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Tietjens swore with the extreme vehemence of a man who has been made, but who much dislikes being seen, to start.

Macmaster--in evening dress he looked extremely miniature!--said:

'I'm sorry, old man, I know how much you dislike being interrupted. But the General is in a terrible temper.'

Tietjens rose stiffly, lurched over to an eighteenth-century rosewood folding washstand, took from its top a glass of flat whisky and soda, and gulped down a large quantity. He looked about uncertainly, perceived a notebook on a 'Chippendale' bureau, made a short calculation in pencil and looked at his friend momentarily.

Macmaster said again:

'I'm sorry, old man. I must have interrupted one of your immense calculations.'

Tietjens said:

'You haven't. I was only thinking. I'm just as glad you've come. What did you say?'

Macmaster repeated:

'I said, the General is in a terrible temper. It's just as well you didn't come up to dinner.'

Tietjens said:

'He isn't...He isn't in a temper. He's as pleased as punch at not having to have these women up before him.' Macmaster said: