ed. And I remember ... let us leave it at that. I want to forget, to
walk in the Sunshine, in the crowded Strand, away from the darknesses
and silences. As I say, there the story ends.... I have told you all of
it."

* * * * *

But Captain Crabbe did not tell it all. The best part was "strictly
private." He married Margot at half-past ten on the following Saturday
morning but one, at St. George's, Hart Street, Bloomsbury.

II

THE DE GAMELYN TRADITIONS

He was just an Irish soldier's son; a real boy in real life, and his
name was Tim, and that was the only name he had besides his surname
which was Gamelyn. And somehow he was perfectly happy. But one day he
found an old book and read about a boy whose name was Victor; and the
more he read about Victor the more ardent was his wish to be like
Victor, and he wished that he had been called Victor--for Victor was a
genius and a gentleman, and all things which Victor put his hands to
were crowned with success. But Tim's name _was_ Tim Gamelyn, which was
unfortunate; and when he went to an English school at Margate they
called him, because his hair was red, "Carrots" which was heartbreaking.

In the book nobody had ever jeered at Victor or called him nicknames;
they would have been dealt with very severely, besides they would not
have dared; he was far too heroic. So Tim became very furious when the
other fellows called him "Carrots." But the more he showed his dislike
for this name the more the boys made use of it, also when they had time
to spare--they warmed their hands in the imaginary heat radiated by his
ruddy hair. It was impossible to uphold any dignity under the
circumstances, and he began to wonder what Victor would have done in a
like predicament. But then Victor's hair was rich and brown and curly,
and no one could have said a word against it; Tim's was red and of the
kind that fate keeps in stock of the humble and low, and it made a
little lump come up in his throat when he realized it. Then the football
season on, Victor, Tim well remembered, had gone in for every kind of
athletic sport. When he had first arrived at a strange boarding school
he had refused, with a heedless laugh, to say whether he could play or
not. Victor did not even deign to go near the football field for a
month. But ten minutes before the Match of the year commenced he
suddenly made up his mind to play. During the first half of the game
Victor had