M. (_Aside_.) 'No fault of yours if either weren't all you say. You've forgotten the tune when you were insane about the Herriott woman. You always were a good hand at forgetting. (_Aloud_.) Not more mad than men who go to the other extreme. Be reasonable, Gaddy. Your roof-beams are sound enough. G. That was only a way of speaking. I've been uneasy and worried about the Wife ever since that awful business three years ago--when--I nearly lost her. Can you wonder? M. Oh, a shell never falls twice in the same place. You've paid your toll to misfortune--why should your wife be picked out more than anybody else's? G. I can _talk_ just as reasonably as you can, but you don't understand--you don't understand. And then there's The _Butcha._ Deuce knows where the Ayah takes him to sit in the evening! He has a bit of a cough. Haven't you noticed it? M. Bosh! The Brigadier's jumping out of his skin with pure condition. He's got a muzzle like a rose-leaf and the chest of a two-year-old. What's demoralised you? G. Funk. That's the long and the short of it. Funk! M. But what _is_ there to funk? G. Everything. It's ghastly. M. Ah! I see. You don't want to fight, And by Jingo when we do, You've got the kid, you've got the Wife, You've got the money, too. That's about the case, eh? G. I suppose that's it. But it's not for myself. It's because of _them._ At least I think it is. M. Are you sure? Looking at the matter in a cold-blooded light, the Wife is provided for even if you were wiped out to-night. She has an ancestral home to go to, money, and the Brigadier to carry on the illustrious name. G. Then it is for myself or because they are part of me. You don't see it. My life's so good, so pleasant, as it is, that I want to make it quite safe. Can't you understand? M. Perfectly. 'Shelter-pit for the Orf'cer's charger,' as they say in the Line. G. And I have everything to my hand to make it so. I'm sick of the strain and the worry for their sakes out here; and there isn't a single real difficulty to prevent my dropping it altogether. It'll only cost me--Jack, I hope you'll never know the shame that I've been going through for the past six months. M. Hold on there! I don't wish to be told. Every man has his moods and tenses sometimes. G. (_Laughing bitterly_.) Has he? What do you call craning over to see where your near-fore lands? M. In my case it means that I have been on the Considerable Bend, and have come to parade with a Head and a Hand. It passes in three strides. G. (_Lowering voice_.) It _never_ passes with me, Jack. I'm always thinking about it. Phil Gadsby funking a fall on parade! Sweet picture, isn't it! Draw it for me. M. (_Gravely_.) Heaven forbid! A man like you can't be as bad as that. A fall is no nice thing, but one never gives it a thought.