasting kind of work, delivered Valentine Wannop of all her problems except one. That one loomed, naturally and immediately, immensely large. + 

She had passed a queer, unnatural week, the feeling dominating its numbness having been, oddly, that she would have nothing to do on Friday! This feeling recurred to her whilst she was casting her eyes over a hundred girls all in their cloth jumpers and menвАЩs black ties, aligned upon asphalt; whilst she was jumping on trams; whilst she was purchasing the tinned or dried fish that formed the staple diet of herself and her mother; whilst she was washing-up the dinner-things; upbraiding the house agent for the state of the bath, or bending closely over the large but merciless handwriting of the novel of her motherвАЩs that she was typing. It came, half as a joy, half mournfully across her familiar businesses; she felt as a man might feel who, luxuriating in the anticipation of leisure, knew that it was obtained by being compulsorily retired from some laborious but engrossing job. There would be nothing to do on Fridays! + 

It was, too, as if a novel had been snatched out of her hand so that she would never know the end. Of the fairy tale she knew the end: the fortunate and adventurous tailor had married his beautiful and be-princessed goose girl, and was well on the way to burial in Westminster AbbeyвБ†вАФor at any rate to a memorial service, the squire being actually buried amongst his faithful villagers. But she would never know whether they, in the end, got together all the blue Dutch tiles they wanted to line their bathroomвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She would never know. Yet witnessing similar ambitions had made up a great deal of her life. + 

And, she said to herself, there was another tale ended. On the surface the story of her love for Tietjens had been static enough. It had begun in nothing and in nothing it had ended. But, deep down in her beingвБ†вАФah! it had progressed enough. Through the agency of two women! Before the scene with Mrs.¬†Duchemin there could, she thought, have been few young women less preoccupied than she with the sexual substrata, either of passion or of life. Her months as a domestic servant had accounted for that, sex, as she had seen it from a back kitchen, having been a repulsive affair, whilst the knowledge of its manifestations that she had thus attained had robbed it of the mystery which caused most of the young women whom she knew to brood upon these subjects. + 

Her conviction as to the moral incidence of sex were, she knew, quite opportunist. Brought up amongst rather вАЬadvancedвАЭ young people, had she been publicly challenged to pronounce her views she would probably, out of loyalty to her comrades, have declared that neither morality nor any ethical aspects were concerned in the matter. Like most of her young friends, influenced by the advanced teachers and tendential novelists of the day, she would have stated herself to advocate anвБ†вАФof course, enlightened!вБ†вАФpromiscuity. That, before the revelations of Mrs.¬†Duchemin! Actually she had thought very little about the matter. + 

Nevertheless, even before that date, had her deeper feelings been questioned she would have reacted with the idea that sexual incontinence was extremely ugly and chastity to be prized in the egg and spoon race that life was. She had been brought up by her fatherвБ†вАФwho, perhaps, was wiser than appeared on the surfaceвБ†вАФto admire athleticism, and she was aware that proficiency of the body calls for chastity, sobriety, cleanliness and the various qualities that group themselves under the heading of abnegation. She couldnвАЩt have lived amongst the Ealing servant-classвБ†вАФthe eldest son of the house in which she had been employed had been the defendant in a peculiarly scabrous breach of promise case, and the comments of the drunken cook on this and similar affairs had run the whole gamut from the sentimentally reticent to the extreme of coarseness according to the state of her alcoholic barometerвБ†вАФshe couldnвАЩt then have lived among the Ealing servant-class and come to any other subliminal conclusion. So that, dividing the world into bright beings on the one hand and, on the other, into the mere stuff to fill graveyards whose actions during life couldnвАЩt matter, she had considered that the bright beings must be people whose public advocating of enlightened promiscuity went along with an absolute continence. She was aware that enlightened beings occasionally fell away from these standards in order to become portentous Egerias; but the Mary Wollstonecrafts, the Mrs.¬†Taylors, and the George Eliots of the last century she had regarded humorously as rather priggish nuisances. Indeed, being very healthy and very hard worked, she had been in the habit of regarding the whole matter, if not humorously, then at least good-humouredly, as a nuisance. + 

But being brought right up against the sexual necessities of a first-class Egeria had been for her a horrible affair. For Mrs.¬†Duchemin had revealed the fact that her circumspect, continent and suavely aesthetic personality was doubled by another at least as coarse as, and infinitely more incisive in expression, than that of the drunken cook. The language that she had used about her loverвБ†вАФcalling him always вАЬthat oafвАЭ or вАЬthat beastвАЭ!вБ†вАФhad seemed literally to pain the girl internally, as if it had caused so many fallings away of internal supports at each two or three words. She had hardly been able to walk home through the darkness from the rectory. + 

And she had never heard what had become of Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs baby. Next day Mrs.¬†Duchemin had been as suave, as circumspect, and as collected as ever. Never a word more had passed between them on the subject. This left in Valentine WannopвАЩs mind a dark patchвБ†вАФas it were of murderвБ†вАФat which she must never look. And across the darkened world of her sexual tumult there flitted continually the quick suspicion that Tietjens might have been the lover of her friend. It was a matter of the simplest analogy. Mrs.¬†Duchemin had appeared a bright being: so had Tietjens. But Mrs.¬†Duchemin was a foul whore.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ How much more then must Tietjens, who was a man, with the larger sexual necessities of the maleвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Her mind always refused to complete the thought. + 

Its suggestion wasnвАЩt to be combated by the idea of Vincent Macmaster himself: he was, she felt, the sort of man that it was almost a necessity for either mistress or comrade to betray. He seemed to ask for it. Besides, she once put it to herself, how could any woman, given the choice and the opportunityвБ†вАФand God knows there was opportunity enoughвБ†вАФchoose that shadowy, dried leaf, if there were the splendid masculinity of Tietjens in whose arms to lie. She so regarded these two men. And that shadowy conviction was at once fortified and appeased when, a little later, Mrs.¬†Duchemin herself began to apply to Tietjens the epithets of вАЬoafвАЭ and вАЬbeastвАЭвБ†вАФthe very ones that she had used to designate the father of her putative child! + 

But then Tietjens must have abandoned Mrs.¬†Duchemin; and, if he had abandoned Mrs.¬†Duchemin, he must be available for her, Valentine Wannop! The feeling, she considered, made her ignoble; but it came from depths of her being that she could not control and, existing, it soothed her. Then, with the coming of the war, the whole problem died out, and between the opening of hostilities and what she had known to be the inevitable departure of her lover, she had surrendered herself to what she thought to be the pure physical desire for him. Amongst the terrible, crashing anguishes of that time, there had been nothing for it but surrender! With the unceasingвБ†вАФthe never ceasingвБ†вАФthought of suffering; with the never ceasing idea that her lover, too, must soon be so suffering, there was in the world no other refuge. No other! + 

She surrendered. She waited for him to speak the word, or look the look that should unite them. She was finished. Chastity: napoo finny! Like everything else! + 

