really....

"... Jeanne--do you realise that if we've any luck, any luck at all, we
shall take the same risks?"

"It's all very well for us. If it was only being killed--But
there's killing."

"Of course there's killing. If a man's willing to be killed he's jolly
well earned his right to kill. It's the same for the other johnnie. If
your life doesn't matter a hang, his doesn't either. He's got his
feeling. He's got his romance. If he hasn't--"

"Yes--if he hasn't?"

"He's better dead."

"Oh no; he might simply go slogging on without feeling anything, from a
sense of duty. That would be beautiful; it would be _the_ most
beautiful thing."

"There you are, then. His duty's his romance. You can't get away from
it."

"No."

But she thought: Supposing he went, loathing it, shivering, sick?
Frightened. Well, of course it would be there too, simply because he
_went_; only you would feel it, not he.