"Sanction be damned!" Roy cut in sharply. "You might as well say Shakespeare sanctioned theft because he wrote, 'Who steals my purse steals trash!' The only sanction worth anything is inside you. And you didn't seem to find it there. But let's get at the point. Did you refuse?"
"No. Only—for the first time, I demurred; and because the need is urgent, he became very violent—in language. It was almost a quarrel."
"Clear proof you scored! Did you mention—Arúna?"
Dyán shook his head. "If I become violent, it is not only language——"
"No. You're a man. And now you're awake again, I can tell you things—but I can't stay all night."
"No. He is coming back. Only gone to Cantonments—on business."
"What sort of business?"
Dyán chewed his lip and looked uncomfortable.
"Never mind, old chap. I can see a church by daylight! He's getting at the troops. Spreading lies about the Armistice. And after that——?"
"He is returning—about midnight, hoping to find me in a more reasonable mind——"