The Colonel heard the words, but paid no heed. They fell on his mind like rain-drops on a sea which absorbs them unconsciously as it sways and drifts listlessly to and fro.
Then another voice, familiar this time, and strangely fierce, clashed with those of his would-be persecutors.
"None of it now! Want one for yourself, do you? Stand back there! Give him a chance to breathe! Ought to be ashamed, some of you."
The Colonel opened his eyes to find Ernie standing over him.
"Ah, Caspar," he said faintly.
Then Ruth came swiftly out of the dissipating crowd towards them. She was flashing, glorious, with tumultuous bosom. Swept by her emotion she forgot for the moment the undeclared war that was raging between this lean old man and herself: she did not even notice his distress.
"He's such a battler, Joe is!" she cried.
All that was combative in the Colonel rose desperately to grip and fight the same qualities in her.
"He's not the only one," he said feebly, and musing with a vacuous smile on the strange medley of vast world-tragedy and tiny domestic drama sank slowly into unconsciousness, Ernie's arm about him, Ernie's kind face anxious above him. "Watch it, Caspar!" he whispered. "Danger!"
He came round slowly to hear voices wrangling above him.