Shelder.  Well, and quite frankly, it’d be no bad thing.

Home.  We don’t want their wretched country—­we’re forced.

More.  We are not forced.

Shelder.  My dear More, what is civilization but the logical, inevitable swallowing up of the lower by the higher types of man?  And what else will it be here?

More.  We shall not agree there, Shelder; and we might argue it all day.  But the point is, not whether you or I are right—­the point is:  What is a man who holds a faith with all his heart to do?  Please tell me.

     [There is a silence.]

Banning. [Simply] I was just thinkin’ of those poor fellows in the Pass.

More.  I can see them, as well as you, Banning.  But, imagine!  Up in our own country—­the Black Valley—­twelve hundred foreign devils dead and dying—­the crows busy over them—­in our own country, our own valley—­ours—­ours—­violated.  Would you care about “the poor fellows” in that Pass?—­Invading, stealing dogs!  Kill them—­kill them!  You would, and I would, too!

     The passion of those words touches and grips as no arguments
     could; and they are silent.

More.  Well!  What’s the difference out there?  I’m not so inhuman as not to want to see this disaster in the Pass wiped out.  But once that’s done, in spite of my affection for you; my ambitions, and they’re not few; [Very low] in spite of my own wife’s feeling, I must be free to raise my voice against this war.

Banning. [Speaking slowly, consulting the others, as it were, with his eyes] Mr. More, there’s no man I respect more than yourself.  I can’t tell what they’ll say down there when we go back; but I, for one, don’t feel it in me to take a hand in pressing you farther against your faith.

Shelder.  We don’t deny that—­that you have a case of sorts.

Wace.  No—­surely.

Shelder.  A—­man should be free, I suppose, to hold his own opinions.

More.  Thank you, Shelder.

Banning.  Well! well!  We must take you as you are; but it’s a rare pity; there’ll be a lot of trouble——­

His eyes light on Honk who is leaning forward with hand raised to his ear, listening.  Very faint, from far in the distance, there is heard a skirling sound.  All become conscious of it, all listen.

Home. [Suddenly] Bagpipes!

     The figure of Olive flies past the window, out on the terrace. 
     Katherine turns, as if to follow her.

Shelder.  Highlanders!