that at least they would be glad if they knew, and wish him
luck, was heartening.

James was in lugubrious mood, for the fire which the impudence of
Kruger's ultimatum had lit in him had been cold-watered by the poor
success of the last month, and the exhortations to effort in The Times.
He didn't know where it would end. Soames sought to cheer him by the
continual use of the word Buller. But James couldn't tell! There was
Colley--and he got stuck on that hill, and this Ladysmith was down in a
hollow, and altogether it looked to him a 'pretty kettle of fish'; he
thought they ought to be sending the sailors--they were the chaps, they
did a lot of good in the Crimea. Soames shifted the ground of
consolation. Winifred had heard from Val that there had been a 'rag' and
a bonfire on Guy Fawkes Day at Oxford, and that he had escaped detection
by blacking his face.

"Ah!" James muttered, "he's a clever little chap." But he shook his head
shortly afterwards and remarked that he didn't know what would become of
him, and looking wistfully at his son, murmured on that Soames had never
had a boy. He would have liked a grandson of his own name. And
now--well, there it was!

Soames flinched. He had not expected such a challenge to disclose the
secret in his heart. And Emily, who saw him wince, said:

"Nonsense, James; don't talk like that!"

But James, not looking anyone in the face, muttered on. There were Roger
and Nicholas and Jolyon; they all had grandsons. And Swithin and Timothy
had never married. He had done his best; but he would soon be gone now.
And, as though he had uttered words of profound consolation, he was
silent, eating brains with a fork and a piece of bread, and swallowing
the bread.

Soames excused himself directly after dinner. It was not really cold,
but he put on his fur coat, which served to fortify him against the fits
of nervous shivering to which he had been subject all day.
Subconsciously, he knew that he looked better thus than in an ordinary
black overcoat. Then, feeling the morocco case flat against his heart,
he sallied forth. He was no smoker, but he lit a cigarette, and smoked
it gingerly as he walked along. He moved slowly down the Row towards
Knightsbridge, timing himself to get to Chelsea at nine-fifteen. What
did she do with herself evening after evening in that little hole? How
mysterious women were! One lived alongside and knew nothing of them.
What could she have see