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His dream still held his mind, and as he looked into the darkness and saw the bending branches yielding and rebounding, it seemed to him that he saw the soldiers rushing forward and heard their cries, hoarse with war lust or stifled by the blood that gushed from their mouths as they staggered and fell ... and as he had seen him in his dream, so he saw Jimphy again, running forward and shouting as he ran, until suddenly with a queer wrinkled look of amazement on his face, he stopped, and then, clasping his hands to his head, tumbled in a shapeless heap on the ground ... but now it seemed to him that as Jimphy fell, his face changed: it was no longer Jimphy's face, but his own.
Jimphy thinks it's his duty to show himself to the tenants now and again. It's the only return he can make, poor dear, for all that rent they pay!" Gilbert said "Hm!" and then turned to go to the stalls. "It's Jimphy's birthday to-day," she said, and he turned to her again. "That's why we're here to-night. Together, I mean. He's treating me to a box.
He chose a seat near the railings and sat down and waited. There was a continual flow of carriages and cars, but none of them contained Lady Cecily, and when he had been sitting for almost an hour, he told himself that he was not likely to see her that morning. He rose, as he said this to himself, and turned to walk across the grass towards Rotten Bow, and as he turned, he saw Jimphy.
There were half a dozen women in the drawing-room with Cecily when Henry and Jimphy entered it. In addition to the women, there were a photographer and Boltt. The photographer had finished his work and was preparing to depart, and Boltt was talking in his nice little clipped voice about the working-class. It appeared that the working-class had not realised the seriousness of the situation.
I was rather anxious to be taken with a pile of socks, but I can't knit socks!..." "You can't knit mittens either," said Jimphy. It appeared that Lady Cecily's maid was allowed to undo her mistress's false stitches and finish the mittens properly.... "Well, of course, I'm not really a knitter," Cecily admitted, "but I feel I must do something for the country. I've a good mind to take up nursing.
Once she turned to him and said again, "Are you going to Ireland with him?" but when he answered, "I must, Cecily, I said I would!" she turned away again and did not speak until the taxi drew up before her door. "Perhaps you'd rather I didn't come in?" he said, expecting that she would dismiss him, but she did not do so. "Jimphy may be at home," she said, "and probably he'd like to see you!"
Quinn, won't you?" "Yes, Lady Cecily!..." "And.... Jimphy, dear, do be nice and ask them to come to supper with us after the play. We're going to the Savoy afterwards. I thought it would please Jimphy to go there because he'd be sure not to like the play...." "Yes, you come along, you chaps!" Jimphy said, willingly. "I can't. I'm sorry," Gilbert replied.
There was a queer, hectic gaiety about the place, as if every one present were making a desperate effort to eat, drink and be merry. People greeted Lady Cecily as she passed them and muttered, "'loa, Jimphy!" Henry had never been to a fashionable restaurant before, and the barbaric beauty of the scene fascinated him.
"I suppose," he added, turning again to Henry, "you saw that Jimphy Jayne was killed. Rough luck, wasn't it? I met a fellow who was in his regiment ... home on sick-leave ... and he says Jimphy fought like fifty. Gilbert says Cecily's bearing up wonderfully!" "He's seen her then?" Henry asked. "Yes. She met him in the street ... and as he says, she's bearing up wonderfully.
Lady Cecily was speaking to him and he turned to listen. "I want you to introduce me to Ninian's sister," she said. "Yes," he answered reluctantly, though he could not have said why he was reluctant to introduce her to Mary. "After the next act," she went on, and he nodded his head. Then Jimphy returned, and Henry got up and left her, and hurried back to the box.
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