“England will keep out of it.”
“She can’t.”
They argued without acerbity, as thousands argued during those early days of July, 1914. But it never occurred to either that war, if it did come, would affect them personally. Soldiers and sailors would do their duty; civilians would carry on much as usual. No modern war could last very long. Finally, as they neared home, Grimshaw said with a laugh:
“Whatever happens, I can’t see your Autocrat ‘downed.’ ”
“It would be a pathetic spectacle,” observed Pawley. “I have the kindliest feelings toward her, but I detest her system.”
“You blame Gridley.”
“Ah! He’s the source of most of the mischief. And she doesn’t know it. I hope with all my heart that you will ‘down’ him.”
“He may ‘down’ me,” said Grimshaw, thinking of Essex experiences, where his poorer patients had been grievously maltreated by just such another.
“I back you, my boy.” Pawley pressed a strong arm reassuringly.