"I knew he wanted to go. But I didn't think he'd go so soon. I didn't really think he'd go at all. They told me I needn't worry, that he hadn't a chance."
"Who told you?"
"Oh, everybody. The General and Colonel Braithwaite and Charlie, and
Bertie, and Reggie—at least he told Norah—and the people at the War
Office and the Admiralty and the Embassies."
"You went to them? You went to the War Office?"
"I went everywhere where he did, or as near as I could get. And they all told me the same thing—he hadn't a chance. Not the ghost of a chance. I really thought he hadn't. When you think of the men—men who can do things, who are dying to go and are being kept back—"
"You were helping him to go?" I said. I saw a vision, or I tried to see it, a pathetic vision of Viola following poor Jimmy in his pursuit of secretaries and ambassadors, doing insane, impossible things to help him.
And then I saw Viola herself. She was looking at me, with all her features tilted in that funny way she had.
"Well—no," she said; "I wasn't exactly helping."
"What were you doing, then?"
"I'm afraid I was trying to stop him."