may have noticed, there is a
little less of me than there used to be. I hope you think it's an
improvement."

She felt as if he had flung back her conventional sympathy in her
face, and she stiffened instinctively. "I am sorry to see it," she
returned icily.

Nick laughed enigmatically. "I thought you would be. Well, Olga, my
child, what do you mean by growing up like this in my absence? You
used to be just the right size for a kid, and now you are taller than
I am."

"I'm not, Nick," the child declared with warmth. "And I never will be,
there!"

She slid her arm again round his neck. Her eyes were full of tears.

Nick turned swiftly and bestowed a kiss upon the face which, though
the face of a child, was so remarkably like his own.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" he said.

"There's no need," said Olga, hugging him closer. "They all know
Captain Ratcliffe of Wara. Why haven't you got the V.C., Nick, like
Captain Grange?"

"Didn't qualify for it," returned Nick. "You see, I only distinguished
myself by running away. Hullo! It's raining. Just run and tell the
chauffeur to drive round to the house. You can go with him. And take
your friends too. It'll carry you all. I'm going the garden way with
Muriel."

Muriel realised the impossibility of frustrating this plan, though the
last thing in the world that she desired was to be alone with him.
But the distance to the house was not great. As the children scampered
away to the waiting motor-car she moved briskly to leave the field.

Nick walked beside her with his free, elastic swagger. In a few
moments he reached out and took her hockey-stick from her.

"Jove!" he said. "It did me good to see you shoot that goal."

"I had no idea you were watching," she returned stiffly.

He grinned. "No, I saw that. Fun, wasn't it? Like to know what I said
to myself?"

She made no answer, and his grin became a laugh. "I'm sure you would,
so I'll tell you. I said, 'Prayer Number One is granted,' and I ticked
it off the list, and duly acknowledged the same."

Muriel was plainly mystified. He was in the mood that most baffled
her. "I don't know what you mean," she said at last.

Nick swung the hockey-stick idly. His yellow face, for all its
wrinkles, looked peculiarly complacent.

"Let me explain," he said coolly; "I wanted to see you young again,
and--my want has been satisfied, that's all."

Muriel looked sharply away from him, the vivid colour rush