Of the physical side of love she had neither image nor conception. In the old days when she had been with him, if he had come into the room in which she was, or if he had merely been known to be coming down to the village, she had hummed all day under her breath and had felt warmer, little currents passing along her skin. She had read somewhere that to take alcohol was to send the blood into the surface vessels of the body, thus engendering a feeling of warmth. She had never taken alcohol, or not enough to produce recognisably that effect; but she imagined that it was thus love worked upon the bodyвБ†вАФand that it would stop forever at that! + 

But, in these later days, much greater convulsions had overwhelmed her. It sufficed for Tietjens to approach her to make her feel as if her whole body was drawn towards him as, being near a terrible height, you are drawn towards it. Great waves of blood rushed across her being as if physical forces as yet undiscovered or invented attracted the very fluid itself. The moon so draws the tides. + 

Once before, for a fraction of a second, after the long, warm night of their drive, she had felt that impulsion. Now, years after, she was to know it all the time, waking or half waking; and it would drive her from her bed. She would stand all night at the open window till the stars paled above a world turned grey. It could convulse her with joy; it could shake her with sobs and cut through her breast like a knife. + 

The day of her long interview with Tietjens, amongst the amassed beauties of Macmaster furnishings, she marked in the calendar of her mind as her great love scene. That had been two years ago: he had been going into the army. Now he was going out again. From that she knew what a love scene was. It passed without any mention of the word вАЬloveвАЭ; it passed in impulses; warmths; rigors of the skin. Yet with every word they had said to each other they had confessed their love; in that way, when you listen to the nightingale you hear the expressed craving of your lover beating upon your heart. + 

Every word that he had spoken amongst the amassed beauties of Macmaster furnishings had been a link in a love-speech. It was not merely that he had confessed to her as he would have to no other soul in the worldвБ†вАФвАЬTo no other soul in the world,вАЭ he had said!вБ†вАФhis doubts, his misgivings and his fears: it was that every word he uttered and that came to her, during the lasting of that magic, had sung of passion. If he had uttered the word вАЬComeвАЭ she would have followed him to the bitter ends of the earth; if he had said, вАЬThere is no hope,вАЭ she would have known the finality of despair. Having said neither he said, she knew: вАЬThis is our condition; so we must continue!вАЭ And she knew, too, that he was telling her that he, like her, wasвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, say on the side of the angels. She was then, she knew, so nicely balanced that, had he said, вАЬWill you tonight be my mistress?вАЭ she would have said вАЬYesвАЭ; for it was as if they had been, really, at the end of the world. + 

But his abstention not only strengthened her in her predilection for chastity; it restored to her her image of the world as a place of virtues and endeavours. For a time at least she again hummed beneath her breath upon occasion, for it seemed as if her heart sang within her. And there was restored to her her image of her lover as a beautiful spirit. She had been able to look at him across the tea-table of their dog kennel in Bedford Park, during the last months, almost as she had looked across the more shining table of the cottage near the rectory. The deterioration that she knew Mrs.¬†Duchemin to have worked in her mind was assuaged. It could even occur to her that Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs madness had been no more than a scare to be followed by no necessary crime. Valentine Wannop had re-become her confident self in a world of at least straight problems. + 

But Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs outbreak of a week ago had driven the old phantoms across her mind. For Mrs.¬†Duchemin she had still had a great respect. She could not regard her Edith Ethel as merely a hypocrite; or, indeed, as a hypocrite at all. There was her great achievement of making something like a man of that miserable little creatureвБ†вАФas there had been her other great achievement of keeping her unfortunate husband for so long out of a lunatic asylum. That had been no mean feat; neither feat had been mean. And Valentine knew that Edith Ethel really loved beauty, circumspection, urbanity. It was no hypocrisy that made her advocate the Atalanta race of chastity. But, also, as Valentine Wannop saw it, humanity has these doublings of strong natures; just as the urbane and grave Spanish nation must find its outlet in the shrieking lusts of the bullring or the circumspect, laborious and admirable city typist must find her derivative in the cruder lusts of certain novelists, so Edith Ethel must break down into physical sexualitiesвБ†вАФand into shrieked coarseness of fishwives. How else, indeed, do we have saints? Surely, alone, by the ultimate victory of the one tendency over the other! + 

But now after her farewell scene with Edith Ethel a simple rearrangement of the pattern had brought many of the old doubts at least temporarily back. Valentine said to herself that, just because of the very strength of her character, Edith Ethel couldnвАЩt have been brought down to uttering her fantastic denunciation of Tietjens, the merely mad charges of debauchery and excesses and finally the sexually lunatic charge against herself, except under the sting of some such passion as jealousy. She, Valentine, couldnвАЩt arrive at any other conclusion. And, viewing the matter as she believed she now did, more composedly, she considered with seriousness that, men being what they are, her lover respecting, or despairing of, herself had relieved the grosser necessities of his beingвБ†вАФat the expense of Mrs.¬†Duchemin, who had, no doubt, been only too ready. + 

And in certain moods during the past week she had accepted this suspicion; in certain other moods she had put it from her. Towards the Thursday it had no longer seemed to matter. Her lover was going from her; the long pull of the war was on; the hard necessities of life stretched out; what could an infidelity more or less matter in the long, hard thing that life is. And on the Thursday two minor, or major, worries came to disturb her level. Her brother announced himself as coming home for several daysвАЩ leave, and she had the trouble of thinking that she would have forced upon her a companionship and a point of view that would be coarsely and uproariously opposed to anything that Tietjens stood forвБ†вАФor for which he was ready to sacrifice himself. Moreover she would have to accompany her brother to a number of riotous festivities whilst all the time she would have to think of Tietjens as getting hour by hour nearer to the horrible circumstances of troops in contact with enemy forces. In addition her mother had received an enviably paid-for commission from one of the more excitable Sunday papers to write a series of articles on extravagant matters connected with the hostilities. They had wanted the money so dreadfullyвБ†вАФmore particularly as Edward was coming homeвБ†вАФthat Valentine Wannop had conquered her natural aversion from the waste of time of her mother.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It would have meant very little waste of time, and the ¬£60 that it would have brought in would have made all the difference to them for months and months. + 

But Tietjens, whom Mrs.¬†Wannop had come to rely on as her right hand man in these matters, had, it appeared, shown an unexpected recalcitrancy. He had, Mrs.¬†Wannop said, hardly seemed himself and had gibed at the two first subjects proposedвБ†вАФthat of вАЬwar babiesвАЭ and the fact that the Germans were reduced to eating their own corpsesвБ†вАФas being below the treatment of any decent pen. The illegitimacy rate, he had said, had shown very little increase; the French-derived German word Cadaver meant bodies of horses or cattle; Leichnam being the German for the word вАЬcorpse.вАЭ He had practically refused to have anything to do with the affair. + 

As to the Cadaver business Valentine agreed with him; as to the вАЬwar babiesвАЭ she kept a more open mind. If there werenвАЩt any war babies it couldnвАЩt, as far as she could see, matter whether one wrote about them; it couldnвАЩt certainly matter as much as to write about them, supposing the poor little things to exist. She was aware that this was immoral, and her mother needed the money desperately and her mother came first. + 

