hurt, shock, and the
unknown, which instinct obtains the mastery only through surprise, or
through the exhaustion of the mind and will, or through a man being
excessively self-centred. It is not the fear of death rationally
considered; but an irrational physical instinct which all men possess,
but which almost all can control.

VIII

IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS

II

SCENE. _A dug-out in a wood somewhere in Flanders. Officers at
tea._

HANCOCK. Damned glad to be out of that infernal firing trench,
anyway. (_A dull report is heard in the distance._) There goes another
torpedo! Wonder who's copt it this time!

SMITH. For Christ's sake talk about something else!

HANCOCK (_ignoring him_). Are we coming back to the same trenches,
sir?

CAPTAIN DODD. 'Spect so.

HANCOCK. At the present rate we shall last another two spells. I hate
this sort of bisnay. You go on month after month losing fellows the
whole time, and at the end of it you're exactly where you started. I
wish they'd get a move on.

WHISTON. Tired of life?

HANCOCK. If you call this life, yes! If this damned war is going on
another two years, I hope to God I don't live to see the end of it.

SMITH. If ever I get home ...!

WHISTON. Well?

SMITH. Won't I paint the town red, that's all!

WHISTON. If ever I get home ... well, I guess I'll go home. No more
razzle-dazzle for master! No, there's a little girl awaiting, and I
know she thinks of me. Shan't wait any longer.

HANCOCK (_heavily_). Don't think a chap's got any right to marry a
girl under present circs. It's ten to one she's a widow before she's
a mother.

SMITH. Oh, shut up!

CAPTAIN DODD (_gently_). To some women the kid would be just the one
thing that made life bearable.

HANCOCK (_reddening_). Sorry, sir; forgot you'd just done it. Course
you're right. Depends absolutely on the girl.

CAPTAIN DODD. Thanks. I say, Whiston, I'm going to B.H.Q. Care to come
along?

(_They go out together._)

SCENE. _A path through a wood_. CAPTAIN DODD _and_ WHISTON
_walking together, followed by a_ LANCE-CORPORAL.

DODD. D'you believe in presentiments, Whiston?

WHISTON (_doubtfully_). A year ago I should have laughed at you for
asking. Now ...

DODD. More things in heaven and earth ...?

WHISTON. My rationalism is always being upset!

DODD. How exactly?

WHISTON. For instance, I simply can't believe that old John is
finished. Can you?

DODD (_quietly_). No.