'But, Max, another? Now I see your scheme of universal peace quite puffed away!'
'This will bring it nearer!' Maxineff said enthusiastically.
Mrs. Maxineff shrugged her shoulders as she walked toward the long windows.
'Stay to dinner, will you?' she said to Noakes.
'Thanks, but I couldn't with propriety. I forgot to have luncheon to-day, and your tea has given me a keen anticipation for dinner; my zest would be embarrassing to you, and past my control. Besides, I shall take a half-mile walk to-night.'
'Lucky Becky! Then come again soon. Max, dear,' she said, turning to her husband, 'I cannot hear that again. I shall be on the porch.'
When she passed through the window, Noakes seated himself to listen to a new exposition of the subject which chiefly aroused Maxineff's interest and loosed his speech. Frequently he bent his head in acquiescence, and occasionally interjected a pertinent question under the guidance of his secondary mind; but his thoughts moved in a circle of smaller radius.
What to him was a policy of world-peace? He cared not a jot what scheme of universal pacification men dreamed over. Maxineff's argument was not new to him; when he gave it serious attention he doubted its practicability.
The older man's voice seemed far away, as it said, 'Each new explosive deals a blow at war,—war!'
Noakes had heard the same thing when his chief concluded with the government an agreement which secured to it the exclusive use of his latest product.