There was nothing for it, therefore, but to plead with Tietjens, for Valentine knew that without so much of moral support from him as would be implied by a good-natured, or an enforced sanction of the article, Mrs.¬†Wannop would drop the matter and so would lose her connection with the excitable paper which paid well. It happened that on the Friday morning Mrs.¬†Wannop received a request that she would write for a Swiss review a propaganda article about some historical matter connected with the peace after Waterloo. The pay would be practically nothing, but the employment was at least relatively dignified, and Mrs.¬†WannopвБ†вАФwhich was quite in the ordinary course of things!вБ†вАФtold Valentine to ring Tietjens up and ask him for some details about the Congress of Vienna at which, before and after Waterloo, the peace terms had been wrangled out. + 

Valentine rang upвБ†вАФas she had done hundreds of times; it was to her a great satisfaction that she was going to hear Tietjens speak once more at least. The telephone was answered from the other end, and Valentine gave her two messages, the one as to the Congress of Vienna, the other as to war babies. The appalling speech came back: + 

вАЬYoung woman! YouвАЩd better keep off the grass. Mrs.¬†Duchemin is already my husbandвАЩs mistress. You keep off.вАЭ There was about the voice no human quality; it was as if from an immense darkness the immense machine had spoken words that dealt blows. She answered; and it was as if a substratum of her mind of which she knew nothing must have been prepared for that very speech; so that it was not her own вАЬsheвАЭ that answered levelly and coolly: + 

вАЬYou have probably mistaken the person you are speaking to. Perhaps you will ask Mr.¬†Tietjens to ring up Mrs.¬†Wannop when he is at liberty.вАЭ + 

The voice said: + 

вАЬMy husband will be at the War Office at 4:15. He will speak to you thereвБ†вАФabout your war babies. But IвАЩd keep off the grass if I were you!вАЭ The receiver at the other end was hung up. + 

She went about her daily duties. She had heard of a kind of pine kernel that was very cheap and very nourishing, or at least very filling. They had come to it that it was a matter of pennies balanced against the feeling of satiety, and she visited several shops in search of this food. When she had found it she returned to the dog kennel; her brother Edward had arrived. He was rather subdued. He brought with him a piece of meat which was part of his leave ration. He occupied himself with polishing up his sailorвАЩs uniform for a ragtime party to which they were to go that evening. They were to meet plenty of conchies, he said. Valentine put the meatвБ†вАФit was a Godsend, though very stringy!вБ†вАФon to stew with a number of chopped vegetables. She went up to her room to do some typing for her mother. + 

The nature of TietjensвАЩ wife occupied her mind. Before, she had barely thought about her: she had seemed unreal; so mysterious as to be a myth! Radiant and high-stepping: like a great stag! But she must be cruel! She must be vindictively cruel to Tietjens himself, or she could not have revealed his private affairs! Just broadcast; for she could not, bluff it how she might, have been certain of to whom she was speaking! A thing that wasnвАЩt done! But she had delivered her cheek to Mrs.¬†Wannop; a thing, too, that wasnвАЩt done! Yet so kindly! The telephone bell rang several times during the morning. She let her mother answer it. + 

She had to get the dinner, which took three-quarters of an hour. It was a pleasure to see her mother eat so well; a good stew, rich and heavy with haricot beans. She herself couldnвАЩt eat, but no one noticed, which was a good thing. Her mother said that Tietjens had not yet telephoned, which was very inconsiderate. Edward said: вАЬWhat! The Huns havenвАЩt killed old Feather Bolster yet? But of course heвАЩs been found a safe job.вАЭ The telephone on the sideboard became a terror to Valentine; at any moment his voice mightвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Edward went on telling anecdotes of how they bamboozled petty officers on minesweepers. Mrs.¬†Wannop listened to him with the courteous, distant interest of the great listening to commercial travellers. Edward desired draught ale and produced a two shilling piece. He seemed very much coarsened; it was, no doubt, only on the surface. In these days everyone was very much coarsened on the surface. + 

She went with a quart jug to the jug and bottle department of the nearest public-houseвБ†вАФa thing she had never done before. Even at Ealing the mistress hadnвАЩt allowed her to be sent to a public-house; the cook had had to fetch her dinner beer herself or have it sent in. Perhaps the Ealing mistress had exercised more surveillance than Valentine had believed; a kind woman, but an invalid. Nearly all day in bed. Blind passion overcame Valentine at the thought of Edith Ethel in TietjensвАЩ arms. HadnвАЩt she got her own eunuch? Mrs.¬†Tietjens had said: вАЬMrs.¬†Duchemin is his mistress!вАЭ Is! Then she might be there now! + 

In the contemplation of that image she missed the thrills of buying beer in a bottle and jug department. Apparently it was like buying anything else, except for the smell of beer on the sawdust. You said: вАЬA quart of the best bitter!вАЭ and a fat, quite polite man, with an oily head and a white apron, took your money and filled your jug.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But Edith Ethel had abused Tietjens so foully! The more foully the more certain it made it!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Draught beer in a jug had little marblings of burst foam on its brown surface. It mustnвАЩt be split at the kerbs of crossings!вБ†вАФthe more certain it made it! Some women did so abuse their lovers after sleeping with them, and the more violent the transports the more frantic the abuse. It was the вАЬpost-dash-tristiaвАЭ of the Rev. Duchemin! Poor devil! Tristia! Tristia! + 

Terra tribus scopulis vastumвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Not longum! + 

Brother Edward began communing with himself, long and unintelligibly as to where he should meet his sister at 19:30 and give her a blowout! The names of restaurants fell from his lips into her panic. He decided hilariously and not quite steadilyвБ†вАФa quart is a lot to a fellow from a minesweeper carrying no booze at all!вБ†вАФon meeting her at 7:20 at High Street and going to a pub he knew; they would go on to the dance afterwards. In a studio. вАЬOh, God!вАЭ her heart said, вАЬif Tietjens should want her then!вАЭ To be his; on his last night. He might! Everybody was coarsened then; on the surface. Her brother rolled out of the house, slamming the door so that every tile on the jerry-built dog kennel rose and sat down again. + 

She went upstairs and began to look over her frocks. She couldnвАЩt tell what frocks she looked over; they lay like aligned rags on the bed, the telephone bell ringing madly. She heard her motherвАЩs voice, suddenly assuaged: вАЬOh! oh!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs you!вАЭ She shut her door and began to pull open and to close drawer after drawer. As soon as she ceased that exercise her motherвАЩs voice became half audible; quite audible when she raised it to ask a question. She heard her say: вАЬNot get her into troubleвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Of course!вАЭ then it died away into mere high sounds. + 

She heard her mother calling: + 

вАЬValentine! Valentine! Come down.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ DonвАЩt you want to speak to Christopher?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Valentine! Valentine!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ And then another burst: вАЬValentineвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ValentineвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ValentineвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ As if she had been a puppy dog! Mrs.¬†Wannop, thank God, was on the lowest step of the creaky stairs. She had left the telephone. She called up: + 

