“No—no trouble—it’s to meet somebody.” Joe lifted his dark-blue eyes in confusion towards his corporal. “Meet somebody!” repeated the corporal, watching his young pal with keen blue eyes. “It’s all right, then; nothing wrong?” “No—nothing wrong. I’m not going,” said Joe. Albert was old and shrewd enough to see that nothing more should be said before the housewife. He also saw that Joe did not want to take him into confidence. So he held his peace, though he was piqued. The two soldiers went into town, smartened up. Albert knew a fair number of the boys round about; there would be plenty of gossip in the market-place, plenty of lounging in groups on the Bath Road, watching the Saturday evening shoppers. Then a modest drink or two, and the movies. They passed an agreeable, casual, nothing-in-particular evening, with which Joe was quite satisfied. He thought of Belbury Station, and of M.S. waiting there. He had not the faintest intention of meeting her. And he had not the faintest intention of telling Albert. And yet, when the two men were in their bedroom, half undressed, Joe suddenly held out the telegram to his corporal, saying: “What d’you think of that?” Albert was just unbuttoning his braces. He desisted, took the telegram form, and turned towards the candle to read it. “_Meet me Belbury Station 6.00 p.m. today. M.S._,” he read, _sotto voce_. His face took on its fun-and-nonsense look. “Who’s M.S.?” he asked, looking shrewdly at Joe. “You know as well as I do,” said Joe, non-committal. “M.S.,” repeated Albert. “Blamed if I know, boy. Is it a woman?” The conversation was carried on in tiny voices, for fear of disturbing the householders. “I don’t know,” said Joe, turning. He looked full at Albert, the two men looked straight into each other’s eyes. There was a lurking grin in each of them. “Well, I’m—_blamed!_” said Albert at last, throwing the telegram down emphatically on the bed. “Wha-at?” said Joe, grinning rather sheepishly, his eyes clouded none the less. Albert sat on the bed and proceeded to undress, nodding his head with mock gravity all the while. Joe watched him foolishly. “What?” he repeated faintly. Albert looked up at him with a knowing look. “If that isn’t coming it quick, boy!” he said. “What the blazes! What ha’ you bin doing?” “Nothing!” said Joe. Albert slowly shook his head as he sat on the side of the bed. “Don’t happen to me when I’ve bin doin’ nothing,” he said. And he proceeded to pull off his stockings. Joe turned away, looking at himself in the mirror as he unbuttoned his tunic. “You didn’t want to keep the appointment?” Albert asked, in a changed voice, from the bedside. Joe did not answer for a moment. Then he said: “I made no appointment.” “I’m not saying you did, boy. Don’t be nasty about it. I mean you didn’t want to answer the—unknown person’s summons—shall I put it that way?” “No,” said Joe. “What was the deterring motive?” asked Albert, who was now lying on his back in bed.