and was pleased with itself; Dick and
his lady were beckoning. For the moment it felt like coming to from an
anaesthetic.

I shook myself and got up. Of course I was drinking a liqueur with
them: another glass of brandy--Jimmy O'Shea's brandy.

"Are you in love?" queried the girl anxiously as I sat down. "You've
been muttering to yourself and squinting and Dickie got worried about
you."

"Not more than usual--though I'm glad to learn the symptoms." Then I
looked at her, and the wonder of a girl in love hit me almost like a
blow. In it lay the answer to my thoughts. No longer a cynical
amusement in their failure to realise the contrast, but rather a mighty
thankfulness. For it is they, in their blessed ignorance, who keep us
sane.

I raised my glass. "To things as they are, my lady," I murmured. And
from the land of shadows Jimmy drank with me.

PART III

SEED TIME

I. THE SEED
II. THE FIRST LESSON
III. AN IMPERSONAL DEMONSTRATION
IV. SOMEWHAT MORE PERSONAL
V. A PROJECT AND SOME SIDE ISSUES
VI. THE SECOND LESSON, AND SOME FURTHER SIDE ISSUES
VII. THE THIRD LESSON, AND A DIGRESSION
VIII. THE THIRD LESSON IS LEARNED
IX. "AND OTHER FELL ON GOOD GROUND"

SEED TIME

I

THE SEED

I have in my mind the tale of a superior young man--a very superior
young man, genteel, and thoroughly versed in the intricacies of
etiquette. The majority of the human race was, without any loss to
itself, unaware that he existed; but the "ladies" and "gentlemen" on
the staff of Mogg's Mammoth Emporium viewed him as the supreme arbiter
of elegance. And just because the average human being would have
asserted--and asserted correctly--that for such as him there is no hope
save drowning in puppyhood, I would tell his story. It is the
exception which proves the rule. It is the proof that we are the
slaves of custom and environment; and that, given something as the
bed-rock, much may be done by a good teacher. There was something in
this very superior young man as it turned out, though few would have
suspected it, had they seen him before the war. But then, no one can
ever listen to a person of the male sex proffering a good line of
stockings in Lisle thread at one and eleven-three without experiencing
a strong desire to be sick. Which goes back to what I said before: the
whole thing is one of environment. The stocking vendors knew no
better; for want of the necessary