He was
going back to his own land, where he was born, where he belonged, even
though there was no one to welcome his return. There was no roof to
receive him save an attic roof, rented for a few shillings a week. For
though he had plenty of money now, he still thought in small sums. He
was glad to be going home--the joy was painful. His chief praised him
a little at parting, and said he had done good work and hoped his
successor would do as well. Regretted his departure at this moment,
since that old fellow who kept such a notorious den was breaking loose
again, more villainous, more elusive than ever. Lawson heard this with
astonishment, with infinite regret. Wished he could have stayed to see
it ended.

He was going home. It hurt to be so glad. In all these years he had
been so utterly lonely, so utterly miserable. His few companions came
down to the landing stage on the Bund to see him off, to wish him
luck. They were rather wistful, for they also knew loneliness. They
had tried to forget about this longing for home in the many ways of
forgetfulness that the East offered, nevertheless they were wistful.
Lawson understood, he felt great pity for them. He advised them to get
away before they were done for, for the East does for many people in
the long run. The launch, waiting to take him down river where the
steamer lay anchored, grated against the steps of the landing stage,
as if eager to be off.

"I wish," said one of his friends, "that we had your luck--that we
too were going home."

Lawson's heart ached for them. He had experience but no imagination.
"Yes," he said simply, "it is very good to be going Home."

CIVILIZATION

IV

CIVILIZATION

I

Maubert leaned against the counter in his wine-shop, reading a paper
that had just come to him--an official looking paper, which he held
unsteadily, unwillingly, and which trembled a little between his big,
thick fingers. Behind the counter sat Madame Maubert, knitting. Before
her, ranged neatly on the zinc covered shelf, was a row of inverted
wine glasses, three of them still dripping, having been washed after
the last customers by a hasty dip into a bucket of cold water.

"Mobilised," said Maubert slowly. "I am mobilised--at last." Madame
Maubert looked up from her knitting. For a year now they had both been
expecting this, for the war had been going on for over a year, and
Maubert, while over age and below par in physical condition, was still
a