And there was Juke, with his white, amused face and heavy-lidded eyes that seemed always to see a long way, and Katherine Varick talking to a naval officer about periscopes (Jane kept in with some of the Admiralty), and Peacock, with whom Gideon had quarrelled two hours ago at the _Fact_ office, and who was now in the middle of a group of writing young men, as usual. Gideon looked at him cynically. Peacock was letting himself be got at by a clique. Gideon would rather have seen him talking to the practical looking sailor about periscopes. Peacock would have to be watched. He had shown signs lately of colouring the _Fact_ with prejudices. He was getting in with a push; he was dangerously in the movement. He was also leaning romancewards, and departing from the realm of pure truth. He had given credence to some strange travellers' tales of Foreign Office iniquities. As if that unfortunate and misguided body had not enough sins to its account without having melodramatic and uncharacteristic kidnappings and deeds of violence attributed to it. But Peacock had got in with those unhappy journalists and others who had been viewing Russia, and, barely escaping with their lives, had come back with nothing else, and least of all with that accurate habit of mind which would have qualified them as contributors to the _Weekly Fact_. It was not their fault (except for going to Russia), but Peacock should have had nothing to do with them. Katherine Varick crossed the room to Gideon, with a faint smile. 'Hallo. Enjoying life?' 'Precisely that.' 'I say, what are you doing with the _Fact_?' Gideon looked at her sourly. 'Oh, you've noticed it too. It's becoming quite pretty reading, isn't it. Less like a Blue Book.' 'Much less. I should say it was beginning to appeal to a wider circle. Is that the idea?' 'Don't ask me. Ask Peacock. Whatever the idea is, it's his, not mine.... But it's not a considered idea at all. It's merely a yielding to the (apparently) irresistible pressure of atmosphere.' 'I see. A truce with the Potter armies.' 'No. There's no such thing as a truce with them. It's the first steps of a retreat.' He said it sharply and suddenly, in the way of a man who is, at the moment, making a discovery. He turned and looked across the room at Peacock, who was talking and talking, in his clever, keen, pleasant way, not in the least like a Blue Book. 'We're _not_ like Blue Books,' Gideon muttered sadly. 'Hardly any one is. Unfortunate. Very unfortunate. What's one to do about it?' 'Lord Pinkerton would say, learn human nature as it is and build on it. Exploit its weaknesses, instead of tilting against them. Accept sentimentality and prejudice, and use them.' 'I am aware that he would.... What do _you_ say, Katherine?' 'Nothing. What's the use? I'm one of the Blue Books--not a fair judge, therefore.' 'No. You'd make no terms, ever.' 'I've never been tempted. One may have to make terms, sometimes.'