"Of course a fellow like that--in that condition!--could not understand matters of high policy. It is imperative that these fellows should not have the higher command. It would pander to their insane spirit of militarism. They _must_ be hindered. I'm talking, of course, between ourselves, but my husband says that that is the conviction in the very highest circles. To let them have their way, even if it led to earlier success, would be to establish a precedent--so my husband says!--compared with which the loss of a few lives. . . ." Valentine sprang up, her face distorted. "For the sake of Christ," she cried out, "as you believe that Christ died for you, try to understand that millions of men's lives are at stake. . . ." Mrs. Duchemin smiled. "My poor child," she said, "if you moved in the higher circles you would look at these things with more aloofness. . . ." Valentine leant on the back of a high chair for support. "You don't move in the higher circles," she said. "For Heaven's sake--for your own--remember that you are a woman, not for ever and for always a snob. You were a good woman once. You stuck to your husband for quite a long time. . . ." Mrs. Duchemin, in her chair, had thrown herself back. "My good girl," she said, "have you gone mad?" Valentine said: "Yes, very nearly. I've got a brother at sea; I've had a man I loved out there for an infinite time. You can understand that, I suppose, even if you can't understand how one can go mad merely at the thoughts of suffering at all. . . . And I know, Edith Ethel, that you are afraid of my opinion of you, or you wouldn't have put up all the subterfuges and concealments of all these years. . . ." Mrs. Duchemin said quickly: "Oh, my good girl. . . . If you've got personal interests at stake you can't be expected to take abstract views of the higher matters. We had better change the subject." Valentine said: "Yes, do. Get on with your excuses for not asking me and mother to your knighthood party." Mrs. Duchemin, too, rose at that. She felt at her amber beads with long fingers that turned very slightly at the tips. She had behind her all her mirrors, the drops of her lustres, shining points of gilt and of the polish of dark woods. Valentine thought that she had never seen anyone so absolutely impersonate kindness, tenderness and dignity. She said: "My dear, I was going to suggest that it was the sort of party to which you might not care to come. . . . The people will be stiff and formal and you probably haven't got a frock." Valentine said: "Oh, I've got a frock all right. But there's a Jacob's ladder in my party stockings and that's the sort of ladder you can't kick down." She couldn't help saying that.