stance, his uncle."

"His father and mother?"

"They are both dead. There is a large family place in Warwickshire, and
a chateau, just now, I am afraid, in the hands of the Germans. It was
somewhere quite close to the frontier. Lady Granet was an Alsatian. He
was to have gone out with the polo team, you know, to America, but broke
a rib just as they were making the selection. He played cricket for
Middlesex once or twice, too and he was Captain of Oxford the year that
they did so well."

"An Admirable Crichton," Major Thomson murmured.

"In sport, at any rate," his neighbour assented. "He has always been one
of the most popular young men about town, but of course the women will
spoil him now."

"Is it my fancy," he asked, "or was he not reported a prisoner?"

"He was missing twice, once for over a week," Mrs. Cunningham replied.
"There are all sorts of stories as to how he got back to the lines. A
perfect young dare-devil, I should think. I must talk to Mr. Daniell for
a few minutes or he will never publish my reminiscences."

She leaned towards her neighbour on the other side and Major Thomson
was able to resume the role of attentive observer, a role which seemed
somehow his by destiny. He listened without apparent interest to the
conversation between Geraldine Conyers and the young man whom they had
been discussing.

"I think," Geraldine complained, "that you are rather overdoing your
diplomatic reticence, Captain Granet. You haven't told me a single
thing. Why, some of the Tommies I have been to see in the hospitals have
been far more interesting than you."

He smiled.

"I can assure you," he protested, "it isn't my fault. You can't imagine
how fed up one gets with things out there, and the newspapers can tell
you ever so much more than we can. One soldier only sees a little bit of
his own corner of the fight, you know."

"But can't you tell me some of your own personal experiences?" she
persisted. "They are so much more interesting than what one reads in
print."

"I never had any," he assured her. "Fearfully slow time we had for
months."

"Of course, I don't believe a word you say," she declared, laughing.

"You're not taking me for a war correspondent, by any chance, are you?"
he asked.

She shook her head.

"Your language isn't sufficiently picturesque! Tell me, when are you
going back?"

"As soon as I can pass the doctors-in a few days, I hope."

"You hope?" she repeated. "Do you really m