James.  Well—­that’s the same thing.

L. Anne.  It isn’t—­it’s the opposite.  What is class hatred, James?

James. [Wisely] Ah!  A lot o’ people thought when the war was over there’d be no more o’ that. [He sniggers] Used to amuse me to read in the papers about the wonderful unity that was comin’.  I could ha’ told ’em different.

L. Anne.  Why should people hate?  I like everybody.

James.  You know such a lot o’ people, don’t you?

L. Anne.  Well, Daddy likes everybody, and Mother likes everybody, except the people who don’t like Daddy.  I bar Miss Stokes, of course; but then, who wouldn’t?

James. [With a touch of philosophy] That’s right—­we all bars them that tries to get something out of us.

L. Anne.  Who do you bar, James?

James.  Well—­[Enjoying the luxury of thought]—­Speaking generally, I bar everybody that looks down their noses at me.  Out there in the trenches, there’d come a shell, and orf’d go some orficer’s head, an’ I’d think:  That might ha’ been me—­we’re all equal in the sight o’ the stars.  But when I got home again among the torfs, I says to meself:  Out there, ye know, you filled a hole as well as me; but here you’ve put it on again, with mufti.

L. Anne.  James, are your breeches made of mufti?

James. [Contemplating his legs with a certain contempt] Ah!  Footmen were to ha’ been off; but Lord William was scared we wouldn’t get jobs in the rush.  We’re on his conscience, and it’s on my conscience that I’ve been on his long enough—­so, now I’ve saved a bit, I’m goin’ to take meself orf it.

L. Anne.  Oh!  Are you going?  Where?

James. [Assembling the last bottles] Out o’ Blighty!

L. Anne.  Is a little blighter a little Englishman?

James. [Embarrassed] Well-’e can be.

L. Anne [Mining] James—­we’re quite safe down here, aren’t we, in a revolution?  Only, we wouldn’t have fun.  Which would you rather—­be safe, or have fun?

James. [Grimly] Well, I had my bit o’ fun in the war.

L. Anne.  I like fun that happens when you’re not looking.

James.  Do you?  You’d ha’ been just suited.

L. Anne.  James, is there a future life?  Miss Stokes says so.

James.  It’s a belief, in the middle classes.

L. Anne.  What are the middle classes?

James.  Anything from two ’undred a year to supertax.

L. Anne.  Mother says they’re terrible.  Is Miss Stokes middle class?

James.  Yes.

L. Anne.  Then I expect they are terrible.  She’s awfully virtuous, though, isn’t she?

James.  ‘Tisn’t so much the bein’ virtuous, as the lookin’ it, that’s awful.