A Man Could Stand Up— · Part II · Chapter 2 3 (3/3)

He felt himself solid. He was really in a competition with this fellow. It was deterioration. He, Tietjens, was crumpling up morally. He had accepted responsibility: he had thought of two hundred and fifty pounds with pleasure: now he was competing with a Cockney-Celtic-Prizeman. He was reduced to that level.⁠ ⁠… Well, as like as not he would be dead before the afternoon. And no one would know.

Think of thinking about whether anyone would know or no!⁠ ⁠… But it was Valentine Wannop that wasn’t to know. That he had deteriorated under the strain!⁠ ⁠… That enormously surprised him. He said to his subconscious self:

“What! Is that still there?”

That girl was at least an admirable Latinist. He remarked, with a sort of sardonic glee that, years before, in a dogcart, emerging from mist, somewhere in Sussex⁠—Udimore!⁠—she had made him look silly. Over Catullus! Him, Tietjens!⁠ ⁠… Shortly afterwards old Campion had run into them with his motor that he couldn’t drive but would drive.

Mckechnie, apparently assuaged, said:

“I don’t know if you know, sir, that General Campion is to take over this Army the day after tomorrow.⁠ ⁠… But, of course, you would know.”

Tietjens said:

“No. I didn’t.⁠ ⁠… You fellows in touch with Headquarters get to hear of things long before us.” He added:

“It means that we shall be getting reinforcements.⁠ ⁠… It means the Single Command.”