"Do you mean that, Aaron?" he said, looking into Aaron's face with a hard, inflexible look.
Aaron turned aside half sheepishly.
"That's how it looks on the face of it, isn't it?" he said.
"Look here, my friend, it's too late for you to be talking to me about the face of things. If that's how you feel, put your things on and follow Herbertson. Yes—go out of my room. I don't put up with the face of things here."
Aaron looked at him in cold amazement.
"It'll do tomorrow morning, won't it?" he asked rather mocking.
"Yes," said Lilly coldly. "But please go tomorrow morning."
"Oh," I'll go all right," said Aaron. "Everybody's got to agree with you—that's your price."
But Lilly did not answer. Aaron turned into bed, his satirical smile under his nose. Somewhat surprised, however, at this sudden turn of affairs.
As he was just going to sleep, dismissing the matter, Lilly came once more to his bedside, and said, in a hard voice:
"I'm not going to pretend to have friends on the face of things. No, and I don't have friends who don't fundamentally agree with me. A friend means one who is at one with me in matters of life and death. And if you're at one with all the rest, then you're their friend, not mine. So be their friend. And please leave me in the morning. You owe me nothing, you have nothing more to do with me. I have had enough of these friendships where I pay the piper and the mob calls the tune.
"Let me tell you, moreover, your heroic Herbertsons lost us more than ever they won. A brave ant is a damned cowardly individual. Your heroic officers are a sad sight afterwards, when they come home. Bah, your Herbertson! The only justification for war is what we learn from it. And what have they learnt?—Why did so many of them have presentiments, as he called it? Because they could feel inside them, there was nothing to come after. There was no life-courage:
