on this kind of thing!' Sir Henry pointed to the
vases. He had grown a little white.

'Of course I can. That's permanent. That's something to mend the
holes that the soldiers and the politicians are making. When the
war's become a nightmare that nobody wants to remember, those little
things'--he pointed to a group of Greek bronzes and terra-cottas on
a table near--'will still be the treasures of the world!'

In the yeasty deep of Sir Henry's honest mind emotions were rising
which he knew now he should not long be able to control. He took up
his hat and stick.

'I'm sorry, Mannering, that I have not been able to convince you.
I'm sorry for your point of view--and I'm sorry for your sons.'

The words slipped out of his mouth before he knew.

The Squire bounded.

'My sons! The one's a fire-eater, with whom you can't argue. The
other's a child--a babe--whom the Government proposes to murder
before he has begun to live.'

Sir Henry looked at the speaker, who had been violently flushed a
minute earlier, and was now as pale as himself, and then at the
sketch of Desmond, just behind the Squire. His eyes dropped; the
hurry in his blood subsided.

'Well, good-bye, Mannering. I'll--I'll do what I can to make things
easy for you.'

The Squire laughed angrily.

'You'll put on the screws politely? Thank you? But still it will be
_you_ who'll be putting the screw on, who'll be turning out my
farmers, and ploughing up my land, and cutting down my trees.
Doesn't it strike you that--well, that--under the circumstances--it
will be rather difficult for Aubrey and Beryl to keep up their
engagement?'

The Squire was sitting on the edge of the table, his thin legs
crossed, his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets. Sir Henry coloured
hotly.

'You gave your consent to their engagement, Mannering.'

'Yes, but I propose to withdraw it,' said the Squire coolly.

Sir Henry's indignation kept him cool also.

'You can't play ducks and drakes with young people's lives like
that. Even you can't do that.'

'I can. I can withdraw my consent.'

'Because you mean to fight the County War Committee, of which I am
Chairman?'

'Precisely. The situation is too difficult,' said the Squire with
sparkling eyes. 'The young people will no doubt see it for
themselves.'

'Pshaw! Nonsense!' cried Sir Henry, finally losing his temper.
'Aubrey is long since of age and his own master.'

'Perhaps, but he is an extravagant fellow, who likes money an