"Well, that charge can never be brought against you," Eric interrupted with a laugh.
Jack bent down and spent some moment in knocking out his pipe against the fender. His parents and sister still did not know that he was even acquainted with Barbara; but Eric might well have heard gossip from Oakleigh or a dozen others.
"Well, take Loring's case! He spent years over that business with Sonia Dainton. Then he got sane. Then he fell in love with Oakleigh's cousin—engagement announced, flourish of trumpets, an immense ball in honour of the occasion. The war comes along, and it all fades into the background. I suppose they'll be married as soon as it can be arranged, but the war's the important thing in his life now. He's transferring to a service battalion as soon as he possibly can; with any luck he'll get killed.... By the way, you saw that Jack Summertown had been knocked out? In the first casualty list of all. And Archie Stornaway. And Charles Framlingham. All three heirs to peerages, and two of them were staying with the Lorings at Chepstow when I was there. If you'd been told a year ago.... But, by Jove, this is pretty much what O'Rane prophesied ten years ago. What was his bet? One or two of us have gone under, one or two are dead—with more to follow. One or two married. One or two have made pretty fair fools of ourselves. O'Rane himself has done well. And you're going to be our new playwright. I wasn't doing badly at the bar.... It all seems so small now."
Lady Lane came in with tea, and soon afterwards Jack left. He was due back in London to dine with Loring, who had written mysteriously to beg him, as a great favour, to arrange a meeting the moment that he found a free night. Jack guessed that Barbara was in some way connected with the request, but he could not imagine what she wanted. For two months he had divided his time between drilling and being drilled; there were new friendships to form and new confidences to exchange; the questions that mattered were the etiquette of the mess and the ethics of saluting—as they had once been the code and spirit of a public school and, later, the tone and rule of decorous society. Was the battalion to be sent out as a whole or used for drafts? Undoubtedly you would secure greater unity and esprit de corps by keeping it intact; but the men were not all equally trained, and the latest comers would set the pace for all. There were heated debates between the rival sects, and the colonel was claimed by both sides alternately. Once or twice Jack stepped aside and smiled at the picture of himself working under a captain of nineteen and taking a warm interest in mess politics. It was hardly the end that he had imagined; but at least he had worked himself into iron condition until his nerves were under control and he was too tired for introspection. Loring's invitation was the first test of fortitude; the library recalled their debates of other days, and, if he went there from friendship, he was determined not to exhume something that had been killed at Chepstow and buried by the war.
"I'm glad you were able to come," Loring began. "I'll say what I've got to say and get it over as soon as possible. I'm not doing this on my own initiative. Have you seen Barbara lately?"
"Not since your party. Jim, I'd sooner not hear another word on this subject——"
"I'm afraid you've got to, old man, for my sake. She's in London and she asked me to give you this with my own hand."
He held out a letter, and Jack looked at it in silence. The envelope was addressed in pencil; the upright awkwardness in some of the characters told him that it had been written, like so many others, in bed; a few words were smudged, and this, with the bent corners, suggested that it had probably been composed some time before.
"I don't want it," he said after a long hesitation.