‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,’ said Poppy, doubtfully.
‘Besides, think what a wonderfully good turn I did him with that old Local Beauty. Why, the girl was gunning for me, you know, as hard as she could, but after half an hour’s conversation with me she turned right about and started gunning for Noel instead, and from that day to this she has never looked back once. No, you can’t pretend that I’m disloyal.’
‘I shouldn’t call it a sign of loyalty to throw anyone into the arms of that awful, affected, pretentious Mrs Lace.’
‘Bella, Horrida Bella? I think she’s quite a cup of tea. But the point is, you don’t know the old boy like I do. The only love that counts for a row of pins from his point of view is the hopeless sort. As soon as a girl begins to be able to sit in the same room with him he sheers off. If the old L.B., or Local Beauty, had still been after me, he would still have been mad about her, as it is, he is cooling down wonderfully. Darling Miss Smith, now you might as well admit that I am a loyal guy.’
‘All right, my poppet, don’t make such a to-do. I expect even you have got a few good qualities, everybody has. I was only suggesting that, judged by the usual standards, you are a bit of a burglar.’
‘Oh! well,’ said Jasper gloomily, ‘if that’s all – a chap has got to live somehow you know, it’s one long struggle to survive in one’s environment. But look here, why don’t you marry me? I’ll promise to give up being a burglar and work for my living some other way – how about that?’
‘We’ll see,’ said Poppy. ‘I don’t really approve of marriage, you know. I think settlements are the thing to go for, these days.’
‘Why did you marry Anthony St Julien?’
‘How stupid you are. A girl must marry once, you can’t go on being called Miss – Miss all your life, it sounds too idiotic. All the same, marriage is a great bore – chap’s waistcoats lying about in one’s bedroom, and so on. It gets one down in time. Hullo! Look! here come Eugenia and Vivian Jackson. Hail!’ she cried.
‘Hail, Union Jackshirts!’ Eugenia trotted up to them and dismounted, sending Vivian Jackson about his business with a tremendous whack on the hind-quarters, ‘have you been to see T.P.O.F.? She was in an awful stew when I left.’
‘We have,’ said Poppy, ‘and she’s calmed down again nicely.’
‘Yes,’ said Eugenia anxiously, ‘but what did you arrange?’
‘It’s all right. There’s to be no tee-d up garden party, but the pageant is to take place just the same, with a small charge for admission.’
‘Oh! good,’ said Eugenia, greatly relieved. ‘That makes it all the easier for us to have our Grand S.U. rally. I must begin to see about the posters and leaflets – I thought we might distribute some Social Unionist hymns and propaganda while we are about it.’
‘T.P.O.F. seems quite enthusiastic about Union Jackshirtism.’
‘Yes, she thinks it’s the Women’s Institute and she’s all for it. Keeps on saying how pleased she is that I do something for the village at last. Nanny’s the one who hates it so much. I’m always afraid she’s going to tell on me, the old Pacifist.’
‘I shouldn’t think she’d do that.’
‘She’d better not, unless she wants to be beaten up by the Comrades.’
There was a pause in the conversation. Eugenia began to hum, as she often did, the tune of ‘Deutschland Deutschland Uber Alles!’ to which she sang the substituted words, ‘Union Jackshirts Up and At ’Em, Push their faces in the mud!’
Presently Jasper said: ‘Poppy and I were just talking about getting married.’
‘To whom?’
‘To each other, dear.’
Eugenia looked at them severely. ‘If cousin Poppy St Julien had the true principles of Social Unionism at heart she would return to her husband and present him with several healthy male children.’
‘Darling Eugenia,’ cried Poppy, ‘he wouldn’t like that a bit. Why, when I think of all the trouble I’ve taken –’
‘Is your husband an Aryan?’
‘I really don’t quite know what an Aryan is.’
‘Well, it’s quite easy. A non-Aryan is the missing link between man and beast. That can be proved by the fact that no animals, except the Baltic goose, have blue eyes.’
‘How about Siamese cats?’ said Jasper.
‘That’s true. But Siamese cats possess, to a notable degree, the Nordic virtue of faithfulness.’
‘Indeed they don’t,’ said Poppy. ‘We had one last summer and he brought back a different wife every night. Even Anthony was quite shocked.’
Eugenia was in no way put out. ‘I know, they may not be faithful to non-Aryan cats,’ she said, ‘why should they be? But they love their Nordic owners, and even go for long walks with them.’
‘So your definition of an Aryan is somebody who will go for long walks with other Aryans? Come on now, Miss Smith, does Anthony St Julien go for long walks with you or is he the missing link?’
‘Union Jackshirt Aspect,’ said Eugenia sharply, ‘no levity, please.’ She turned to Poppy and said, ‘If your husband is an Aryan you should be able to persuade him that it is right to live together and breed; if he is a filthy non-Aryan it may be your duty to leave him and marry Jackshirt Aspect. I am not sure about this, we want no immorality in the Movement …’
‘It’s quite all right,’ said Jasper, ‘you can take it
