Toppie was Alan Thorpe, Jack's nearest friend. He had been killed ten days ago. 'I heard it, Jack. Were you with him?' 'Yes. It was in a bayonet charge. He didn't suffer. A bullet went right through him. He just gave a little cry and fell.' Jack's voice had the mildness of a sorrow which has passed beyond the capacity for emotion. 'We found him afterwards. He is buried out there.' 'You must tell Frances about it, Jack. I went to her at once.' Frances was Toppie's sister. 'She is bearing it so bravely.' 'I must write to her. She would be sure to be plucky.' He answered all her questions, sitting closely against her, his arm around her; looking down, while he spoke, and twisting, as had always been his boyish way, a button on her coat. He was at that enchanting moment of young manhood when the child is still apparent in the man. His glance was shy, yet candid; his small, firm lips had a child's gravity. With his splendid shoulders, long legs, and noble little head, he was yet as endearing as he was impressive. His mother's heart ached with love and pride and fear as she gazed at him. And a question came, near the sharp one, yet hoping to evade it:-- 'Jack, dearest, how long will you be with me? How long is the leave?' He raised his eyes then and looked at her; a curious look. Something in it blurred her mind with a sense of some other sort of fear. 'Only till to-night,' he said. It seemed confusion rather than pain that she felt. 'Only till to-night, Jack? But Richard Crawley has been back for three days already. I thought they gave you longer?' 'I know, mummy.' His eyes were dropped again and his hand at the button--did it tremble?--twisted and untwisted. 'I've been back for three days already.--I've been in London.' 'In London?' Her breath failed her. The sense of alien fear became a fog, horrible, suffocating. 'But--Jack--why?' 'I didn't wire, mummy, because I knew I'd have to be there for most of my time. I felt that I couldn't wire and tell you. I felt that I had to see you when I told you. Mother--I'm married.--I came back to get married.--I was married this morning.--O mother, can you ever forgive me?' His shaking hands held her and his eyes could not meet hers. She felt the blood rush, as if her heart had been divided with a sword, to her throat, to her eyes, choking her, burning her; and as if from far away she heard her own voice saying, after a little time had passed, 'There's nothing I couldn't forgive you, Jack. Tell me. Don't be afraid of hurting me.'