y and made a
bit of a fuss? Well, I thought I'd just see again so as to get out of
paying that higher premium."

"Oh, that. What nonsense it was. What did he say?"

"Said I had a murmur or some rot. I say, if you're going back now, don't
wait dinner for me to-night. I'll get something here. The _Evening
Times_ is bringing out a special edition at nine o'clock. I'd like to
wait for it."

She assented, "Yes, bring home the paper."

He went into the office. The afternoon post had brought letters to his
desk. He turned them over without interest, then caught up one,--from
Nona.

Marko, this frightful war! I have thanked God on my knees for you
that last week you prevented me. If I had done it with this! Tony
has rejoined the Guards, he was in the Reserve of Officers. And you
see that whatever has been, and is, dear, he's my man to stand by
in this. Marko, it would have been too awful if I couldn't, and I
thank God for you, again and again and again. Nona.

Twyning appeared. "Hullo, old man, heard the latest? I say, you look as
if you're ready to take on the whole world."

CHAPTER V

I

The enormous and imponderable world awfully unbalanced. Upside down.
Extraordinarily unreal. Furiously real.

Life, which had been a thing of the clock and of the calendar, became a
thing of events in which there was no time,--only events.

Things began one day very shortly after the declaration of war when,
passing the barracks on his way home, Sabre was accosted and taken into
the Mess by Cottar, a subaltern of the Pinks.

"You must come along in and have a cup of tea," young Cottar urged.
"We've got a hell of a jamborino on. At least we shall have to-night.
We're just working up for it. I can't tell you why. You can guess."

Sabre felt a sudden catch at his emotions. "Is the regiment going?"

They were at the door of the anteroom. Cottar swung it open. The room
was full of men and tobacco smoke and noise. A very tall youth, one
Sikes, was standing on the table, a glass in his hand. "Hullo, Sabre!
Messman, one of those very stiff whiskies for Mr. Sabre--go on, Sabre,
you must. Because--" He had not Cottar's reticence. He burst into song,
waving his glass--"Because--

"We shan't be here in the morning--"

They all took it up, bawling uproariously:

We shan't be here in the morning,
We shan't be here in the morning,
We shan't be here in the mor-or-ning,
Before the