s talking not to a maiden aunt, but to a
hard-bitten old soldier. "What good would it serve to stick the
comparatively rare man--I say it in all modesty--the comparatively rare
man like myself in the trenches? It would be foolish waste. I assure
you I'm putting all my talents at the disposal of the country." Seeing,
I suppose, in my eyes, the maintained stoniness of non-conviction, he
went on, "But, pay dear sir, be reasonable." ... Reasonable! I nearly
choked. If I could have stood once more on my useless legs, I should
have swung my left arm round and clouted him on the side of the head.
Reasonable indeed! This well-fed, able-bodied, young Oxford prig to
tell me, an honourable English officer and gentleman, to be reasonable,
when the British Empire, in peril of its existence, was calling on all
its manhood to defend it in arms! I glared at him. He continued:--

"Yes, be reasonable. Everyone has his place in this World conflict. We
can't all be practical fighters. You wouldn't set Kitchener or Grey or
Lord Crewe to bayonet Germans--"

"By God, sir," I cried, smiting one palm with the fist of the other
hand. "By God, sir, I would, if they were three and twenty." I had
completely lost my temper. "And if I saw them doing nothing, while the
country was asking for MEN, but writing rotten doggerel and messing
about with girls far beneath them in station, I should call them the
damnedest skunks unskinned!"

He had the decency to rise. "Major Meredyth," said he, "you're under a
terrible misapprehension. You're a military man and must look at
everything from a military point of view. It would be useless to
discuss the philosophy of the situation with you. We're on different
planes."

Just what I said.

"You," said I, "seem to be hovering near Tophet and the Abyss."

"No, no," he answered with an indulgent smile. "You are quoting
Carlyle. You must give him up."

"Damned pro-German, I should think I do," I cried. I had forgotten
where my phrase came from.

"I'm glad to hear it. He's a back-number. I'm a modern. I represent
equilibrium--" He made a little rocking gesture with his graceful hand.
"I am out for Eternal Truth, which I think I perceive."

"In poor little Phyllis Gedge, I suppose?"

"Why not? Look. I am the son, grandson, great-grandson, of English
Tories. She is the daughter of socialism, syndicalism, pacifism,
internationalism--everything that is most apart from my traditions. But
she brings to me beauty,