worldly comforts and
successes or little failures drop out of your line of sight, and change
their values. Mothers are beginning to clutch at their sons; and even
self-centred fathers and selfish pretty sisters look at their male
relatives with questioning, with a hint of respect or even awe in it.
Perhaps the women feel it more than the men. Good-looking, light-minded,
love-making George has assumed a new aspect to his mother and to
Kathryn. They're secretly yearning over him. He has assumed a new aspect
to me. I yearn over him myself. He has changed--he has suddenly grown
up. Boys are doing it on every hand."

"The youngest youngster vibrates with the shock of cannon firing, even
though the sound may not be near enough to be heard," answered Coombe.
"We're all vibrating unconsciously. We are shuddering consciously at the
things we hear and are mad to put a stop to, before they go further."

"Innocent little villages full of homes torn and trampled under foot and
burned!" the Duchess almost cried out. "And worse things than
that--worse things! And the whole monstrosity growing more huge and
throwing out new and more awful tentacles every day."

"Every hour. No imagination has yet conceived what it may be."

"That is why the poor human things are clutching at each other, and
finding values and attractions where they did not see them before.
Colonel Marion and his wife were here yesterday. He is a stout man over
fifty and has a red face and prominent eyes. His wife has been so
occupied with herself and her children that she had almost forgotten he
existed. She looked at and listened to him as if she were a bride."

"I have seen changes of that sort myself," said Coombe. "He is more
alive himself. He has begun to be of importance. And men like him have
been killed already--though the young ones go first."

"The young ones know that, and they clutch the most frantically. That is
what I am seeing in young eyes everywhere. Mere instinct makes it
so--mere uncontrollable instinct which takes the form of a sort of
desperateness at facing the thousand chances of death before they have
lived. They don't know it isn't actual fear of bullets and shrapnel.
Sometimes they're afraid it's fear and it makes them sick at themselves
and determined to grin and hide it. But it isn't fear--it's furious
Nature protesting."

"There are hasty bridals and good-bye marriages being made in all
ranks," Coombe put in. "They are inevitable."