he war.

L. ANNE. I like fun that happens when you're not looking.

JAMES. Do you? You'd ha' been just suited.

L. ANNE. James, is there a future life? Miss Stokes says so.

JAMES. It's a belief, in the middle classes.

L. ANNE. What are the middle classes?

JAMES. Anything from two 'undred a year to supertax.

L. ANNE. Mother says they're terrible. Is Miss Stokes middle class?

JAMES. Yes.

L. ANNE. Then I expect they are terrible. She's awfully virtuous,
though, isn't she?

JAMES. 'Tisn't so much the bein' virtuous, as the lookin' it, that's
awful.

L. ANNE. Are all the middle classes virtuous? Is Poulder?

JAMES. [Dubiously] Well. Ask him!

L. ANNE. Yes, I will. Look!

[From an empty bin on the ground level she picks up a lighted
taper,--burnt almost to the end.]

JAMES. [Contemplating it] Careless!

L. Ate. Oh! And look! [She paints to a rounded metal object lying
in the bin, close to where the taper was] It's a bomb!

She is about to pick it up when JAMES takes her by the waist and puts
her aside.

JAMES. [Sternly] You stand back, there! I don't like the look o'
that!

L. ANNE. [With intense interest] Is it really a bomb? What fun!

JAMES. Go and fetch Poulder while I keep an eye on it.

L. ANNE. [On tiptoe of excitement] If only I can make him jump!
Oh, James! we needn't put the light out, need we?

JAMES. No. Clear off and get him, and don't you come back.

L. ANNE. Oh! but I must! I found it!

JAMES. Cut along.

L. ANNE. Shall we bring a bucket?

JAMES. Yes. [ANNE flies off.]

[Gazing at the object] Near go! Thought I'd seen enough o'them
to last my time. That little gas blighter! He looked a rum 'un,
too--one o' these 'ere Bolshies.

[In the presence of this grim object the habits of the past are
too much for him. He sits on the ground, leaning against one of
the bottle baskets, keeping his eyes on the bomb, his large,
lean, gorgeous body spread, one elbow on his plush knee. Taking
out an empty pipe, he places it mechanically, bowl down, between
his dips. There enter, behind him, as from a communication
trench, POULDER, in swallow-tails, with LITTLE ANNE behind him.]

L. ANNE. [Peering round him--ecstatic] Hurrah! Not gone off yet!
It can't--can it--while James is sitting on it?

POULDER. [Very broad and stout, with square shoulders,--a large
ruddy face, and a small mouth