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'_Honour_!' sneered Mannering--'what's honour? It means one thing to
me and another to you. Aubrey bangs me over the head with it. But
I'm like the Doctor in the Punch and Judy show--he thinks he's
knocked me flat. He hasn't. I've a new argument every time he comes.
And as for my daughters, they think me a lunatic--a stingy lunatic
besides--because I won't give to their Red Cross shows and bazaars.
I've nothing to give. The income tax gentlemen have taken care of
that.'
'Yet you spend on this kind of thing!' Sir Henry pointed to the
vases. He had grown a little white.
'Of course I can. That's permanent. That's something to mend the
holes that the soldiers and the politicians are making. When the
war's become a nightmare that nobody wants to remember, those little
things'--he pointed to a group of Greek bronzes and terra-cottas on
a table near--'will still be the treasures of the world!'
In the yeasty deep of Sir Henry's honest mind emotions were rising
which he knew now he should not long be able to control.


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