'Florence says,' said Kate, reminded of that, 'that those people at Primmerose have lost their third girl this month. The girls simply won't stay, and Florence says she doesn't blame them. They're dreadfully common people, I'm afraid, those Primmerose people. There are some funny stories going round about them, only of course one can't encourage Florence to talk. I believe the amount of wine and spirits they take in is something dreadful. In wartime, too. It does seem sad, doesn't it? You'd think people might restrain themselves just now, but some seem never to think of that. Mr. Alison says all this luxury and intemperance is quite shameful. He preached on it on Sunday night. His idea is that the war was sent us as a judgment, for all our wicked luxury and vice, and it will never cease till we are converted, Lord Derby or no Lord Derby, conscription or no conscription. He says all that is just a question of detail and method, but the only way to stop the war is a change of life. He was very forcible, I thought.' 'Perhaps,' said Mrs. Frampton, 'that's what Mr. Doye meant when he said, didn't he, how all these measures, conscription and so on, don't make so much difference after all. No, it was Evie said it, wasn't it? and Mr. Doye agreed and seemed quite pleased with her, I thought. Perhaps he meant the same as Mr. Alison, about a change of life. I expect he's very good himself, isn't he, Alix?' Evie, to whom goodness meant dullness, said, 'I bet he isn't. Is he, Al?' '_I_ don't know,' said Alix. 'You'd better ask him.' She added after a moment, 'I'll ask him for you on Sunday, if you like. We're going out somewhere, if it's fine.' 'It was very kind of him to ask me too,' said Kate. 'You must explain to him how it is I can't, with its being Sunday.' Across the table Alix's eyes met Evie's, suddenly widened in guileless, surprised mirth, with a touch of chagrin. Evie said, 'Why, whatever did he ask Kate for? He might have known she wouldn't.... Men are ...' 'You're not coming, you're not coming, you're _not_ coming,' said Alix within herself, breathing fast and clenching her napkin tight in her two hands and staring across the table defensively out of narrowed eyes. So they left it at that. 8 But in the night Evie won. One may begin these things, if sufficiently unhinged and demoralised by private emotions and public events, but one cannot always keep them up. The policeman paced up and down, up and down Spring Hill, the rain dripped, the gutters gurgled, Evie breathed softly, asleep, the dark night peered through waving curtains, Alix turned her pillow over and over and cursed. 'I suppose,' she said at last, at 2 A.M., 'she's got to come....' At 2.30 she said, 'It will be a beastly day,' and sighed crossly and began to go to sleep. 9 At half-past seven, while Evie did her hair, Alix said, on a weary yawn, 'I say, you'd better come out with us on Sunday, as Kate won't.'