cked from the prison-crop he
had had as a preliminary to "168 hours cells," for "drunk and
disorderly".

"I'll come too," announced the Honourable Bertie.

"Yes," chimed in Trooper Adam Goate, "let's go and gladden the eyes,
if not the hearts of the nurse-maids of Folkestone."

"Bless their nurse-maidenly hearts," murmured Trooper Bear. "One made
honourable proposals of marriage to me, quite recently, in return for
my catching the runaway hat of her young charge.... Come on." And in
due course the four derelicts set forth with a uniformity of step and
action that corresponded with their uniformity of dress.

"Let's take the Lower Road," said Dam, as they reached the western
limit of the front at Folkestone. "I fear we rather contaminate the
pure social air of the Upper Road and the fashionable promenade."

"Where every prospect pleases and only man, in the Queen's uniform, is
vile," observed Trooper Bear.

Dam remembered afterwards that it was he who sought the quiet Lower
Road--and he had good reason to remember it. For suddenly, a
fashionably dressed and beautiful young girl, sitting alone in a
passing private victoria, stood up, called "Stop! Stop!" to the
coachman, and ere the carriage well came to a standstill, sprang out,
rushed up to the double file of soldiers, and flung her arms around
the neck of the outside one of the front rank.

With a cry of "Oh, _Dam_! Oh, _Dammy_!"--a cry that mightily
scandalized a serious-minded policeman who stood monumentally at the
corner--she kissed him again and again!

Troopers Bear, Goate, and Little, halting not in their stride,
glancing not unto the right hand nor unto the left hand, speaking no
word, and giving no sign of surprise, marched on in perfect silence,
until Trooper Bear observed to the world in general "The lady was
_not_ swearing. His _name_ must be Dam--short for Damon or Pythias or
Iphigenia or something which we may proceed to forget.... Poor old
chappie--no wonder he's taking to secret drinking. _I_ should drink,
myself. _Poor_ chap!" and Trooper Goate, heaving a sympathetic sigh,
murmured also "Poor chap!"

But Trooper Little, once the Hon. Bertie Le Grand, thought "Poor
_lady_!"

* * * * *

The heart of Damocles de Warrenne bounded within him, stood still, and
then seemed like to burst.

"Oh, _Lucille_! Oh, darling!" he groaned, as he kissed her fiercely
and then endeavoured to thrust her from him. "Jump into yo