things clearly.

They began with the usual ritual of the selection of chairs and cigars,
and Mr. Lessing had a glass of port with his coffee, because, as he
explained, his nerves were all on edge. Comfortably stretched out in an
armchair, blowing smoke thoughtfully towards the empty grate, his fat
face and body did not seem capable of nerves, still less to be suffering
from them, but then one can never tell from appearances. At any rate he
chose his words with care, and Graham, opposite but sitting rather
upright, could not but sense his meaning.

"Well, well, well," he said, "to think we should come to this! A European
war in this century, and we in it! Not that I'll believe it till I hear
it officially. While there's life there's hope, eh, Graham?"

Peter nodded, for he did not know what to say.

"The question is," went on the other, "that if we are carried into war,
what is the best policy? Some fools will lose their heads, of course, and
chuck everything to run into it. But I've no use for fools, Graham."

"No, sir," said Peter.

"No use for fools," repeated Mr. Lessing. "I shall carry on with business
as usual, and I hope other people will carry on with theirs. There are
plenty of men who can fight, and who ought to, without disorganising
everything. Hilda would see that too--she's such a sensible girl. Look at
that Boer affair, and all that foolery about the C.I.V. Why, I met a
South African at the club the other day who said we'd have done ten times
as well without 'em. You must have trained men these days, and, after