bly we can pull off something.

"JULIE."

He smiled and put it in his pocket. Langton said nothing till the coffee
and liqueurs came in. Then he lit a cigarette and held the match out to
Peter. "Wonder if we shall meet again?" he said.

"Oh, I expect so," said Peter. "Write, anyway, won't you? I'll likely get
a chance to come to Rouen."

"And I likely won't be there. I'm putting in again for another job.
They're short of men now, and want equipment officers for the R.A.F. It's
a stunt for which engineering's useful, and I may get in. I don't suppose
I'll see much of the fun, but it's better than bossing up a labour
company, any road."

"Sportsman," said Peter. "I envy you. Why didn't you tell me? I've half a
mind to put in too. Do you think I'd have a chance?"

"No," said Langton brutally. "Besides, it's not your line. You know what
yours is; stick to it."

"And you know that I'm not so sure that I can," said Peter.

"Rot!" said the other. "You can if you like. You won't gain by running
away. Only I give you this bit of advice, old son: go slow. You're so
damned hot-headed! You can't remake the world to order in five minutes;
and if you could, I bet it wouldn't be a much better old world. We've
worried along for some time moderately well. Don't be too ready to turn
down the things that have worked with some success, at any rate, for the
things that have never been tried."

Peter smoked in silence. Then he said: "Langton you're a bit different
from what you were. In a way, it's you who have set me out on this
racket, and it's you who encouraged me to try and get down to
rock-bottom. You've always been a cautious old rotter, but you're more
than cautious now. Why?"

Langton leaned over and touched the other's tunic pocket in which lay
Julie's note. Then he leaned back and went on with his cigarette.

Peter flushed. "It's too late," he said judicially, flicking off his ash.

"So? Well, I'm sorry, frankly--sorry for her and sorry for you. But if it
is, I'll remember my own wisdom: it's no use meddling with such things.
For all that, you're a fool, Peter, as I told you last night."

"Just so. And I asked what was a fool."

"And I didn't answer. I reckon fools can be of many sorts. Your sort of
fool chucks the world over for the quest of an ideal."

"Thank you," said Peter quietly.

"You needn't. That fool is a real fool, and bigger than most. Ideals are
ideals, and one can't realise them. It's waste of tim