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 pride was strongest. They had grown up to the belief that a soldier is generally killed or wounded and that he is glad to take the risk, or, if not, ought to be, as part of the most exciting and enjoyable game of war. Women had filled many of the jobs which formerly were the exclusive possession of men, and the men coming back looked at these legions of women clerks, tram-conductors, ticket-collectors, munition-workers, plough-girls, and motor-drivers with the brooding thought that they, the men, had been ousted from their places. A new class had arisen out of the whirlpool of social upheaval. The Profiteers, in a large way of business, had prospered exceedingly out of the supply and demand of massacre. The Profiteer's wife clothed herself in furs and jewels. The Profiteer's daughters were dancing by night and sleeping by day. The farmers and the shop-keepers had made a good thing out of war. They liked war, so long as they were untouched by air-raids or not afflicted by boys who came back blind or crippled. They had always been Optimists. They were Optimists now, and claimed a share in the merit of the Victory that had been won by the glorious watchword of "business as usual." They hoped the terms of peace would be merciless upon the enemy, and they demanded the Kaiser's head as a pleasant sacrifice, adding spice to the great banquet of Victory celebrations.

Outwardly England was gay and prosperous and light-spirited. It was only by getting away from the seething crowds in the streets, from the dancing crowds and the theatre crowds, and the shopping crowds, that men came face to face with private and hidden tragedy. In small houses, or big, there were women who had lost their men and were listless and joyless, the mothers of only sons who did not come back with the demobilised tide, and the sweethearts of boys who would never fulfil the