erjure himself and say
"Twenty."

"Eighteen, sir," he admitted, obviously ashamed.

"And you, Ray?"

"Eighteen, sir," said I, feeling Doe's companion in guilt.

"Splendid, perfectly splendid!" replied the Colonel. "Eighteen, by
Jove! You've timed your lives wonderfully, my boys. To be eighteen
in 1914 is to be the best thing in England. England's wealth used to
consist in other things. Nowadays you boys are the richest thing
she's got. She's solvent with you, and bankrupt without you.
Eighteen, confound it! It's a virtue to be your age, just as it's a
crime to be mine. Now, look here"--the Colonel drew up his chair, as
if he were going to get to business--"look here. Eighteen years ago
you were born for this day. Through the last eighteen years you've
been educated for it. Your birth and breeding were given you that
you might officer England's youth in this hour. And now you enter
upon your inheritance. Just as this is _the_ day in the history of
the world so yours is _the_ generation. No other generation has been
called to such grand things, and to such crowded, glorious living.
Any other generation at your age would be footling around, living a
shallow existence in the valleys, or just beginning to climb a
slope to higher things. But you"--here the Colonel tapped the
writing-table with his forefinger--"you, just because you've timed
your lives aright, are going to be transferred straight to the
mountain-tops. Well, I'm damned. Eighteen!"

I remember how his enthusiasm radiated from him and kindled a
responsive excitement in me. I had entered his room a silly boy with
no nobler thought than a thrill in the new adventure on which I had
so suddenly embarked. But, as this fatherly old poet, touched by
England's need and by the sight of two boys entering his room, so
fresh and strong and ready for anything, broke into eloquence, I saw
dimly the great ideas he was striving to express. I felt the
brilliance of being alive in this big moment; the pride of youth and
strength. I felt Aspiration surging in me and speeding up the action
of my heart. I think I half hoped it would be my high lot to die on
the battlefield. It was just the same glowing sensation that
pervaded me one strange evening when, standing outside the baths at
Kensingtowe, I first awoke to the joy of conscious life.

"D'you see what I'm driving at?" asked the old Colonel.

"Rather!" answered Doe, with eagerness. Turning towards him as he
spoke, I saw