and looked at her.

"Why?"

"You must have been so many horrible sights--so many dead people, and
yet--"

"Well?" he persisted.

"There was something in your face when the man staggered back, a kind of
horror almost. I am sure you felt it quite as much as any of us."

He was silent for a moment.

"In a battlefield," he observed slowly, "one naturally becomes a little
callous, but here it is different. The fellow did look ghastly ill,
didn't he? I wonder what was really the matter with him."

"We shall know when Major Thomson returns," she said.

Granet seemed scarcely to hear her words. A curious fit of abstraction
had seized him. His head was turned towards the corridor, he seemed to
be waiting.

"Queer sort of stick, Thomson," he remarked presently. "Is he a great
friend of yours, Miss Conyers?"

She hesitated for a moment.

"I have known him for some time."

Something in her tone seemed to disturb him. He leaned towards her
quickly. His face had lost its good-humoured indifference. He was
evidently very much in earnest.

"Please don't think me impertinent," he begged, "but--is he a very great
friend?"

She did not answer. She was looking over his shoulder towards where
Major Thomson, who had just returned, was answering a little stream of
questions.

"The man is in a shockingly weak state," he announced. "He is a Belgian,
has been wounded and evidently subjected to great privations. His heart
is very much weakened. He had a bad fainting fit, but with a long rest
he may recover."

The little party broke up once more into groups. Granet, who had drawn
for a moment apart and seemed to be adjusting the knots of his sling,
turned to Thomson.

"Has he recovered consciousness yet?" he asked.

"Barely," was the terse reply.

"There was no special cause for his going off like that, I suppose?"

Surgeon-Major Thomson's silence was scarcely a hesitation. He was
standing perfectly still, his eyes fixed upon the young soldier.

"At present," he said, "I am not quite clear about that. If you are
ready, Geraldine?"

She nodded and they made their farewells to Lady Anselman. Granet looked
after them with a slight frown. He drew his aunt on one side for a
moment.

"Why is Miss Conyers here without a chaperon?" he asked. "And why did
she go away with Thomson?"

Lady Anselman laughed.

"Didn't she tell you?"

"Tell me what?" he insisted eagerly.

Lady Anselman looked at her nephew curiously.

"E