He endeavoured to recapture something of that transparent sunlit feeling, before it all filtered away....
"Listen, darling——"
"Yes?" She twisted round; and resting both her elbows upon his knees, gave him a sudden and disconcerting measure of her attention. Almost he was aware of his soul blinking nervously in a full flood of golden light.
"I'm glad you feel that you want to give yourself up to the war, Pat. Every man and every woman and every child in the kingdom ought to be feeling the same. No matter if war is right or wrong; no matter if this is the war that ends war, or else another of those beastly life-spilling limb-lopping campaigns that signify nothing in the end—still, any great upheaval is welcome when it means all eyes to the right-about, all eyes fixed steadily upon the same vision—instead of glancing askew; the shutting-down of obstinate lids; short sight pitted unfairly against long sight; sight that even in peace-time was bloodshot and distorted.—Oh, those little squinters at some little personal advantage to be gained——"
"Gareth, if everyone stopped to say all that before they got to work, it would waste a lot of the national energy, wouldn't it?"
He was silent, bitterly offended.
"I wasn't proposing to pour out my sentiments about the war at the street-corners," he remarked at last. "But in a man's own home——"
She kissed him. "I was rude. I'm sorry. But frankly—there isn't much time nowadays for 'sentiments about the war.'"
Gareth said simply: "I want to help as well. Both of us, Pat. That's what I was trying to say."
"Good! Loud and enthusiastic applause. There's a mighty lot to be done. Not for the old honour-and-glory business. This is just an overwhelming shake-up and shake-together; and ... I'd hate to feel we didn't stand shoulder-to-shoulder over the war, Gareth."