“Thanks.”

“What about money?”

“I’ll write you.  No hurry.”

“What sort of a woman is Laurencine?  I’ve scarcely set eyes on her.”

“She’s fine.”

“She is?”

“Yes.”

“Will she hit it off with your mother?”

“Trust her.”

“Well, then, I think I’ll have one o’ them cigarettes.”

They smoked in taciturnity, nervous but relieved.  They had said what they had to say to each other.  After a time George remarked: 

“I heard last night there was a chance of me being Vice-President of the Institute this year if I hadn’t gone into the Army.”

Mr. Clayhanger raised his eyebrows.

“That’ll keep all right for later.”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Clayhanger hurried into the dining-room.  She had removed her hat and gloves.

“Lois wants to see you.”

“I was just coming up.  I’ve got to go now.”  He glanced at his watch.

“Go where?” It was like Mrs. Clayhanger to ask a question to which she knew the answer.  Her ardent eyes, set a little too close together in the thin, lined, nervous face, burned upon him challengingly.

“I told you!  I have to report at Headquarters before noon.”

“But you don’t mean to say you’re going to leave your wife like this!  She’s very ill.”

“I’m bound to leave her.”

“But you can’t leave her.”

The Alderman said: 

“The boy’s quite right.  If he’s got to report he’s got to report.”

“And supposing she was dying?”

“Now, missis, we needn’t suppose that.  She isn’t.”

“It would be just the same if she was,” Mrs. Clayhanger retorted bitterly.  “I don’t know what men are coming to.  But I know this—­all husbands are selfish.  They probably don’t know it, but they are.”

She wept angrily.

“Don’t you understand I’m in the machine now, mater?” said George resentfully as he left the room.

In the bedroom Lois lay on her back, pale, perspiring, moaning.  He kissed her, glanced at the doctor for instructions, and departed.  Lois was not in a condition to talk, and the doctor wished her not to speak.  Then George went to the kitchen and took leave of the children, and incidentally of the servants.  The nurse was arriving as he re-entered the dining-room; he had seized his cap in the hall and put it on.

“Better give me an address,” said the Alderman.

“You might wire during the day,” George said, scribbling on a loose leaf from his pocket-book, which he had to search for in unfamiliar pockets.

“The idea had occurred to me,” the Alderman smiled.

“Au revoir, mater.”

“But you’ve got plenty of time!” she protested.

“I know,” said he.  “I’m not going to be late.  I haven’t the slightest notion where Headquarters are, and supposing the taxi had a break-down!”