The General threw the paper-knife on to a small table, where it fell with a crash. “Weakness? Wickedness? Wantonness?” “The three words I was thinking of make Sir Maurice Harpenden.” Then, curiously, Sir Maurice darted a look at Hilary, as though to see how he stood with Hilary. Hilary was white. He said: “I’ve told you, Maurice, that you’re not free from blame. You’ve been too damned imperious with these children.” “All this,” Guy murmured, “has got me beat, I’m afraid.” “It hasn’t got you beat at all, Guy,” snapped Hilary. White he was. “Maurice, years ago, didn’t realise that in our time we are not our children’s masters. Their ideas are not ours, their ambitions are not ours. And there’s no reason why they should be, since ours have sent all Europe to the devil.” Then Iris’s voice slashed the room like a sharp knife: “Maurice, did you understand what I said? I am here to-night that you should understand what you have done.” “My dear Iris!” said Sir Maurice, again picking up the paper-knife. One saw why he had been so successful a soldier. He could evade any issue. “Boy and girl love!” he said helplessly to Guy. He looked at me. “Boy and girl love!” he said helplessly. “You mustn’t despise it, Maurice,” Iris suddenly smiled, and I had a fancy that her smile was one of protecting a child from a man’s good-sense. “It won’t do to despise that boy and girl love, Maurice. It has lasted nearly all my life so far. And it will last me until I die.” She looked at Guy, and as soon as she looked away from the General the clear, untroubled, boyish look came back into those enormous eyes. “Napier and I were in love at eighteen, Guy. Napier and I have always been in love. But Sir Maurice had other ideas for Napier, and this is the result of them. I am sorry, Guy, but I am also human.” “Love!” rapped out Sir Maurice. He was not smiling now.