“The air of Kensington doesn’t seem to suit you, my young friend,” she said. “The longer you have been my guest, the oftener you fill your glass and empty your cigar-case. Those are bad signs in a young man. When you first came here you arrived invalided by a wound. In your place, I should not have exposed myself to be shot, with no other object in view than describing a battle in a newspaper. I suppose tastes differ. Are you ill? Does your wound still plague you?” “Not in the least.” “Are you out of spirits?” Horace Holmcroft dropped his fork, rested his elbows on the table, and answered: “Awfully.” Even Lady Janet’s large toleration had its limits. It embraced every human offense except a breach of good manners. She snatched up the nearest weapon of correction at hand--a tablespoon--and rapped her young friend smartly with it on the arm that was nearest to her. “My table is not the club table,” said the old lady. “Hold up your head. Don’t look at your fork--look at me. I allow nobody to be out of spirits in My house. I consider it to be a reflection on Me. If our quiet life here doesn’t suit you, say so plainly, and find something else to do. There is employment to be had, I suppose--if you choose to apply for it? You needn’t smile. I don’t want to see your teeth--I want an answer.” Horace admitted, with all needful gravity, that there was employment to be had. The war between France and Germany, he remarked, was still going on: the newspaper had offered to employ him again in the capacity of correspondent. “Don’t speak of the newspapers and the war!” cried Lady Janet, with a sudden explosion of anger, which was genuine anger this time. “I detest the newspapers! I won’t allow the newspapers to enter this house. I lay the whole blame of the blood shed between France and Germany at their door.” Horace’s eyes opened wide in amazement. The old lady was evidently in earnest. “What can you possibly mean?” he asked. “Are the newspapers responsible for the war?” “Entirely responsible,” answered Lady Janet. “Why, you don’t understand the age you live in! Does anybody do anything nowadays (fighting included) without wishing to see it in the newspapers? _I_ subscribe to a charity; _thou_ art presented with a testimonial; _he_ preaches a sermon; _we_ suffer a grievance; _you_ make a discovery; _they_ go to church and get married. And I, thou, he; we, you, they, all want one and the same thing--we want to see it in the papers. Are kings, soldiers, and diplomatists exceptions to the general rule of humanity? Not they! I tell you seriously, if the newspapers of Europe had one and all decided not to take the smallest notice in print of the war between France and Germany, it is my firm conviction the war would have come to an end for want of encouragement long since. Let the pen cease to advertise the sword, and I, for one, can see the result. No report--no fighting.”