He laughs grimly, in a low and rumbling fashion, on hearing that Communism is losing its influence in the north of England.

"I can quite imagine that; the last thing an Englishman will part with is his property." Laughter, if it can be called laughter, is rare on his lips, and is reserved in general for opinions which are in antagonism to his own.

He laughs in this way at the makeshift compromises of statesmen and theologians and economists saying that what those men hate more than anything else is a fixed principle.

He quotes with a sardonic pleasure the capital saying that a certain statesman's idea of a settled policy based on fixed moral principles is a policy which will last from breakfast-time to luncheon--he repeats the last words "from breakfast-time to luncheon," with a deep relish, an indrawing of the breath, a flash of light in the glassy eyes.
He remains impenitent concerning his first instinct as to England's duty at the violation of Belgium's neutrality.

We were justified in fighting; we could do no other; it was a stern duty laid upon us by the Providence which overrules the foolishness of man.