IX
CONVERSES WITH A CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR
“Yes,” said Mr. Lavender, when they had proceeded some twenty miles along the road for home, “my hunger is excessive. If we come across an hotel, Joe, pull up.”
“Right-o, sir,” returned Joe. “'Otels, ain't what they were, but we'll find something. I've got your coupons.”
Mr. Lavender, who was seated beside his chauffeur on the driving-seat, while Blink occupied in solitude the body of the car, was silent for a minute, revolving a philosophic thought.
“Do you find,” he said suddenly, “that compulsory sacrifice is doing you good, Joe?”
“It's good for my thirst, sir,” replied Joe. “Never was so powerful thirsty in me life as I've been since they watered beer. There's just 'enough in it to tickle you. That bottle o' Bass you would 'ave 'ad at lunch is the last of the old stock at 'ome, sir; an' the sight of it fair gave me the wind up. To think those blighters 'ad it! Wish I'd known they was Germans—I wouldn't 'ave weakened on it.”
“Do not, I beg,” said Mr. Lavender, “remind me of that episode. I sometimes think,” he went on as dreamily as his hunger would permit, “that being forced to deprive oneself awakens one's worst passions; that is, of course, speaking rather as a man than a public man. What do you think will happen, Joe, when we are no longer obliged to sacrifice ourselves?
“Do wot we've been doin all along—sacrifice someone else,” said Joe lightly.