"I daresay you have. But that's what you were sent round for. General Campion said you were the brainiest chap in his command. He's gone out now, worse luck. . . . What's the matter with the Command Depôts? Is it the men? Or is it the officers? You needn't mention names."
Tietjens said:
"Kind of Campion. It isn't the officers and it isn't the men. It's the foul system. You get men who think they've deserved well of their country—and they damn well have!—and you crop their heads. . . ."
"That's the M.O.s." the dark man said. "They don't want lice."
"If they prefer mutinies . . ." Tietjens said. "A man wants to walk with his girl and have a properly oiled quiff. They don't like being regarded as convicts. That's how they are regarded."
The dark man said:
"All right. Go on. Why don't you sit down?"
"I'm a little in a hurry," Tietjens said. "I'm going out to-morrow and I've got a brother and people waiting below."
The dark man said:
"Oh, I'm sorry. . . . But damn. You're the sort of man we want at home. Do you want to go? We can, no doubt, get you stopped if you don't."