CHAPTER XXXII.
Many other thoughts filled his mind on his railroad journey to Scotland.
He questioned himself as to how deeply he still felt the importance of there coming into the racked world a Head of the House of Coombe, how strongly he was still inspired by the centuries old instinct that a House of Coombe must continue to exist as part of the bulwarks of England.

The ancient instinct still had its power, but he was curiously awakening to a slackening of the bonds which caused a man to specialise.
It was a reluctant awakening--he himself had no part in the slackening.
The upheaval of the whole world had done it and of the world England herself was a huge part--small, huge, obstinate, fighting England.
Bereft of her old stately beauties, her picturesque splendours of habit and custom, he could not see a vision of her, and owned himself desolate and homesick.

He was tired.

So many men and women were tired--worn out with thinking, fearing, holding their heads up while their hearts were lead.

When all was said and done, when all was over, what would the new England want--what would she need?
And England was only a part.