So, if you ignored the lost harvests of three years, the lost industrial output of the richest industrial region of the country, the smashed machinery, the barked fruit trees, the three years' loss of four and a half-tenths of the coal output for three years--and the loss of life!--we could go to our allies and say: "All your yappings about losses are the merest bulls. You can perfectly well afford to reinforce the weak places of your own lines. We intend to send our new troops to the Near East, where lies our true interest!" And, though they might sooner or later point out the fallacy, you would by so much have put off the abhorrent expedient of a single command. Valentine, though it took her away from her own thoughts, couldn't help saying: "But weren't you arguing against your own convictions?" He said: "Yes, of course I was. In the lightness of my heart! It's always a good thing to formulate the other fellow's objections." She had turned half round in her chair. They were gazing into each other's eyes, he from above, she from below. She had no doubt of his love: he, she knew, could have no doubt of hers. She said: "But isn't it dangerous? To show these people how to do it?" He said: "Oh, no, no. No! You don't know what a good soul little Vinnie is. I don't think you've ever been quite just to Vincent Macmaster! He'd as soon think of picking my pocket as of picking my brains. The soul of honour!" Valentine had felt a queer, queer sensation. She was not sure afterwards whether she had felt it before she had realised that Sylvia Tietjens was looking at them. She stood there, very erect, a queer smile on her face. Valentine could not be sure whether it was kind, cruel, or merely distantly ironic; but she was perfectly sure it showed, whatever was behind it, that its wearer knew all that there was to know of her, Valentine's, feelings for Tietjens and for Tietjens' feelings for her. . . . It was like being a woman and man in adultery in Trafalgar Square. Behind Sylvia's back, their mouths agape, were the two staff officers. Their dark hairs were too untidy for them to amount to much, but, such as they were, they were the two most presentable males of the assembly--and Sylvia had snaffled them. Mrs. Tietjens said: "Oh, Christopher! I'm going on to the Basil's." Tietjens said: "All right. I'll pop Mrs. Wannop into the tube as soon as she's had enough of it, and come along and pick you up!" Sylvia had just drooped her long eyelashes, in sign of salutation, to Valentine Wannop, and had drifted through the door, followed by her rather unmilitary military escort in khaki and scarlet.