of those who passed last time--and he said he was being
drafted at once into a regiment! You mustn't forget how long I was in
the O.T.C. It seems they're sending all those who were in the O.T.C.
straight into regiments."

"Then by next week you'll be second lieutenant in the Wessex Light
Infantry!" she exclaimed. She knew that it was in that famous regiment
that General Blake had won his early spurs, and that it had been
settled, in the days when no one had doubted Jervis Blake's ability to
pass the Army Exam., that he would join his father's old regiment, now
commanded by one of that father's very few intimates.

"Yes, I suppose I shall," he said, flushing. "Oh, Rose, I can't believe
in my luck. It's so much--much too good to be true!"

They had come to the corner, to the parting of their ways. To the left,
through the grey stone gateway, was the street leading into the town; on
the right, within a few moments' walk, the Cathedral.

Rose suddenly felt very much moved, carried out of her reserved self. A
lump rose to her throat. She knew that this was their real parting, and
that she was not likely to see him again, save in the presence of her
mother for a few minutes.

"I wonder," said Jervis Blake hoarsely, "I wonder, Rose, if you would do
me a great kindness? Would you go on into the Cathedral with me, just
for three or four minutes? I should like to go there for the last time
with you."

"Yes," she said; "of course I will." Rose had inherited something of her
mother's generosity of nature. If she gave at all, she gave freely and
gladly. "I do hope the door will be open," she said, trying to regain
her usual staid composure. She was surprised and disturbed by the pain
which seemed to be rising, brimming over, in her heart.

They walked on in silence. Jervis Blake was looking straight before him,
his face set and grim. He was telling himself that a fellow would be a
cur to take advantage of such a moment to say anything, and that
especially was that the case with one who might so soon be exposed to
something much worse than death--such as the being blinded, the being
maimed, for life. War was a very real thing to Jervis, more real
certainly than to any other one of the young men who had been his
comrades at Robey's during the last two years.

But the most insidious of all tempters, Nature herself, whispered in his
ear, "Why not simply tell her that you love her? No woman minds being
told that she is loved! It