"Unbiased be damned! I don't want to be unbiased. I won't be. I had
enough of being unbiased when I was on the Bench, and I don't care
what any of you unbiased people say--I believe we shall win."

G.J. suddenly saw a boy in the old man, and suddenly he too became
boyish, remembering what he had said to Christine about the war not
having begun yet; and with fervour he concurred:

"So do I."

He rose, moved--relieved after a tension which he had not noticed
until it was broken. It was time for him to go. The two old men were
recalled to the fact of his presence. Bob raised the newspaper again.

Sir Francis asked:

"Are you going to the--er--affair in the City?"

"Yes," said G.J. with careful unconcern.

"I had thought of going. My granddaughter worried me till I consented
to take her. I got two tickets; but no sooner had I arrayed myself
this morning than she rang me up to say that her baby was teething
and she couldn't leave it. In view of this important creature's
indisposition I sent the tickets back to the Dean and changed my
clothes. Great-grandfathers have to be philosophers. I say, Hoape,
they tell me you play uncommonly good auction bridge."

"I play," said G.J. modestly. "But no better than I ought."