tand aside and watch with a smile while the
barbarians slaughtered one another. It looked as though men were puppets
in the hands of an unknown force, which drove them to do this and that;
and sometimes they used their reason to justify their actions; and when
this was impossible they did the actions in despite of reason.

"People are very extraordinary," said Philip. "I should never have
expected you to go out as a trooper."

Hayward smiled, slightly embarrassed, and said nothing.

"I was examined yesterday," he remarked at last. "It was worth while
undergoing the gene of it to know that one was perfectly fit."

Philip noticed that he still used a French word in an affected way when an
English one would have served. But just then Macalister came in.

"I wanted to see you, Carey," he said. "My people don't feel inclined to
hold those shares any more, the market's in such an awful state, and they
want you to take them up."

Philip's heart sank. He knew that was impossible. It meant that he must
accept the loss. His pride made him answer calmly.

"I don't know that I think that's worth while. You'd better sell them."

"It's all very fine to say that, I'm not sure if I can. The market's
stagnant, there are no buyers."

"But they're marked down at one and an eighth."

"Oh yes, but that doesn't mean anything. You can't get that for them."

Philip did not say anything for a moment. He was trying to collect
himself.

"D'you mean to say they're worth nothing at all?"

"Oh, I don't say that. Of course they're worth something, but you see,
nobody's buying them now."

"Then you must just sell them for what you can get."

Macalister looked at Philip narrowly. He wondered whether he was very hard
hit.

"I'm awfully sorry, old man, but we're all in the same boat. No one
thought the war was going to hang on this way. I put you into them, but I
was in myself too."

"It doesn't matter at all," said Philip. "One has to take one's chance."

He moved back to the table from which he had got up to talk to Macalister.
He was dumfounded; his head suddenly began to ache furiously; but he did
not want them to think him unmanly. He sat on for an hour. He laughed
feverishly at everything they said. At last he got up to go.

"You take it pretty coolly," said Macalister, shaking hands with him. "I
don't suppose anyone likes losing between three and four hundred pounds."

When Philip got back to his shabby little room he flung