ar?"

I expressed my horror by a suitable gesture.

"Of course," said Mr. FitzJenkins, "I don't want to be hard on the
Government--I know they have a lot to think of--but I do consider they
ought to have prevented this somehow. They regulate the price of food,
but forget that there are other necessities.... Again, some of my
dividends have not been paid. A nice thing if one is to be forced to
earn one's own living!"

"You haven't volunteered to fight, then?" I said.

"Good lor, no! That might suit some people, but not me. It's not a job
for anyone of any refinement. Why, I am told that, when they are
fighting, for days together even the officers don't shave or change
their linen. I'm not that sort, thank you. There are plenty of rough
fellows to do it, I suppose. And in any event I could not fight
alongside of French soldiers. Have you seen the cut of their trousers?"

Mr. FitzJenkins laughed outright.

"And are you doing anything to help in the crisis?" I asked.

"Oh yes, oh yes," said Mr. FitzJenkins. "You mustn't imagine that it is
only those who fight who are helping. What about the women who are left
behind? I help amuse 'em--keep 'em bright. I'm 'carrying on.' I'm not of
your panicky sort. It's just as well that there should be a few men like
me left in town. We give it a tone."

"I trust, Mr. FitzJenkins," I said, "that you are not opposed to the
War."

"Oh, dear, no. Please don't imagine that. It had to be fought, I
suppose. And, although I am not taking an active part in it myself, I
wish the War well, and hope that the KING and KITCHENER will pull it off
all right."

"May I publish that? I think it would encourage them."

"Certainly. And you might say this. I am convinced we are going to win.
No good could ever come to a man who wears an out-of-date moustache like
the KAISER.... Oh, certainly I am in favour of the War. Why, I have just
ordered several pairs of khaki spats.... Believe me, I wish our
soldier-fellows well, and in my opinion they ought to be encouraged. I
met a lot of 'em trudging along in Pall Mall yesterday, poor devils of
Territorials, I fancy, and I waved my stick to 'em. Nothing would please
me more than to see the country to which that impudent manicurist has
returned receive a thrashing."

Just then the young man who had opened the door to me came in and asked
his master if he could see him privately for a minute. Mr. FitzJenkins
begged me to excuse him, and I did so. When he