“We don’t want a preventive League of Nations,” Peter expanded. “It’s got to be creative or nothing. Or else we shall be in a sort of perpetual Coronation year—with nothing doing on account of the processions. Horrible!”
For a little while Oswald made no reply. He could not recall a single sentence of the lost Valediction that was at all appropriate here, and he was put out and distressed beyond measure that Peter could find anything to “like” about the Germans.
“A World Peace for its own sake is impossible,” Peter went on. “The Old Experimenter would certainly put a spoke into that wheel.”
“Who is the Old Experimenter?” asked Oswald.
“He’s a sort of God I have,” said Peter. “Something between theology and a fairy tale. I dreamt about him. When I was delirious. He doesn’t rule the world or anything of that sort, because he doesn’t want to, but he keeps on dropping new things into it. To see what happens. Like a man setting himself problems to work out in his head. He lives in a little out-of-the-way office. That’s the idea.”
“You haven’t told me about him,” said Joan.
“I shall some day,” said Peter. “When I feel so disposed....”
“This is very disconcerting,” said Oswald, much perplexed. He scowled at the fire before him. “But you do realize the need there is for some form of world state and some ending of war? Unless mankind is to destroy itself altogether.”
“Certainly, sir,” said Peter. “But we aren’t going to do that on a peace proposition simply. It’s got to be a positive proposal. You know, sir——”
“I wish you’d call me Nobby,” said Oswald.