," he answered. "Yes."

He paced the length of the room twice--three times and said nothing. She
watched him as he walked and she knew he was going to say more. She also
wondered what curious thing it might be. She had said to herself that
what he said and did would be entirely detached from ordinary or archaic
views. Also she had guessed that it might be extraordinary--perhaps as
extraordinary as his long intimacy with Mrs. Gareth-Lawless. Was there a
possibility that he was going to express himself now?

"But that is not all," he said at last and he ended his pondering walk
by coming nearer to her. He sat down and touched the newspapers lying on
the table.

"You have been poring over these," he said, "and I have been doing the
same thing. I have also been talking to the people who know things and
to those who ought to know them but don't. Just now the news is worse
each day. In the midst of the roar and thunder of cataclysms to talk
about a mere girl 'in trouble' appears disproportionate. But because our
world seems crumbling to pieces about us she assumes proportions of her
own. I was born of the old obstinate passions of belief in certain
established things and in their way they have had their will of me.
Lately it has forced itself upon me that I am not as modern as I have
professed to be. The new life has gripped me, but the old has not let me
go. There are things I cannot bear to see lost forever without a
struggle."

"Such as--" she said it very low.

"I conceal things from myself," he answered, "but they rise and confront
me. There were days when we at least believed--quite obstinately--in a
number of things."

"Sometimes quite heroically," she admitted. "'God Save the Queen' in its
long day had actual glow and passion. I have thrilled and glowed myself
at the shouting song of it."

"Yes," he drew a little nearer to her and his cold face gained a slight
colour. "In those days when a son--or a grandson--was born to the head
of a house it was a serious and impressive affair."

"Yes." And he knew she at once recalled her own son--and George in
Flanders.

"It meant new generations, and generations counted for decent dignity as
well as power. A farmer would say with huge pride, 'Me and mine have
worked the place for four generations,' as he would say of the owner of
the land, 'Him and his have held it for six centuries.' Centuries and
generations are in danger of no longer inspiring special reverence. It