“Oh, you're demobilized, are you? That's why you've been away so long. Monsieur Valters said he didn't know where you were.... It's better that way, isn't it?” “Yes,” said Andrews, starting up the stairs. “Monsieur Valters is in now,” went on the old woman, talking after him. “And you've got in just in time for the first of May.” “Oh, yes, the strike,” said Andrews, stopping half-way up the flight. “It'll be dreadful,” said the old woman. “I hope you won't go out. Young folks are so likely to get into trouble...Oh, but all your friends have been worried about your being away so long.” “Have they?'” said Andrews. He continued up the stairs. “Au revoir, Monsieur.” “Au revoir, Madame.” III “No, nothing can make me go back now. It's no use talking about it.” “But you're crazy, man. You're crazy. One man alone can't buck the system like that, can he, Henslowe?” Walters was talking earnestly, leaning across the table beside the lamp. Henslowe, who sat very stiff on the edge of a chair, nodded with compressed lips. Andrews lay at full length on the bed, out of the circle of light. “Honestly, Andy,” said Henslowe with tears in his voice, “I think you'd better do what Walters says. It's no use being heroic about it.” “I'm not being heroic, Henny,” cried Andrews, sitting up on the bed. He drew his feet under him, tailor fashion, and went on talking very quietly. “Look.. It's a purely personal matter. I've got to a point where I don't give a damn what happens to me. I don't care if I'm shot, or if I live to be eighty...I'm sick of being ordered round. One more order shouted at my head is not worth living to be eighty... to me. That's all. For God's sake let's talk about something else.” “But how many orders have you had shouted at your head since you got in this School Detachment? Not one. You can put through your discharge application probably....” Walters got to his feet, letting the chair crash to the floor behind him. He stopped to pick it up. “Look here; here's my proposition,” he went on. “I don't think you are marked A.W.O.L. in the School office. Things are so damn badly run there. You can turn up and say you've been sick and draw your back pay. And nobody'll say a thing. Or else I'll put it right up to the guy who's top sergeant. He's a good friend of mine. We can fix it up on the records some way. But for God's sake don't ruin your whole life on account of a little stubbornness, and some damn fool anarchistic ideas or other a feller like you ought to have had more sense than to pick up....” “He's right, Andy,” said Henslowe in a low voice. “Please don't talk any more about it. You've told me all that before,” said Andrews sharply. He threw himself back on the bed and rolled over towards the wall. They were silent a long time. A sound of voices and footsteps drifted up from the courtyard.