Paul optimistically, and passed on into
his dufter.

Lance lit a cigar, flung himself into a verandah chair and picked up the
'Civil and Military.' He had just scanned the war telegrams when Roy
came up at a round trot.

Lance sat forward and discarded the paper. An exchange of glances
sufficed. Roy's determination to 'bluff the board' had failed.

He looked sallow in spite of sunburn; tired and disheartened; no lurking
smile in his eyes. He fondled the velvet nose of his beloved Suraj--a
graceful creature, half Arab, half Waler; and absently acknowledged the
frantic jubilations of his Irish terrier puppy, christened by Lance the
Holy Terror--Terry for short. Then he mounted the steps, subsided into
the other chair and dropped his cap and whip on the ground.

"Damn the doctors," said Lance, questions being superfluous.

That so characteristic form of sympathy moved Roy to a rueful smile.
"Obstinate devils. I bluffed 'em all I knew. Overdid it, perhaps. Anyway
they weren't impressed. They've dispensed with my valuable services.
Anaemia, mild neurasthenia, cardiac symptoms--and a few other
pusillanimous ailments. Wonder they didn't throw in housemaid's knee!
Oh, confound 'em all!" He converted a sigh into a prolonged yawn.
"Let's make merry over a peg, Lance. Doctors are exhausting to argue
with. And Cuthers always said I couldn't argue for nuts! Now then--how
about pegs?"

"A bit demoralising--at midday," Lance murmured without conviction.

"Well, I _am_ demoralised; dead--damned--done for. I'm about to be
honoured with a blooming medical certificate to that effect. As a
soldier, I'm extinct--from this time forth for evermore. You see before
you the wraith of a Might-Have-Been. After _that_ gold-medal exhibition
of inanity, kindly produce said pegs!"

Lance Desmond listened with a grave smile, and a sharp contraction of
heart, to the absurdities of this first-best friend, who for three years
had shared with him the high and horrible and ludicrous vicissitudes of
war. He knew only too well that trick of talking at random to drown some
inner stress. With every word of nonsense he uttered, Roy was implicitly
confessing how acutely he felt the blow; and to parade his own bitter
disappointment seemed an egotistical superfluity. So he merely remarked
with due gravity: "I admit you've made out an overwhelming case for
'said pegs'!" And he shouted his orders accordingly.

They filled their tumblers in silence, avoiding