ong home. Mr. Spokesly had not had a great deal
to do with death heretofore, and he was much struck with the extreme
ease with which one can grow accustomed to the horror of an elderly
shipmaster being ordered about "like a dog," as the saying is. In a way,
he could scarcely refrain from regarding his friend the lieutenant in
the same light as his late shipmates. He was clear enough on this point
now: that the way to success is not through a nursing-home for
grievances. No one who had met Captain Rannie, for example, could regard
a grievance as a worthy or valuable possession. And Mr. Spokesly, to
whom had been denied access to the great founts of wisdom, had to
progress by noting his fellowmen and their reactions upon his own
feelings. He hastened away up Venizelos Street, full of vigour and hope,
as though it lay upon him to achieve something of the work foregone by
those so suddenly finished with life, who were now moving about, a
bewildered and somewhat undisciplined little band of incongruous shades,
lost and forgotten as the colossal armies of the slain went past. And he
became aware, quite suddenly, in the midst of the bright noisy street,
of life being an instinctive, momentary, impersonal affair after all. As
he put it, like a lot of insects, and somebody steps on us, and we're
squashed, and all the others go swarming on over us. And with that
mysteriously heartening notion, Mr. Spokesly had a vividly imagined
glimpse of those same armies marching through the shadows, millions of
them, of all nations, silently moving towards an eternity of passionless
intelligence. It would make no difference then, he thought. All we got
to do, is make the best bargain we can for ourselves. Carry on! Like
insects....

They looked like that. They swarmed in the narrow street, almost
crawling over one another with brilliant and distinctive markings and in
their hard dark eyes an expression of maniacal acquisitiveness. Their
glances were almost like antennae, waving to and fro in the bright,
stench-laden air, communicating to the alert and secular intelligences
within the warning of an approaching danger or victim. Like insects,
too, they hived in dark holes, which they called shops, in the backs of
which one could see their eyes glittering, lying in wait. And down the
steep street came other insects, warrior ants astride of horses
caparisoned in blue and silver, and green and gold, with shining
metallic wing-cases and fierce head