elp you to do it, and if you defy me you must
take the consequences. The whole world's gone mad. My only
consolation is that I have just got some new Greek things, and
that Levasseur's helping me unpack them. However, it's no good
talking to you about them. You wasted all your time at
Cambridge, and I doubt whether you could construe a bit of
Euripides to save your life.

'Of course if you want to talk this over, you had better run
down. I have got a new secretary--came here six weeks ago--a
topping young woman--who reads Greek like a bird. But her
quantities are not always what they should be. Good-bye.--Your
affectionate father,

'EDMUND MANNERING.'

Having finished the epistle he read it over with a complacent
countenance, put it up and stamped it. Then he looked at his watch.

'What a long time that young woman's been away! I told her to take
two hours off, but of course I didn't mean it. That was just my
excessive politeness. D-mn my politeness. It's always getting in my
way. I forget that women are naturally lazy. I daresay she was a bit
fagged. But if she's interested in her work, what does that matter?
I wonder whether she's looked out all these references?'

And walking over to the one neat table In the room he surveyed it.
There were some sheets lying on it mostly covered with an excellent
Greek script, which he turned over. Suddenly he swooped on one of
them.

'Hullo! That line's wrong. Won't scan. Trusted to her memory, I
suppose. Didn't look it up. And yesterday I caught her out in her
accents. Women play the devil with accents. But she writes a pretty
Greek. Eh? What?' For he had become aware of the re-entry of
Levasseur, who was standing at his elbow.

''Fraid I can't stay now,' said that person. 'I've promised to pick
up some wounded at the station to-night.'

'You--wounded!--what do you mean?' said the Squire, turning upon
him.

Levasseur's large, thin-lipped mouth showed what seemed an habitual
grin.

'I'd been getting so unpopular, it was becoming a nuisance. Line of
least resistance, you understand. Now everybody's quite civil again.
And I like chauffing.'

'A mere bit of weakness!' grumbled the Squire. 'Either you keep out
of the war, or you go into it. You'd better go off to a camp now,
and get trained--and shot--as quickly as possible--get done with
it.'

'Oh no,' laughed the other. 'I'm all for middle courses. If they'l