A strange, distracted feeling came over her, a sense of potent unrealities.

“Why would you want to go?”

“I should be doing something, it would be genuine.

It's a sort of toy-life as it is.”

“But what would you be doing if you went to war?”

“I would be making railways or bridges, working like a nigger.”

“But you'd only make them to be pulled down again when the armies had done with them. It seems just as much a game.”

“If you call war a game.”

“What is it?”

“It's about the most serious business there is, fighting.”