e soldier on her left hand.

'About beauty?' He looked up listlessly. 'I've no idea. The day's too
hot.'

Cicely eyed him.

'You're tired!' she said peremptorily. 'You've been doing too much. You
ought to go and rest.'

He smiled, and standing back he let them pass him. Turning into a side
path he disappeared towards the hospital.

'Poor old fellow!--he still looks very delicate,' said the General. 'How
is he really getting on?'

'The arm's improving. He's having massage and electricity. Sometimes he
seems perfectly well,' said Cicely. An oddly defiant note had crept into
the last sentence.

'He looks down--out of spirits. Didn't he lose nearly all his friends at
Neuve Chapelle?'

'Yes, some of his best friends.'

'And half the battalion! He always cared enormously about his men. He
and I, you know, fought in South Africa together. Of course then he was
just a young subaltern. He's a splendid chap! I'm afraid he won't get to
the front again. But of course they'll find him something at home. He
ought to marry--get a wife to look after him. By the way, somebody told
me there was some talk about him and the daughter of the rector here. A
nice little girl. Do you know her?'

'Miss Stewart? Yes.'

'What do you think of her?'

'A little nincompoop. Quite harmless!'

The handsome hero smiled--unseen by his companion.

Meanwhile Farrell was walking with Nelly through the stately series of
walled gardens, which his grandfather had planned and carried out,
mainly it seemed for the boredom of the grandson.

'What do we want with all these things now?' he said, waving an
impatient hand, as he and Nelly stood at the top flight of steps looking
down upon the three gardens sloping to the south, with their fragments
of statuary, and old leaden statuettes, ranged along the central walks.
'They're all out of date. They were before the war; and the war has
given them the _coup de grace_. No more big estates--no more huge
country houses! My grandfather built and built, for the sake of
building, and I pay for his folly. After the war!--what sort of a world
shall we tumble into!'

'I don't want these gardens destroyed!' said Nelly, looking up at him.
'No one ought to spoil them. They're far too beautiful!'

She was beginning to speak with more freedom, to be less afraid of him.
The gap between her small provincial experience and modes of thought,
and his, was narrowing. Each was beginning to discover the inner
persona