вАЬCome down. I want to tell you! The dear boy has saved me! He always saves me! What shall I do now heвАЩs gone?вАЭ + 

вАЬHe saved others: himself he could not save!вАЭ Valentine quoted bitterly. She caught up her wideawake. She wasnвАЩt going to prink herself for him. He must take her as she was.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Himself he could not save! But he did himself proud! With women!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Coarsened! But perhaps only on the surface! She herself!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She was running downstairs! + 

Her mother had retreated into the little parlour: nine feet by nine; in consequence, at ten feet it was too tall for its size. But there was in it a sofa with cushions.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ With her head upon those cushions, perhaps.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If he came home with her! Late!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Her mother was saying: HeвАЩs a splendid fellow.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A root idea for a war baby article.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If a Tommy was a decent fellow he abstained because he didnвАЩt want to leave his girl in trouble.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If he wasnвАЩt he chanced it because it might be his last chance.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

вАЬA message to me!вАЭ Valentine said to herself. вАЬBut which sentence.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She moved, absently, all the cushions to one end of the sofa. Her mother exclaimed: + 

вАЬHe sent his love! His mother was lucky to have such a son!вАЭ and turned into her tiny hole of a study. + 

Valentine ran down over the broken tiles of the garden path, pulling her wideawake firmly on. She had looked at her wrist watch; it was two and twelve: 14:45. If she was to walk to the War Office by 4:15вБ†вАФ16:15вБ†вАФa sensible innovation!вБ†вАФshe must step out. Five miles to Whitehall. God knows what, then! Five miles back! Two and a half, diagonally, to High Street Station by half-past 19! Twelve and a half miles in five hours or less. And three hours dancing on the top of it. And to dress!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She needed to be fitвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And, with violent bitterness, she said: + 

вАЬWell! IвАЩm fit.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She had an image of the aligned hundred of girls in blue jumpers and menвАЩs ties keeping whom fit had kept her super-fit. She wondered how many of them would be menвАЩs mistresses before the year was out. It was August then. But perhaps none! Because she had kept them fit.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

вАЬAh!вАЭ she said, вАЬif I had been a loose woman, with flaccid breasts and a soft body. All perfumed!вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But neither Sylvia Tietjens nor Ethel Duchemin were soft. They might be scented on occasion! But they could not contemplate with equanimity doing a twelve-mile walk to save a few pence and dancing all night on top of it! She could! And perhaps the price she paid was just that; she was in such hard condition she hadnвАЩt moved him toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She perhaps exhaled such an aura of sobriety, chastity and abstinence as to suggest to him thatвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ that a decent fellow didnвАЩt get his girl into trouble before going to be killed.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Yet if he were such a town bull!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She wondered how she knew such phrases.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

The sordid and aligned houses seemed to rush past her in the mean August sunshine. That was because if you thought hard time went quicker; or because after you noticed the paper shop at this corner you would be up to the boxes of onions outside the shop of the next corner before you noticed anything else. + 

She was in Kensington Gardens, on the north side; she had left the poor shops behind.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ In sham country, with sham lawns, sham avenues, sham streams. Sham people pursuing their ways across the sham grass. Or no! Not sham! In a vacuum! No! вАЬPasteurizedвАЭ was the word! Like dead milk. Robbed of their vitamins.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

If she saved a few coppers by walking it would make a larger pile to put into the leeringвБ†вАФor compassionateвБ†вАФtaxicabmanвАЩs hand after he had helped her support her brother into the dog kennel door. Edward would be dead drunk. She had fifteen shillings for the taxi.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If she gave a few coppers more it seemed generous.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What a day to look forward to still! Some days were lifetimes! + 

She would rather die than let Tietjens pay for the cab! + 

Why? Once a taximan had refused payment for driving her and Edward all the way to Chiswick, and she hadnвАЩt felt insulted. She had paid him; but she hadnвАЩt felt insulted! A sentimental fellow; touched at the heart by the pretty sisterвБ†вАФor perhaps he didnвАЩt really believe it was a sisterвБ†вАФand her incapable bluejacket brother! Tietjens was a sentimental fellow too.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What was the difference?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And then! The mother a dead, heavy sleeper; the brother dead drunk. One in the morning! He couldnвАЩt refuse her! Blackness: cushions! She had arranged the cushions, she remembered. Arranged them subconsciously! Blackness! Heavy sleep; dead drunkenness!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Horrible!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A disgusting affair! An affair of Ealing.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It shall make her one with all the stuff to fill graveyards.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Well, what else was she, Valentine Wannop: daughter of her father? And of her mother? Yes! But she herselfвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Just a little nobody! + 

They were no doubt wirelessing from the Admiralty.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But her brother was at home, or getting a little more intoxicated and talking treason. At any rate the flickering intermittences over the bitter seas couldnвАЩt for the moment concern him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ That bus touched her skirt as she ran for the island.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It might have been better.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But one hadnвАЩt the courage! + 

She was looking at patterned deaths under a little green roof, such as they put over bird shelters. Her heart stopped! Before, she had been breathless! She was going mad. She was dying.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ All these deaths! And not merely the deaths.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The waiting for the approach of death; the contemplation of the parting from life! This minute you were; that, and you werenвАЩt! What was it like? Oh heaven, she knew.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She stood there contemplating parting fromвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ One minute you were; the nextвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Her breath fluttered in her chest.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Perhaps he wouldnвАЩt comeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

He was immediately framed by the sordid stones. She ran upon him and said something; with a mad hatred. All these deaths and he and his like responsible!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He had apparently a brother, a responsible one too! Browner complexioned!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But he! He! He! He! completely calm; with direct eyes.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It wasnвАЩt possible. вАЬHolde Lippen: klare Augen: heller Sinn.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Oh, a little bit wilted, the clear intellect! And the lips? No doubt too. But he couldnвАЩt look at you so, unlessвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

She caught him fiercely by the arm; for the moment he belongedвБ†вАФmore than to any browner, mere civilian, brother!вБ†вАФto her! She was going to ask him! If he answered: вАЬYes! I am such a man!вАЭ she was going to say: вАЬThen you must take me too! If them, why not me? I must have a child. I too!вАЭ She desired a child. She would overwhelm these hateful lodestones with a flood of argument; she imaginedвБ†вАФshe feltвБ†вАФthe words going between her lips.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She imagined her fainting mind; her consenting limbs.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

His looks were wandering round the cornice of these stone buildings. Immediately she was Valentine Wannop again; it needed no word from him. Words passed, but words could no more prove an established innocence than words can enhance a love that exists. He might as well have recited the names of railway stations. His eyes, his unconcerned face, his tranquil shoulders; they were what acquitted him. The greatest love speech he had ever and could ever make her was when, harshly and angrily, he said something like: + 

