"In one or other department of life a man must have success, if he is to know content. Work counts for a lot, but it must be successful work to make up a whole. A big career appeals to all men--the sense of power, the consciousness that one particular bit of the world's work depends upon him, and would suffer from his absence, but that sort of success hasn't come my way. It's the jolliest regiment in the world, the best set of fellows, but it's been our luck to be `out of things,' and we are hopelessly blocked. "Then there's the home department! Middleton (I use him as a type) can never ask himself `what is the good,' while he has his wife and that stunning little lad. He has his depressed moods like the rest, but when they come on, Dorothea makes love to him, and the little chap sits on his knee. At such times any nice feeling young photograph ought to sympathise with a lonely fellow who sits by and--looks on! "What do you suppose made up my last Christmas mail? A bill from the stores, and a picture postcard from an old nurse. This year there'll be a letter from you! I have theories about Christmas letters--especially Christmas letters to fellows abroad. Christmas is a time of special kindliness and love; people who are as a rule most reserved and dignified let themselves go, and show what is in their hearts. I've a fancy just for once to `pittend' as the children say, and write a real Christmassy letter. A fellow in the regiment--Vincent--is just engaged. He met her when he went to S--for his last leave. Prom his descriptions you would imagine she was another Helen of Troy, but I'm told she's quite an ordinary nice girl. The airs he gives himself! A fellow might never have been engaged before. After listening to him steadily for two hours on end the other night, I ventured one on my own account. "`I wonder,' I said tentatively, `if any girl will ever care enough to be willing to be engaged to me?' "He ruminated, and sucked his pipe: `Well,' he said slowly, `you're not such a bad old beast!' "Rather beastly of me all the same to bore you with all this. Forgive me! As Vincent has appointed me his confidant I hear such a lot about the affair that I turned on to it without thinking... The wedding won't come off for another year. When _I'm_ engaged, I'll be married sharp! "Now here's a subject for discussing in your next letter--Love and marriage! It's a big bill, and--be discursive, please! You can't possibly discuss such questions on one sheet. We know, of course, that you are never to many. You are doomed to dry-nurse Martin for life, whether he wants you or no. (Brutal! Sorry, dear!) Things being as they are at the moment, we may premise that I also am doomed to celibacy, but as onlookers see most of the game, there's no reason why we shouldn't wag our heads together over the follies of lovers, and expatiate on how much better we should have managed things ourselves.