ld have had the courage to resist his gratitude.

"Why should I sacrifice myself?" he cried. "My life is as valuable as
theirs. Why should it be always I from whom sacrifice is demanded?"

But it was no use rebelling. Mary's claims were too strong, and if he
lived he must satisfy them. Yet some respite he could not do without;
away from Primpton he might regain his calm. James hated London, but
even that would be better than the horrible oppression, the constraint
he was forced to put upon himself.

He walked up and down the garden for a few minutes to calm down, and
went in to his mother. He spoke as naturally as he could.

"Father tells me that Mary's wedding-dress is nearly ready."

"Yes; it's a little early. But it's well to be on the safe side."

"It's just occurred to me that I can hardly be married in rags. I think
I had better go up to town for a few days to get some things."

"Must you do that?"

"I think so. And there's a lot I want to do."

"Oh, well, I daresay Mary won't mind, if you don't stay too long. But
you must take care not to tire yourself."

XX

On his second visit to London, James was more fortunate, for immediately
he got inside his club he found an old friend, a man named Barker, late
adjutant of his regiment. Barker had a great deal to tell James of
mutual acquaintance, and the pair dined together, going afterwards to a
music-hall. James felt in better spirits than for some time past, and
his good humour carried him well into the following day. In the
afternoon, while he was reading a paper, Barker came up to him.

"I say, old chap," he said, "I quite forgot to tell you yesterday. You
remember Mrs. Wallace, don't you--Pritchard, of that ilk? She's in town,
and in a passion with you. She says she's written to you twice, and
you've taken no notice."

"Really? I thought nobody was in town now."

"She is; I forget why. She told me a long story, but I didn't listen, as
I knew it would be mostly fibs. She's probably up to some mischief.
Let's go round to her place and have tea, shall we?"

"I hardly think I can," replied James, reddening. "I've got an
engagement at four."

"Rot--come on! She's just as stunning as ever. By Gad, you should have
seen her in her weeds!"

"In her weeds! What the devil do you mean?"

"Didn't you know? P. W. was bowled over at the beginning of the
war--after Colenso, I think."

"By God!--I didn't know. I never saw!"

"Oh, well, I didn't know