вАЬCertainly not. I imagined you knew me betterвАЭвБ†вАФbrushing her aside as if she had been a midge. And, thank God, he had hardly listened to her! + 

She was Valentine Wannop again; in the sunlight the chaffinches said вАЬPink! pink!вАЭ The seed-heads of the tall grasses were brushing against her skirt. She was clean-limbed, clearheaded.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was just a problem whether Sylvia Tietjens was good to him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Good for him was, perhaps, the more exact way of putting it. Her mind cleared, like water that goes off the boil.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬWaters stilled at even.вАЭ Nonsense. It was sunlight, and he had an adorable brother! He could save his brother. Transport! There was another meaning to the word. A warm feeling settled down upon her; this was her brother; the next to the best ever! It was as if you had matched a piece of stuff so nearly with another piece of stuff as to make no odds. Yet just not the real stuff! She must be grateful to this relative for all he did for her; yet, ah, never so grateful as to the otherвБ†вАФwho had done nothing! + 

Providence is kind in great batches! She heard, mounting the steps, the blessed word Transport! вАЬThey,вАЭ so Mark said: he and sheвБ†вАФthe family feeling againвБ†вАФwere going to get Christopher into the Transport.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ By the kindness of God the First Line Transport was the only branch of the services of which Valentine knew anything. Their charwoman, who could not read and write, had a son, a sergeant in a line regiment. вАЬHooray!вАЭ he had written to his mother, вАЬIвАЩve been off my feed; recommended for the D.C.M. too. So theyвАЩre putting me senior N.C.O. of First Line Transport for a rest; the safest soft job of the whole bally front line caboodle!вАЭ Valentine had had to read this letter in the scullery amongst black-beetles. Aloud! She had hated reading it as she had hated reading anything that gave details of the front line. But charity begins surely with the char! She had had to. Now she could thank God. The sergeant, in direct, perfectly sincere language, to comfort his mother, had described his daily work, detailing horses and G.S. limber wagons for jobs and superintending the horse-standings. вАЬWhy,вАЭ one sentence ran, вАЬour O.C. Transport is one of those fishing lunatics. Wherever we go he has a space of grass cleared out and pegged and bвБ†вЄЇвБ†y hell to the man who walks across it!вАЭ There the O.C. practised casting with trout and salmon rods by the hour together. вАЬThatвАЩll show you what a soft job it is!вАЭ the sergeant had finished triumphantly.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

So that there she, Valentine Wannop, sat on a hard bench against a wall; downright, healthy middle-classвБ†вАФor perhaps upper middle-classвБ†вАФfor the Wannops were, if impoverished, yet of ancient family! Over her sensible, moccasined shoes the tide of humanity flowed before her hard bench. There were two commissionaires, the one always benevolent, the other perpetually querulous, in a pulpit on one side of her; on the other, a brown-visaged sort of brother-in-law with bulging eyes, who in his shy efforts to conciliate her was continually trying to thrust into his mouth the crook of his umbrella. As if it had been a knob. She could not, at the moment, imagine why he should want to conciliate her; but she knew she would know in a minute. + 

For just then she was occupied with a curious pattern; almost mathematically symmetrical. Now she was an English middle-class girlвБ†вАФwhose mother had a sufficient incomeвБ†вАФin blue cloth, a wideawake hat, a black silk tie; without a thought in her head that she shouldnвАЩt have. And with a man who loved her: of crystal purity. Not ten, not five minutes ago, she had beenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She could not even remember what she had been! And he had been, he had assuredly appeared a townвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No, she could not think the words.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A raging stallion then! If now he should approach her, by the mere movement of a hand along the table, she would retreat. + 

It was a Godsend; yet it was absurd. Like the weather machine of the old man and the old woman on opposite ends of the stick.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ When the old man came out the old woman went in and it would rain; when the old woman came outвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was exactly like that! She hadnвАЩt time to work out the analogy. But it was like that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ In rainy weather the whole world altered. Darkened!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The catgut that turned them slackenedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ slackened.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But, always, they remained at opposite ends of the stick! + 

Mark was saying, the umbrella crook hindering his utterance: + 

вАЬWe buy then an annuity of five hundred for your mother.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

It was astonishing, though it spread tranquillity through her, how little this astonished her. It was the merely retarded expected. Mr.¬†Tietjens senior, an honourable man, had promised as much years ago. Her mother, an august genius, was to wear herself out putting, Mr.¬†Tietjens alive, his political views in his paper. He was to make it up to her. He was making it up. In no princely fashion, but adequately, as a gentleman. + 

Mark Tietjens, bending over, held a piece of paper. A bellboy came up to him and said: вАЬMr.¬†Riccardo!вАЭ Mark Tietjens said: вАЬNo! HeвАЩs gone!вАЭ He continued: + 

вАЬYour brother.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Shelved for the moment. But enough to buy a practice, a good practice! When heвАЩs a full-fledged sawbones.вАЭ He stopped, he directed upon her his atrabilarian eyes, biting his umbrella handle; he was extremely nervous. + 

вАЬNow you!вАЭ he said. вАЬTwo or three hundred. A year of course! The capital absolutely your own.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He paused: вАЬBut I warn you! Christopher wonвАЩt like it. HeвАЩs got his knife into me. I wouldnвАЩt grudge youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, any sum!вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He waved his hand to indicate an amount boundless in its figures. вАЬI know you keep Christopher straight,вАЭ he said. вАЬThe only person that could!вАЭ He added: вАЬPoor devil!вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬHeвАЩs got his knife into you? Why?вАЭ + 

He answered vaguely: + 

вАЬOh, thereвАЩs been all this talk.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Untrue, of course.вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬPeople have been saying things against you? To him? Perhaps because thereвАЩs been delay in settling the estate.вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬOh, no! The other way round, in fact!вАЭ + 

вАЬThen they have been saying,вАЭ she exclaimed, вАЬthings againstвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ against me. And him!вАЭ + 

He exclaimed in anguish: + 

вАЬOh, but I ask you to believeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I beg you to believe that I believeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you! Miss Wannop!вАЭ He added grotesquely: вАЬAs pure as dew that lies within AuroraвАЩs sun-tippedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His eyes stuck out like those of a suffocating fish. He said: вАЬI beg you not on that account to hand the giddy mitten toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He writhed in his tight double collar. вАЬHis wife,вАЭ he said, вАЬвА¶¬†sheвАЩs no good toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ SheвАЩs soppily in love with him. But no goodвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He very nearly sobbed. вАЬYouвАЩve the onlyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ he said, вАЬI knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

It came into her head that she was losing too much time in this Salle des Pas Perdus! She would have to take the train home! Fivepence! But what did it matter. Her mother had five hundred a year.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Two hundred and forty times five.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Mark said brightly: + 

вАЬIf now we bought your mother an annuity of five hundred.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You say thatвАЩs ample to give Christopher his chop.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And settled on her threeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ fourвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I like to be exactвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ hundred a year.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The capital of it: with remainder to youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His interrogative face beamed. + 

She saw now the whole situation with perfect plainness. She understood Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs: + 

