ave stayed behind--than you fellows. . . ."

"It's very much nicer," said Vane with a laugh, "to kill--even a
Boche--in imagination than in reality. . . . Though I've seen many
men," he added thoughtfully, "go blood mad."

"Do you remember that description of Kipling's," said Sir James, "of
the scrap between the Black Tyrone and the Pathans? Mulvaney was sick,
and Ortheris cursed, and Learoyd sang hymns--wasn't it?"

"I've seen them all those ways," said Vane thoughtfully, "and the worst
of the lot are the silent ones. . . . There was one fellow I had who
never uttered a word from the time we went over till the finish, and he
never--if he could avoid it--struck a man anywhere except in the
stomach. . . . And incidentally he could quote more from the Bible
than most Bishops. . . . In fact, if he ever did speak, so I'm told,
when he was fighting it was just to remark, 'And the Lord said'--as he
stabbed."

Sir James nodded, and then half-closed his eyes. "One just can't get
it," he said. "None of us who haven't been there will ever get it--so
I suppose it's not much use trying. But one can't help thinking that
if only a few of the people who count over here could go and see, it
might make a difference. We might not be having so much trouble. . . ."

"See the reality and clear away the humbug," said Vane. "Can't be
done, Sir James. I know Staff Officers who would willingly give a
year's pay to shepherd a personally conducted Cook's party to France of
the British working man. They get their legs pulled right and left by
everybody out there; and do you wonder?" He laughed shortly. "Tommy's
no fool: six pounds a week instead of a shilling a day. And
comparisons are odious."

"But couldn't they be taken really into things?" asked his host.

"I can't quite see the party popping the parapet," grinned Vane. "It's
not a thing which anyone does for pleasure. . . ."

It was at that moment that with a loud booming noise Aunt Jane again
contributed to the conversation. "I'm afraid you've wasted your time
out there, young man."

"She means that two Germans and one doubtful isn't enough," gurgled
Joan, as she saw Vane's look of bewilderment. To his relief the old
lady did not adjust her trumpet, so he assumed rightly that he would be
allowed to suffer her displeasure in silence. . . .

"Well," said Sir James after a pause. "I suppose there are
unsurmountable difficulties in making people understand. But if