John Galsworthy

“ It was less dangerous to prefer, platonically at least, the society of barmaids and married women. So the years passed by him, embalmed in her affection, in sport, and cigarettes; till, at the age of twenty-eight, he fell in love with the wife of a naval commander with whom he yachted and played billiards. She was a gray-eyed young woman, with great good humor, and an admirable figure. ”

“ He could no longer afford to hunt unless a friend mounted him. Still, he got along—there were few evenings when he did not make his five to ten shillings over the green baize—large and small. And five years passed as a game that is played.
He was fifty-four when the Great War broke out. It roused him as nothing had ever roused him yet. Those German “jossers” wanted a good hiding. Sitting in his long chair with a cigarette between the yellow fingers of one hand and his cocker spaniel’s ear between the yellow fingers of the other, he nerved himself for an effort. ”

“ His nodding thoughts were free from the tortures of effort. The cards were hopelessly against him, and he just wanted to be let alone. Nothing so definite as suicide was in his drowsing mind. Suicide meant effort, and he had always avoided effort, except in the playing of games. ”

“ In December he noticed a great change in Mollie; she grew excitable. And then one day, clinging to him, she said it couldn’t go on, they would have to “kick over;” she couldn’t bear that old man any more. Gene must take her away—he must! Divorce and all, it wouldn’t take a year until they could be married. Extremely copper-colored, he smoothed her. “Easy on!” he muttered. “You're off color, old girl. What’s’ the matter with the old sportsman? He seems a harmless sort of old Johnny.” ”

“ The news was three weeks old.
“Gene,” she said, “isn’t it awful, and isn’t it—isn’t it wonderful, in a way! After all, we—we haven't committed—and we can—we can be—” She stopped; his face was copper-colored. He stammered out: “Poor Bink! Poor old chap!”
She went away dreadfully upset. Next day he had violent dyspepsia.
During the following weeks of seclusion under his aunt’s care, he had time to see the matter in all its bearings; it had become evident to him that he was on the edge of being married. It would need inertia almost amounting to effort to avoid that fate. Had he enough? ”

“ He lighted a cigarette. His teeth at that moment looked very filed.
The effort before him took shape in the watches of the second night. Enlist! After all, what would it be? Only, as it were, a long day’s hunting, the exertion of it nothing compared with that of running away with Mollie to an ultimate marriage. He had four days’ severe dyspepsia—then took an early train to Exeter, and joined the Imperial Yeomanry. They wanted fellows of his stamp who could ride and shoot. His aunt was horrified; it seemed to her the end of the world. He rallied her. It would be a “picnic.” ”

“ An “old josser” was looking down at him from the parade; he took up a pebble, and with a shaking hand threw it at a log of driftwood ten yards or so away. Nobody would notice a chap throwing pebbles. He threw them at long intervals. ”