f triumph, twined his arm in that of his
father, and dragged him away.

* * * * *

'DEAR BELOVED DICK--I must just finish this before dinner. Oh,
how I like to think of you at Baghdad, with trees and shade,
and civilized quarters again, after all you've gone through.
Have you got my letters, and those gauze things I sent you for
the hot weather? They tell me here they're right. But how's one
to know? Meanwhile, my dear, here are your mother and sister on
their knees to you, just to be told what you want. Try and want
something!--there's a dear.

'Mother's fairly well--I mean as well as we can expect after
such an illness. My salary here enables me to give her a proper
trained nurse, and to send Jean to school. As to the rest,
don't trouble about me, old man. Sometimes I think it was my
pride more than anything else that was hurt a year ago. Anyway
I find in myself a tremendous appetite for work. In spite of
his oddities, Mr. Mannering is a most stimulating critic and
companion. My work is interesting, and I find myself steeped
once more in the most fascinating, the most wonderful of all
literatures! What remains unsatisfied in me is the passion
which you know I have always had for setting things
straight--organizing, tidying up! Not to speak of other
passions--for work directly connected with the war, for
instance--which have had to be scrapped for a time. I can't
bear the muddle and waste of this place. It gets on my nerves.
Perhaps, if I stay, I may get a chance. I have made a small
beginning--with the food. But I won't bother you with it.

'Above all, I must try and make friends with the twins.
Desmond would be easy, but he's going. Pamela will be more
difficult. However, I shall do my best. As I have already said,
if she would only set up a flirtation--a nice one--that I could
aid and abet!

'What will the married sisters be like? Desmond and Pamela say
very little. All I know is that Alice--that's Mrs.
Gaddesden--is to have a fire in her room all day, though the
weather now is like July. To judge from her photographs, she is
fair, rather pretty, stout and lethargic. Whereas Margaret is
as thin almost as her father, and head-over-ears in war
charities. She lives, says Pamela, on arrowroot and oatc