He handed Gilbert's note to Henry who put it in his pocket. He would read it, he told himself, when he was alone. "We're hopping off to France next week," Ninian said. "I suppose," he added, turning again to Henry, "you saw that Jimphy Jayne was killed. Rough luck, wasn't it? I met a fellow who was in his regiment ... home on sick-leave ... and he says Jimphy fought like fifty. Gilbert says Cecily's bearing up wonderfully!" "He's seen her then?" Henry asked. "Yes. She met him in the street ... and as he says, she's bearing up wonderfully. He didn't say a great deal, but I imagine he didn't admire the attitude much. Rum woman, Cecily!" He had grown together more since he had been to South America, and his figure, that was always loose-looking and a little hulking, had been tightened up by his training. "I don't like your moustache, Ninian," his mother said, looking with disfavour at the "tooth-brush" on his upper lip. "Nor do I," he replied, "but you have to wear something on your face ... they don't think you can fight if you don't ... and this sort of thing is the least a chap can do for his king and country. When are you two going to get married?" His conversation jumped about like a squib. "Oh, not yet," Mrs. Graham hurriedly exclaimed. "There's plenty of time...." "I should like to get married at once," said Henry. "No, not yet," Mrs. Graham insisted. "I won't be left alone yet awhile...." There was a learned discourse from Ninian on lengthy engagements which filled the time until the carriage drove up to Boveyhayne House, where it was dropped as suddenly as it was begun. Indoors, Henry read Gilbert's letter. * * * * *