He made his errand. The terrified bird rioted in its cage all the way, and he hoped it would not die of fright before Demon carried it up to the spare room. When he returned, he entered through the rear door of his house; there were sentries round the front. Double doors into the hall were open and the nasal voice of General Duncan was saying, “No, he’s sending Anderson—he’s got five brigades. Just as glad. Didn’t we get pounded enough yesterday to suit you?” There were officers in the hall. Someone chattered, Archer wasn’t wounded when they took him—I have it from a Yankee prisoner—Archer was completely cut off by those willows … The staff moved aside to let Bale pass, and he went up the stairs. Looked down over the balustrade, and through the library door he saw General Duncan standing beside Pentland Bale’s desk, with the miniatures of Pentland Bale’s mother and father just beyond … a bitter pine-cone of a man with a feel of whips and livery stables about him. He was reading a note written on crumpled blue paper. Dan went into his bedroom and shut the door.

He lay down upon the unmade bed and tried to close his nose to the increasing stench of horse-meat. They could burn it, he reiterated, just as I considered doing—few gallons of coal oil and a lot of dry wood. Or bury it. Never drive out west with her. I know it. I know it as surely as I am lying here. The impact has flung us into a rubbish heap where we lie quivering.

He tried to make an occupation out of the sounds in the yard, voices coming up through floor and windows. It might be possible to identify voices even though you’d met the men only once or twice; if you were exceedingly skillful it could be done. “Well, see the quartermaster, Colonel Cornwall! See the quartermaster. I am not your quartermaster. I am—” He looked like a dried pine-cone. Oh English, someone called. I suppose that British officer drank himself out of the Coldstream Guards, and that is why he is here. I have heard that such men are demons in battle … Demon. I wonder if he saw us when he went through the hall with his Bible—saw us beginning our kiss? What matter if he did?

Rolled over, and buried his face in the stuffy bed-clothes, and began to curse Demon. Servile, cringing, gabbling humbug—he is tainted as surely as Tyler is tainted. If she stays with them she will be spoiled in the same way; it is the Fanning taint, I know there is such a thing, and how I loath it.