Bones and Big Business

But for these, war, with its horrific incidents, its late hours, its
midnight railway journeys by trains on which sleeping berths could not
be had for love or money, its food cards and statements of excess
profits, was past. The present held its tragedy so poignant as to
overshadow that breathless terrifying moment when peace had come and
found the firm with the sale of the Fairy Line of cargo steamers
uncompleted, contracts unsigned, and shipping stock which had lived
light-headedly in the airy spaces, falling deflated on the floor of the
house.

The Fairy Line was not a large line. It was, in truth, a small line.
It might have been purchased for two hundred thousand pounds, and
nearly was. To-day it might be acquired for one hundred and fifty
thousand pounds, and yet it wasn't.

"Joe," said the senior Mr. Pole, in a voice that came from his
varnished boots, "we've got to do something with Fairies."

"Curse this War!" said Joe in cold-blooded even tones. "Curse the
Kaiser! A weak-kneed devil who might at least have stuck to it for
another month! Curse him for making America build ships, curse him
for----"

"Joe," said the stout young man on the other side of the table, shaking
his head sadly, "it is no use cursing, Joe. We knew that they were
building ships, but the business looked good to me. If Turkey hadn't
turned up her toes and released all that shipping----"

"Curse Turkey!" said the other, with great calmness. "Curse the Sultan
and Enver and Taalat, curse Bulgaria and Ferdinand----"