When the war broke out, he discovered, to his horror, that Phyllis actually had political ideas--unshakable, obstinate ideas opposed to his own--and that he had been nourishing in his bosom a viperous patriot. Phyllis, for her part, realised with equal horror the practical significance of her father's windy theories. When Randall, who had stolen her heart, took to visiting the house, in order, as far as she could make out, to talk treason with her father, the strain of the situation grew more than she could bear. She fled to Betty for advice. Betty promptly stepped in and whisked her off to the hospital. It was on the morning on which Randall interviewed me in the garden, the morning after he had broken with Gedge, that Phyllis, having a little off-time, went home. She found her father in the office making out a few bills. He thrust forward his long chin and aggressive beard and scowled at her. "Oh, it's you, is it? Come at last where your duty calls you, eh?" "I always come when I can, father," she replied. She bent down and kissed his cheek. He caught her roughly round the waist and, leaning back in his chair, looked up at her sourly. "How long are you going on defying me like this?" She tried to disengage herself, but his arm was too strong. "Oh, father," she said, rather wearily, "don't let us go over this old argument again." "But suppose I find some new argument? Suppose I send you packing altogether, refuse to contribute further to your support. What then?" She started at the threat but replied valiantly: "I should have to earn my own living." "How are you going to do it?" "There are heaps of ways." He laughed. "There ain't; as you'd soon find out. They don't even pay you for being scullery-maid to a lot of common soldiers." She protested against that view of her avocation. In the perfectly appointed Wellingsford Hospital she had no scullery work. She was a probationer, in training as a nurse. He still gripped her. "The particular kind of tomfoolery you are up to doesn't matter. We needn't quarrel. I've another proposition to put before you--much more to your fancy, I think. You like this Mr. Randall Holmes, don't you?" She shivered a little and flushed deep red. Her father had never touched on the matter before. She said, straining away: "I don't want to talk about Mr. Holmes." "But I do. Come, my dear. In this life there must be always a certain amount of give and take. I'm not the man to drive a one-sided bargain. I'll make you a fair offer--as between father and daughter. I'll wipe out all that's past. In leaving me like this, when misfortune has come upon me, you've been guilty of unfilial conduct--no one can deny it. But I'll overlook everything, forgive you fully and take you to my heart again and leave you free to do whatever you like without interfering with your opinions, if you'll promise me one thing--"