stripped off, and the walls and ceiling were covered with a dead-
black satiny paper on which hung the most monstrous pictures in
large dull-gold frames. I could only see them dimly, but they seemed
to be a mere riot of ugly colour. The young man nodded towards
them. 'I see you have got the Degousses hung at last,' he said.

'How exquisite they are!' cried Miss Claire. 'How subtle and
candid and brave! Doria and I warm our souls at their flame.'

Some aromatic wood had been burned in the room, and there
was a queer sickly scent about. Everything in that place was strained
and uneasy and abnormal - the candle shades on the table, the mass
of faked china fruit in the centre dish, the gaudy hangings and the
nightmarish walls. But the food was magnificent. It was the best
dinner I had eaten since 1914.
'Tell me, Mr Brand,' said Miss Doria, her long white face propped
on a much-beringed hand. 'You are one of us? You are in revolt
against this crazy war?'

'Why, yes,' I said, remembering my part. 'I think a little
common-sense would settle it right away.'

'With a little common-sense it would never have started,' said
Mr Wake.

'Launcelot's a C.O., you know,' said Miss Doria.

I did not know, for he did not look any kind of soldier ... I was
just about to ask him what he commanded, when I remembered
that the letters stood also for 'Conscientious Objector,' and stopped