'Well, you tell him so. I wash my hands of them. I can't fathom either of them. Here they are!'
Voices ascending the stairs announced the party. Cicely came in first; tired and travel-stained, and apparently in the worst of tempers. But she seemed glad to see Nelly Sarratt, whom she kissed, to the astonishment of her Cousin Hester, who was not as yet aware of the new relations between the two. And then, flinging herself into a chair beside Nelly, she declared that she was dead-beat, that the train had been intolerably full of khaki, and that soldiers ought to have trains to themselves.
'Thank your stars, Cicely, that you are allowed to travel at all,' said
Farrell. 'No civilian nowadays matters a hap'orth.'
'And then we talk about Prussian Militarism!' cried Cicely. And she went off at score describing the invasion of her compartment at Rugby by a crowd of young officers, whose manners were 'atrocious.'
'What was their crime?' asked Marsworth, quietly. He sat in the background, cigarette in hand, a strong figure, rather harshly drawn, black hair slightly grizzled, a black moustache, civilian clothes. He had filled out since the preceding summer and looked much better in health. But his left arm was still generally in its sling.
'They had every crime!' said Cicely impatiently. 'It isn't worth discriminating.'
Marsworth raised his eyebrows.
'Poor boys!'
Cicely flushed.
'You think, of course, I have no right to criticise anything in khaki!'