I attempted, in _Sonia_, to trace the adolescence of the generation that grew to manhood in time to meet the shock of the war. That war ends in the first line of the present volume; and, before the last page, the government that was charged to bring peace back to the sparse survivors has itself passed away. One phase in history has been concluded; and this series, which aimed at describing a single English scene in the life of a single generation, ends with the end of that phase. I ask no one to share any regret which I may feel in taking leave of characters that have been my constant companions for more than eight years. If they are no more likable than the men and women we meet in daily life, I have at least never allowed parental affection to cover up their shortcomings. I present them to you as a small mark of a deep devotion. STEPHEN MCKENNA. “All our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.” . . . SHAKESPEARE: _Macbeth_. CONTENTS PART ONE CHAPTER I TRUCE II RETROSPECT III THE DAWNING OF MORN IV AFTER THE DELUGE V THE RED ACCOUNT PART TWO I THE NAKEDNESS OF THE LAND II THAT WHICH REMAINED III AS YOU SOW IV IN A GILDED CAGE V “UN SACRIFICE INUTILE” PART THREE I TO-MORROW AND TO-MORROW II THE TEST III TWO IN THE FIELD PART ONE CHAPTER ONE TRUCE “‘Rise up, rise up, thou Dives, and take again thy gold, And thy women and thy housen as they were to thee of old. It may be grace hath found thee In the furnace where We bound thee, And that thou shalt bring the peace My Son foretold.’” RUDYARD KIPLING: _The Peace of Dives_. 1 “_The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month_ . . .” Though the departmental order was marked “secret”, I did not hesitate to give my wife a hint of its contents. All the world—if the armistice were accepted—could read the news next morning. And the armistice would be accepted. Silence hung over town and country throughout the misty, long hours of Sunday: it was, I felt, as though all England were at prayer. Faint restlessness muttered throughout the lagging, cold hours of Sunday night: it was as though all England were keeping vigil. “You _can’t_ doubt,” I told Barbara, as we parted at the door of the Admiralty. “With any luck, the news is waiting for me.”