“Three thousand years ahead perhaps,” said Mr. Britling, “there will still be men with the same sadness....  And yet—­and yet....  No.  Just now I have no elasticity.  It is not in my nature to despair, but things are pressing me down.  I don’t recover as I used to recover.  I tell myself still that though the way is long and hard the spirit of hope, the spirit of creation, the generosities and gallantries in the heart of man, must end in victory.  But I say that over as one repeats a worn-out prayer.  The light is out of the sky for me.  Sometimes I doubt if it will ever come back.  Let younger men take heart and go on with the world.  If I could die for the right thing now—­instead of just having to live on in this world of ineffective struggle—­I would be glad to die now, Carmine....”

Section 17

In these days also Mr. Direck was very unhappy.

For Cissie, at any rate, had not lost touch with the essential issues of the war.  She was as clear as ever that German militarism and the German attack on Belgium and France was the primary subject of the war.  And she dismissed all secondary issues.  She continued to demand why America did not fight.  “We fight for Belgium.  Won’t you fight for the Dutch and Norwegian ships?  Won’t you even fight for your own ships that the Germans are sinking?”

Mr. Direck attempted explanations that were ill received.

“You were ready enough to fight the Spaniards when they blew up the Maine.  But the Germans can sink the Lusitania!  That’s—­as you say—­a different proposition.”

His mind was shot by an extraordinary suspicion that she thought the Lusitania an American vessel.  But Mr. Direck was learning his Cissie, and he did not dare to challenge her on this score.

“You haven’t got hold of the American proposition,” he said.  “We’re thinking beyond wars.”

“That’s what we have been trying to do,” said Cissie.  “Do you think we came into it for the fun of the thing?”

“Haven’t I shown in a hundred ways that I sympathise?”

“Oh—­sympathy!...”

He fared little better at Mr. Britling’s hands.  Mr. Britling talked darkly, but pointed all the time only too plainly at America.  “There’s two sorts of liberalism,” said Mr. Britling, “that pretend to be the same thing; there’s the liberalism of great aims and the liberalism of defective moral energy....”

Section 18

It was not until Teddy had been missing for three weeks that Hugh wrote about him.  The two Essex battalions on the Flanders front were apparently wide apart, and it was only from home that Hugh learnt what had happened.

“You can’t imagine how things narrow down when one is close up against them.  One does not know what is happening even within a few miles of us, until we get the newspapers.  Then, with a little reading between the lines and some bold guessing, we fit our little bit of experience with a general shape.  Of course I’ve wondered at times about Teddy.  But oddly enough I’ve never thought of him very much as being out here.  It’s queer, I know, but I haven’t.  I can’t imagine why....