't have
done what he has," thought George, proud to be seen in converse with a
staff-officer, waving a hand in adieu. And he thought: "Perhaps next
time I see him I shall be saluting him!"

The children and nurse were still at breakfast. Nothing had changed in
the house during his absence. But the whole house was changed. It was a
house unconvincing, incredible, which might vanish at any moment. He
himself was incredible. What had happened was incredible. The screeching
voices of the children were not real voices, and the children were
apparitions. The newspaper was illegible. Its messages for the most part
had no meaning, and such as bore a meaning seemed to be utterly
unimportant. The first reality, for George was food. He discovered that
he could not eat the food--could not swallow; the nausea was acute. He
drank a little coffee, and then went upstairs to see his wife. Outside
the bedroom door he stood hesitant. A desolating sadness of
disappointment suddenly surged over him. He had destroyed his ambitions,
he had transformed all his life, by a single unreflecting and
irretrievable impulse. What he had done was terrific, and yet he had
done it as though it were naught ... The mood passed as suddenly as it
had come, and left him matter-of-fact, grim, as it were swimming
strongly on and with the mighty current which had caught him. He went
into the bedroom on the current. Lois was awake.

"I've seen Colonel Rannion."

"You haven't, George!"

"Yes, I have. I've just come back."

"Well?"

He replied with his damnable affected casualness: "I'm in the Army.
Royal Field Artillery. And so that's that."

"But where's your uniform?"

"I knew you'd say that. I'm in mufti, you see."

II

He promptly received his papers and returned them. His medical
examination was quite satisfactory. Then there was no further sign from
the Army. The Army might have completely forgotten him; his enrolment in
the Army might have been an illusion. Every day and every hour he
expected a telegram of command. It was in anticipation of the telegram,
curt and inexorable, that he kept harrying his tradesmen. To be caught
unprepared by the telegram would be a disaster. But the tradesmen had
lessons to teach him, and by the time the kit was approximately
completed he had learnt the lessons. Whether the transaction concerned
his tunic, breeches, spurs, leggings, cane, sword, socks, shirts, cap,
camp field-kit, or any of the numerous other