вАЬYou couldnвАЩt expect us, with our official positionвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ to conniveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Edith Ethel had been perfectly right. She couldnвАЩt be expected.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She had worked too hard to appear circumspect and right! You canвАЩt ask people to lay down their whole lives for their friends!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was only of Tietjens you could ask that! She saidвБ†вАФto Mark: + 

вАЬItвАЩs as if the whole world had conspiredвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ like a carpenterвАЩs voiceвБ†вАФto force usвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ she was going to say вАЬtogether.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ But he burst in, astonishingly: + 

вАЬHe must have his buttered toastвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and his mutton chopвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and Rhum St.¬†James!вАЭ He said: вАЬDamn it all.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You were made for him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You canвАЩt blame people for coupling you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ TheyвАЩre forced to it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If you hadnвАЩt existed theyвАЩd have had to invent youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Like Dante forвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ who was it?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Beatrice? There are couples like that.вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬLike a carpenterвАЩs vise.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Pushed together. Irresistibly. HavenвАЩt we resisted?вАЭ + 

His face became panic-stricken; his bulging eyes pushed away towards the pulpit of the two commissionaires. He whispered: + 

вАЬYou wonвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ because of my oxвАЩs hoofвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ desert.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said:вБ†вАФshe heard Macmaster whispering it hoarsely. + 

вАЬI ask you to believe that I will neverвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ abandonвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

It was what Macmaster had said. He must have got it from Mrs.¬†Micawber! + 

Christopher TietjensвБ†вАФin his shabby khaki, for his wife had spoilt his best uniformвБ†вАФsaid suddenly from behind her back, since he had approached her from beyond the pulpit of the two commissionaires and she had been turned towards Mark on his bench: + 

вАЬCome along! LetвАЩs get out of this!вАЭ He was, she asked herself, getting out of this! Towards what? + 

Like mutes from a funeralвБ†вАФor as if she had been, between the brothers, a prisoner under escortвБ†вАФthey walked down steps; half righted towards the exit arch; one and a half righted to face Whitehall. The brothers grunted inaudible but satisfied sounds over her head. They crossed, by the islands, Whitehall, where the bus had brushed her skirt. Under an archwayвБ†вАФ + 

In a stony, gravelled majestic space the brothers faced each other. Mark said: + 

вАЬI suppose you wonвАЩt shake hands!вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬNo! Why should I?вАЭ She herself had cried out to Christopher: + 

вАЬOh, do!вАЭ (The wireless squares overhead no longer concerned her. Her brother was, no doubt, getting drunk in a bar in Piccadilly.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A surface coarseness!) + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬHadnвАЩt you better? You might get killed! A fellow just getting killed would not like to think he had refused to shake his brother by the hand!вАЭ + 

Christopher had said: вАЬOhвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ well!вАЭ + 

During her happiness over this hyperborean sentimentality he had gripped her thin upper arm. He had led her past swansвБ†вАФor possibly huts; she never remembered whichвБ†вАФto a seat that had over it, or near it, a weeping willow. He had said, gasping, too, like a fish: + 

вАЬWill you be my mistress tonight? I am going out tomorrow at 8:30 from Waterloo.вАЭ + 

She had answered: + 

вАЬYes! Be at such and such a studio just before twelve.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I have to see my brother home.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He will be drunk.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She meant to say: вАЬOh, my darling, I have wanted you so much.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said instead: + 

вАЬI have arranged the cushions.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said to herself: + 

вАЬNow whatever made me say that? ItвАЩs as if I had said: вАШYouвАЩll find the ham in the larder under a plate.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЩ No tenderness about it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She went away, up a cockle-shelled path, between ankle-high railings, crying bitterly. An old tramp, with red weeping eyes and a thin white beard, regarded her curiously from where he lay on the grass. He imagined himself the monarch of that landscape. + 

вАЬThatвАЩs women!вАЭ he said with the apparently imbecile enigmaticality of the old and the hardened. вАЬSome do!вАЭ He spat into the grass; said: вАЬAh!вАЭ then added: вАЬSome do not!вАЭ + 

VI + 

He let himself in at the heavy door; when he closed it behind him, in the darkness, the heaviness of the door sent long surreptitious whisperings up the great stone stairs. These sounds irritated him. If you shut a heavy door on an enclosed space it will push air in front of it and there will be whisperings; the atmosphere of mystery was absurd. He was just a man, returning after a night out.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Two-thirds, say, of a night out! It must be half-past three. But what the night had lacked in length it had made up in fantastic aspects.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

He laid his cane down on the invisible oak chest and, through the tangible and velvety darkness that had always in it the chill of the stone of walls and stairs, he felt for the handle of the breakfast-room door. + 

Three long parallelograms existed: pale glimmerings above, cut two-thirds of the way down by the serrations of chimney pot and roof-shadows! Nine full paces across the heavy piled carpet; then he ought to reach his round-backed chair, by the left-hand window. He reached his round-backed chair by the left-hand window. He sank into it; it fitted exactly his back. He imagined that no man had ever been so tired and that no man had ever been so alone! A small, alive sound existed at the other end of the room; in front of him existed one and a half pale parallelograms. They were the reflection of the windows of the mirror; the sound was no doubt Calton, the cat. Something alive, at any rate! Possibly Sylvia at the other end of the room, waiting for him, to see what he looked like. Most likely! It didnвАЩt matter! + 

His mind stopped! Sheer weariness! + 

When it went on again it was saying: + 

вАЬNaked shingles and surges drearвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ and, вАЬOn these debatable borders of the world!вАЭ He said sharply: вАЬNonsense!вАЭ The one was either вАЬCalais BeachвАЭ or вАЬDover SandsвАЭ of the whiskered man: Arnold.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He would be seeing them both within the twenty-four hours.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But no! He was going from Waterloo. Southampton, Havre, therefore!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The other was by that detestable fellow: вАЬthe subject of our little monograph!вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What a long time ago!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He saw a pile of shining despatch cases: the inscription вАЬThis rack is reserved forвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ; a colouredвБ†вАФpink and blue!вБ†вАФphotograph of Boulogne sands and the held up squares, the proofs of вАЬour littleвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ What a long time ago! He heard his own voice saying in the new railway carriage, proudly, clearly and with male hardness: + 

вАЬI stand for monogamy and chastity. And for no talking about it. Of course if a man whoвАЩs a man wants to have a woman he has her. And again no talking about it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His voiceвБ†вАФhis own voiceвБ†вАФcame to him as if from the other end of a long-distance telephone. A damn long-distance one! Ten yearsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

If then a man whoвАЩs a man wants to have a woman.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Damn it, he doesnвАЩt! In ten years he had learnt that a Tommie whoвАЩs a decent fellow.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ His mind said at one and the same moment, the two lines running one over the other like the two subjects of a fugue: + 

