"Gilbert's going out in a few days," Roger said, when they had greeted
each other.

"Out?"

"Yes. He's going to the Dardanelles!... This job's serious, Quinny!" he
added grimly. "Our two months' estimate was a bit out, wasn't it? I
suppose you haven't heard from Ninian lately? He hasn't written to me
for a good while."

"Not lately," Henry answered, "but I shall hear of him to-morrow when I
get to Boveyhayne. I'll write and let you know!"

"My Big Army book's gone to pot, of course!" Roger went on. "At present
anyhow!..."

"The War's done for the Improved Tories, I suppose?"

"Absolutely. They've all enlisted. Ashley Earls is in the R.A.M.C. He
went in last week. He couldn't go before ... he was ill. You remember
Ernest Carr. He tried to enlist when the War began, but he was so
crippled with rheumatism that they hoofed him out. Well, he's been
living like a hermit ever since to get himself cured, and he says he's
going on splendidly. He thinks he'll be able to join before long...."

"I wonder if I ought to join," he went on, more to himself than to
Henry. "I've thought and thought about it ... but I can't make up my
mind. I've got a decent connexion at the Bar now, and if I go into the
Army, I shall lose it. The fellows who don't go will get my work. And if
the War lasts as long as Kitchener reckons, I shall be forgotten by the
time I get back ... and I shall have to begin again at an age when most
men have either established themselves or cleared out of the profession
altogether. I want to do what's right, but I can't reconcile my two
duties, Quinny. I've a duty to England, of course, but I think I have a
bigger duty to Rachel and Eleanor. If they'd only conscript us all, this
problem wouldn't arise ... not so acutely anyhow. I suppose the
Government is having a pretty hard time, but they do seem to act the
goat rather! There's a great deal of talk about a man's duty to England,
but very little talk about England's duty to the man. However!..." He
did not finish his sentence, but shrugged his shoulders and looked away.

"I don't feel happy," he went on after a while, "when I see other men
joining up, but I've got to think of Rachel and Eleanor.... When I was
going to meet you, Quinny, I passed a chap on crutches. His leg was
off!... He made me feel damned ashamed. I suppose that's why they let
the wounded go about in uniform so freely; to make you feel ashamed of
yourself. That's what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid