Page:Herbert Jenkins - The Rain Girl.djvu/19

 He could not explain that "out there" everything had taken on a new value and new standards had been set up, that in a flash the clock had been put back centuries; food and life alone had mattered. A few yards away Death had lain in wait to flick them out with a disdainful finger, and every man, some consciously, others instinctively, was asking himself the great riddle—Why?

Instead of endeavouring to explain all this, Beresford had contented himself by saying that the War had made a difference, had somehow changed him, made him restless. He had been purposely vague, remembering Lady Drewitt's habit of clutching at a phrase as a peg for her scorn and ridicule. He had been conscious of making out a very poor case for himself, and mentally he cursed his cousin, Lord Drewitt, for his silence. He at least must have understood, he had been through it all.

Lady Drewitt listened with obvious impatience. At last she had broken out with: "Richard, you're a fool." The words had been rapped out with conviction rather than acrimony.

"Logically I suppose I am, Aunt Caroline," he had replied, as he signalled to Drewitt to circulate the port in his direction.

"What are you going to live on?" Lady Drewitt demanded. "You've no money of your own."

"Perhaps he proposes to borrow from you, Aunt," Lord Drewitt had said, as he lighted another cigarette.

Lady Drewitt ignored the remark.