вАЬSome beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury,вАЭ and: + 

вАЬSince when we stand side by side, only hands may meet!вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬBut damn it; damn it again! The beastly fellow was wrong! Our hands didnвАЩt meet.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I donвАЩt believe IвАЩve shaken hands.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I donвАЩt believe IвАЩve touched the girlвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ in my life.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Never once!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Not the handshaking sort.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A nod!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A meeting and parting!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ English, you knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But yes, she put her arm over my shoulders.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ On the bank!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ On such short acquaintance! I said to myself thenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Well, weвАЩve made up for it since then. Oh no! Not made up! AtonedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ As Sylvia so aptly put it; at that moment mother was dying.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He, his conscious self, said: + 

вАЬBut it was probably the drunken brother.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You donвАЩt beguile virgins with the broken seals of perjury in Kensington High Street at two at night supporting, one on each side, a drunken bluejacket with intermittent legs.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬIntermittent!вАЭ was the word. вАЬIntermittently functioning!вАЭ + 

At one point the boy had broken from them and run with astonishing velocity along the dull wood paving of an immense empty street. When they had caught him up he had been haranguing under black hanging trees, with an Oxford voice, an immobile policeman: + 

вАЬYouвАЩre the fellows!вАЭ heвАЩd been exclaiming, вАЬwho make old England what she is! You keep the peace in our homes! You save us from the vile excesses.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens himself he had always addressed with the voice and accent of a common seaman; with his coarsened surface voice! + 

He had the two personalities. Two or three times he had said: + 

вАЬWhy donвАЩt you kiss the girl? SheвАЩs a nice girl, isnвАЩt she? YouвАЩre a poor bвБ†вЄЇвБ†y Tommie, ainвАЩt cher? Well, the poor bвБ†вЄЇвБ†y Tommies ought to have all the nice girls they want! ThatвАЩs straight, isnвАЩt it?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

And, even at that time they hadnвАЩt known what was going to happen.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ There are certain cruelties.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ They had got a four-wheel cab at last. The drunken boy had sat beside the driver; he had insisted.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Her little, pale, shrunken face had gazed straight before her.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It hadnвАЩt been possible to speak; the cab, rattling all over the road had pulled up with frightful jerks when the boy had grabbed at the reins.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The old driver hadnвАЩt seemed to mind; but they had had to subscribe all the money in their pockets to pay him after they had carried the boy into the black house.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

TietjensвАЩ mind said to him: + 

вАЬNow when they came to her fatherвАЩs house so nimbly she slipped in, and said: вАШThere is a fool without and there is a maid within.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЩвАКвАЭ + 

He answered dully: + 

вАЬPerhaps thatвАЩs what it really amounts to.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He had stood at the hall door, she looking out at him with a pitiful face. Then from the sofa within the brother had begun to snore; enormous, grotesque sounds, like the laughter of unknown races from darkness. He had turned and walked down the path, she following him. He had exclaimed: + 

вАЬItвАЩs perhaps tooвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ untidyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She had said: + 

вАЬYes! YesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ UglyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ TooвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ohвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ private!вАЭ + 

He said, he remembered: + 

вАЬButвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ foreverвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said, in a great hurry: + 

вАЬBut when you come back.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Permanently. AndвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ AndвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, as if it were in public.вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬI donвАЩt know,вАЭ She had added. вАЬOught we?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩd be ready.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She added: вАЬI will be ready for anything you ask.вАЭ + 

He had said at some time: вАЬBut obviously.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Not under this roof.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ And he had added: вАЬWeвАЩre the sort thatвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ do not!вАЭ + 

She had answered, quickly too: + 

вАЬYesвБ†вАФthatвАЩs it. WeвАЩre that sort!вАЭ And then she had asked: вАЬAnd EthelвАЩs party? Was it a great success?вАЭ It hadnвАЩt, she knew, been an inconsequence. He had answered: + 

вАЬAhвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThatвАЩs permanent.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThatвАЩs public.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ There was Rugeley. The DukeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Sylvia brought him. SheвАЩll be a great friend!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And the President of theвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Local Government Board, I thinkвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And a BelgianвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ equivalent to Lord Chief JusticeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and, of course, Claudine Sandbach.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Two hundred and seventy; all of the best, the modestly-elated Guggumses said as I left! And Mr.¬†RugglesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Yes!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ TheyвАЩre established.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No place for me!вАЭ + 

вАЬNor for me!вАЭ she had answered. She added: вАЬBut IвАЩm glad!вАЭ + 

Patches of silence ran between them; they hadnвАЩt yet got out of the habit of thinking they had to hold up the drunken brother. That had seemed to last for a thousand painful months.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Long enough to acquire a habit. The brother seemed to roar: вАЬHawвБ†вАФHawвБ†вАФKuryasch.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ And after two minutes: вАЬHawвБ†вАФHawвБ†вАФKuryasch.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Hungarian, no doubt! + 

He said: + 

вАЬIt was splendid to see Vincent standing beside the Duke. Showing him a first edition! Not of course quite the thing for a, after all, wedding party! But how was Rugeley to know that?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And Vincent not in the least servile! He even corrected cousin Rugeley over the meaning of the word вАШcolophonвАЩ! The first time he ever corrected a superior!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Established, you see!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And practically cousin Rugeley.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Dear Sylvia TietjensвАЩ cousin, so the next to nearest thing! Wife of Lady MacmasterвАЩs oldest friend.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Sylvia going to them in theirвБ†вАФquite modest!вБ†вАФlittle place in Surrey.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ As for us,вАЭ he had concluded вАЬthey also serve who only stand and wait.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬI suppose the rooms looked lovely.вАЭ + 

He had answered: + 

вАЬLovely.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ TheyвАЩd got all the pictures by that beastly fellow up from the rectory study in the dining-room on dark oak panelling.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A fair blaze of bosoms and nipples and lips and pomegranates.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The tallest silver candlesticks of courseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you remember silver candlesticks and dark oak.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬOh, my dearвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ DonвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ DonвАЩt!вАЭ + 

He had just touched the rim of his helmet with his folded gloves. + 

вАЬSo we just wash out!вАЭ he had said. + 

She said: + 

вАЬWould you take this bit of parchment.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I got a little Jew girl to write on it in Hebrew: ItвАЩs вАШGod bless you and keep you: God watch over you at your goings out and atвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЩвАКвАЭ + 

He tucked it into his breast pocket. + 

вАЬThe talismanic passage,вАЭ he said. вАЬOf course IвАЩll wear it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬIf we could wash out this afternoon.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It would make it easier to bear.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Your poor mother, you know, she was dying when we lastвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬYou remember thatвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Even then youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And if I hadnвАЩt gone to Lobscheid.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬFrom the first moment I set eyes on you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬAnd IвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ from the first momentвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩll tell youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If I looked out of a doorвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was all like sand.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But to the half left a little bubbling up of water. That could be trusted. To keep on forever.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You, perhaps, wonвАЩt understand.вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬYes! I know!вАЭ + 

вАЬThey were seeing landscapes.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Sand dunes; close-cropped.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Some negligible shipping; a stump-masted brig from Archangel.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬFrom the first moment,вАЭ he repeated. + 

