There might be no war--as far as Mannering is concerned.

The Squire is always engaged in mopping it out, like Mrs.Partington.He takes no newspaper, except a rag called the _Lanchester Mail_, which attacks the Government, the Army--as far as it dare--and "secret diplomacy." It comes out about once a week with a black page, because the Censor has been sitting on it.

Desmond Mannering--that's the gunner-son who came on leave a week ago and is just going off to an artillery camp--and I, conspire through the butler--who is a dear, and a patriot--to get the _Times_; but the Squire never sees it.

Desmond reads it in bed in the morning, I read it in bed in the evening, and Pamela Mannering, Mr.Desmond's twin, comes in last thing, in her dressing-gown, and steals it.
'I seem indeed to be living in the heart of a whirlwind, for the Squire is fighting everybody all round, and as he is the least reticent of men, and I have to write his letters, I naturally, even by now, know a good deal about him.

Shortly put, he is in a great mess.