Take
my husband, for instance. Jack was a clever man, though I say so who
shouldn't. Government has eaten him up. All his ideas and powers of
conversation--he really used to be a good talker, even to his wife, in the old
days--are taken from him by this--this kitchen-sink of a Government. That's
the case with every man up here who is at work. I don't suppose a Russian
convict under the knout is able to amuse the rest of his gang; and all our
men-folk here are gilded convicts."
"But there are scores--"
"I know what you're going to say. Scores of idle men up on leave. I admit it,
but they are all of two objectionable sets, The Civilian who'd be delightful
if he had the military man's knowledge of the world and style, and the
military man who'd be adorable if lie had the Civilian's culture."
"Detestable word! Have Civilians Culchaw? I never studied the breed deeply."
"Don't make fun of Jack's service. Yes. They're like the teapots in the Lakka
Bazar--good material but not polished. They can't help themselves, poor dears.
A Civilian only begins to be tolerable after he has knocked about the world
for fifteen years."
"And a military man?"
"When he has had the same amount of service. The young of both species are
horrible.
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