She said: + 

вАЬIf we could wash outвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He said, and for the first moment felt grand, tender, protective: + 

вАЬYes, you can,вАЭ he said. вАЬYou cut out from this afternoon, just before 4:58 it was when I said that to you and you consentedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I heard the Horse Guards clock.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ To now.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Cut it out; and join time up.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It can be done. You know they do it surgically; for some illness; cut out a great length of the bowel and join the tube up.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ For colitis, I think.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬBut I wouldnвАЩt cut it out.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was the first spoken sign.вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬNo it wasnвАЩt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ From the very beginningвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ with every word.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She exclaimed: + 

вАЬYou felt that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Too!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ WeвАЩve been pushed, as in a carpenterвАЩs vise.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ We couldnвАЩt have got away.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He said: вАЬBy God! ThatвАЩs it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He suddenly saw a weeping willow in St.¬†JamesвАЩs Park; 4:59! He had just said: вАЬWill you be my mistress tonight?вАЭ She had gone away, half left her hands to her face.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A small fountain; half left. That could be trusted to keep on forever.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Along the lake side, sauntering, swinging his crooked stick, his incredibly shiny top-hat perched sideways, his claw-hammer coat tails, very long, flapping out behind, in dusty sunlight, his magpie pince-nez gleaming, had come, naturally, Mr.¬†Ruggles. He had looked at the girl; then down at Tietjens, sprawled on his bench. He had just touched the brim of his shiny hat. He said: + 

вАЬDining at the club tonight?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: вАЬNo; IвАЩve resigned.вАЭ + 

With the aspect of a long-billed bird chewing a bit of putridity, Ruggles said: + 

вАЬOh, but weвАЩve had an emergency meeting of the committeeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the committee was sittingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and sent you a letter asking you to reconsider.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens said: + 

вАЬI know.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I shall withdraw my resignation tonight.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And resign again tomorrow morning.вАЭ + 

RugglesвАЩ muscles had relaxed for a quick second, then they stiffened. + 

вАЬOh, I say!вАЭ he had said. вАЬNot that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You couldnвАЩt do that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Not to the club!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs never been done.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs an insult.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬItвАЩs meant to be,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬGentlemen shouldnвАЩt be expected to belong to a club that has certain members on its committee.вАЭ + 

RugglesвАЩ deepish voice suddenly grew very high. + 

вАЬEh, I say, you know!вАЭ he squeaked. + 

Tietjens had said: + 

вАЬIвАЩm not vindictive.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But I am deadly tired: of all old women and their chatter.вАЭ + 

Ruggles had said: + 

вАЬI donвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His face had become suddenly dark brown, scarlet and then brownish purple. He stood droopingly looking at TietjensвАЩ boots. + 

вАЬOh! Ah! Well!вАЭ he said at last. вАЬSee you at MacmasterвАЩs tonight.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A great thing his knighthood. First-class man.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

That had been the first Tietjens had heard of MacmasterвАЩs knighthood; he had missed looking at the honoursвАЩ list of that morning. Afterwards, dining alone with Sir Vincent and Lady Macmaster, he had seen, pinned up, a back view of the Sovereign doing something to Vincent; a photo for next morningвАЩs papers. From MacmasterвАЩs embarrassed hushings of Edith EthelвАЩs explanation that the honour was for special services of a specific kind Tietjens guessed both the nature of MacmasterвАЩs service and the fact that the little man hadnвАЩt told Edith Ethel who, originally, had done the work. AndвБ†вАФjust like his girlвБ†вАФTietjens had let it go at that. He didnвАЩt see why poor Vincent shouldnвАЩt have that little bit of prestige at homeвБ†вАФunder all the monuments! But he hadnвАЩtвБ†вАФthough through all the evening Macmaster, with the solicitude and affection of a cringing Italian greyhound, had hastened from celebrity to celebrity to hang over Tietjens, and although Tietjens knew that his friend was grieved and appalled, like any woman, at his, TietjensвАЩ, going out again to FranceвБ†вАФTietjens hadnвАЩt been able to look Macmaster again in the face.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He had felt ashamed. He had felt, for the first time in his life, ashamed! + 

Even when he, Tietjens, had slipped away from the partyвБ†вАФto go to his good fortune!вБ†вАФMacmaster had come panting down the stairs, running after him, through guests coming up. He had said: + 

вАЬWaitвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YouвАЩre not going.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I want toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ With a miserable and appalled glance he had looked up the stairs; Lady Macmaster might have come out too. With his black, short beard quivering and his wretched eyes turned down, he had said: + 

вАЬI wanted to explain.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ This miserable knighthood.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens patted him on the shoulder, Macmaster being on the stairs above him. + 

вАЬItвАЩs all right, old man,вАЭ he had saidвБ†вАФand with real affection: вАЬWeвАЩve powlered up and down enough for a little thing like that not toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩm very glad.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Macmaster had whispered: + 

вАЬAnd Valentine.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ SheвАЩs not here tonight.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He had exclaimed: + 

вАЬBy God!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If I thoughtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Tietjens had said: вАЬItвАЩs all right. ItвАЩs all right. SheвАЩs at another partyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩm going onвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Macmaster had looked at him doubtingly and with misery, leaning over and clutching the clammy banisters. + 

вАЬTell herвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ he saidвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬGood God! You may be killed.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I beg youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I beg you to believeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I willвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Like the apple of my eye.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ In the swift glance that Tietjens took of his face he could see that MacmasterвАЩs eyes were full of tears. + 

They both stood looking down at the stone stairs for a long time. + 

Then Macmaster had said: вАЬWellвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Tietjens had said: вАЬWellвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ But he hadnвАЩt been able to look at MacmasterвАЩs eyes, though he had felt his friendвАЩs eyes pitiably exploring his own face.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬA backstairs way out of it,вАЭ he had thought; a queer thing that you couldnвАЩt look in the face a man you were never going to see again! + 

вАЬBut by God,вАЭ he said to himself fiercely, when his mind came back again to the girl in front of him, вАЬthis isnвАЩt going to be another backstairs exit.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I must tell her.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩm damned if I donвАЩt make an effort.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She had her handkerchief to her face. + 

вАЬIвАЩm always crying,вАЭ she said.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬA little bubbling spring that can be trusted to keep on.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

He looked to the right and to the left. Ruggles or General Someone with false teeth that didnвАЩt fit must be coming along. The street with its sooty boskage was clean empty and silent. She was looking at him. He didnвАЩt know how long he had been silent, he didnвАЩt know where he had been; intolerable waves urged him towards her. + 

After a long time he said: + 

вАЬWellвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She moved back. She said: + 

вАЬI wonвАЩt watch you out of sight.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It is unlucky to watch anyone out of sight.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But I will neverвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I will never cut what you said then out of my memoryвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She was gone; the door shut. He had wondered what she would never cut out of her memory. That he had asked her that afternoon to be his mistress?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

He had caught, outside the gates of his old office, a transport lorry that had given him a lift to Holborn.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 