MORE. I am not! But I prefer to fight some one my own size.

SIR JOHN. Well! I can only hope to God you'll come to your senses
before you commit the folly of this speech. I must get back to the
War Office. Good-night, Hubert.

HUBERT. Good-night, Father.

[SIR JOHN goes out. HUBERT stands motionless, dejected.]

HUBERT. We've got our orders.

MORE. What? When d'you sail?

HUBERT. At once.

MORE. Poor Helen!

HUBERT. Not married a year; pretty bad luck! [MORE touches his arm
in sympathy] Well! We've got to put feelings in our pockets. Look
here, Stephen--don't make that speech! Think of Katherine--with the
Dad at the War Office, and me going out, and Ralph and old George out
there already! You can't trust your tongue when you're hot about a
thing.

MORE. I must speak, Hubert.

HUBERT. No, no! Bottle yourself up for to-night. The next few
hours 'll see it begin. [MORE turns from him] If you don't care