Bridget turned an almost triumphant look on her sister, as though the coup described had been her own.

‘Well, it isn’t right!’ said Nelly, passionately.  ’It isn’t—­it isn’t—­Bridget!  When the war’s costing so much—­and people are suffering and dying—­’

‘Oh, I know!’ said Bridget hastily.  ’You needn’t preach to me my dear child.  I only wanted you to look at facts.  You’re always so incurably sentimental!’

‘I’m not!’ Nelly protested, helplessly.  ’We make the facts.  If nobody bought the furs, the facts would be different.  George says it’s wicked to squander money, and live as if everything were just the same as it used to be.  And I agree with him!’

‘Of course you do!’ laughed Bridget. ’You don’t squander money, my dear!’

‘Only because I haven’t got it to spend, you mean?’ said Nelly, flushing.

’No—­but you should look at things sensibly.  The people who are making money are spending it—­oceans of it!  And the people who have money, like the Farrells, are spending it too.  Wait till you see how they live!’

‘But there’s the hospital!’ cried Nelly.

Bridget shrugged her shoulders.

’That’s because they can afford to give the hospital, and have the motor-cars too.  If they had to choose between hospitals and motor-cars!’

‘Lots of people do!’

‘You think Sir William Farrell looks like doing without things?’ said Bridget, provokingly.  Then she checked herself.  ’Of course I like Sir William very much.  But then I don’t see why he shouldn’t have motor-cars or any other nice thing he wants.’

’That’s because—­you don’t think enough—­you never think enough—­about the war!’ said Nelly, insistently.

Bridget’s look darkened.

’I would stop the war to-morrow—­I would make peace to-morrow—­if I could—­you know I would.  It will destroy us all—­ruin us all.  It’s sheer, stark lunacy.  There, you know what I think!’

‘I don’t see what it’s ever cost you, Bridget!’ said Nelly, breathing fast.

‘Oh, well, it’s very easy to say that—­but it isn’t argument.’

Bridget’s deep-set penetrating eyes glittered as she turned them on her sister.  ‘However, for goodness’ sake, don’t let’s quarrel about it.  It’s a lovely day, and we don’t often have a motor like this to drive in!’

The speaker leant back, giving herself up to the sensuous pleasure of the perfectly hung car, and the rapid movement through the summer air.  Wythburn and Thirlmere were soon passed; leaving them just time to notice the wrack and ruin which Manchester has made of the once lovely shore of Thirlmere, where hideous stretches of brown mud, and the ruins of long submerged walls and dwellings, reappear with every dry summer to fling reproach in the face of the destroyer.