"So do I." Curled up in the corner of the sofa, I had not intended
to speak. A woman's opinions on war don't interest men. "The
fundamental instinct in man to fight may require a few thousand more
years to yield to the advisability of settling differences around a
table in a council-chamber, but one can't tell. Much less time may
be necessary. The tree-dwellers and the cave-dwellers and the
tent-dwellers spent most of their time scrapping. We do have
intervals of peace in which to get ready to fight again."

"So did they, though their intervals were shorter, perhaps, owing to
their simpler methods of attack." Selwyn laughed. "In their day,
warfare being largely a personal or tribal affair, little time was
necessary for preparation. With us the whole machinery of government
is needed to murder and maim and devastate and ruin. Civilization
and science and education have complicated pretty hopelessly the
adjustments of disputes, the taking of territory, and the acceptance
of opposing ideals. The biggest artillery and the best brains for
butchery at present are having their day. Humanity in the making has
its discouraging side."

"It has!" David Guard's voice was emphatic, though he, too, laughed.
"If humanity made claim to being a finished product, there'd be
justification for more than discouragement. It makes no such claim.
Fists and clubs, and slingshots and battle-axes, are handier weapons
than guns and cannon, and armored air-ships and under-sea craft, but
in the days of the former using, but one kind of army was sent out to
fight. To-day we send out two."

"Two?" Selwyn looked puzzled. "What two?"