“What--nothing?” The buxom siren’s ruddy face was creased in an alluring smile. Aloft now she held the tankard, tilting her still golden head. “Not another draught of October before you go forth?” she coaxed him. As he looked at her now, he smiled. And it has been left on record by one who knew him well that his smile was irresistible, a smile that could always win him the man or woman upon whom he bestowed it. It had a trick of breaking suddenly upon a face that in repose was wistful, like sunshine breaking suddenly from a grey sky. “I vow you spoil me,” said he. She beamed upon him. “Isn’t that the duty of a proper hostess?” She set the tankard on the laden tray and bore it out with her. When she brought it back replenished, and placed it on a coffin-stool beside him, he had changed his attitude, but not his mood of thoughtfulness. He roused himself to thank her. She hovered near until he had taken a pull of the brown October. “Do you go forth this morning?” “Aye,” he answered, but wearily, as if reduced to hopelessness. “They told me I should find his grace returned to-day. But they have told me the same so often already, that....” He sighed, and broke off, leaving his doubts implied. “I sometimes wonder if they but make game of me.” “Make game of you!” Horror stressed her voice. “When the Duke is your friend!” “Ah! But that was long ago. And men change ... amazingly sometimes.” Then he cast off the oppression of his pessimism. “But if there’s to be war, surely there will be commands in which to employ a practised soldier--especially one who has experience of the enemy, experience gained in the enemy’s own service.” It was as if he uttered aloud his thoughts. She frowned at this. Little by little in the past month she had drawn from him some essential part of his story, and although he had been far from full in his confidences, yet she had gleaned enough to persuade herself that a reason existed why he should never reach this duke upon whom he depended for military employment. And in that she had taken comfort; for, as you surmise, it was no part of her intention that he should go forth to the wars again, and so be lost to her. “I marvel now,” said she, “that you will be vexing yourself with such matters.” He looked at her. “A man must live,” he explained. “But that’s no reason why he should go to the wars and likely die. Hasn’t there been enough o’ that in your life already? At your age a man’s mind should be on other things.” “At my age?” He laughed a little. “I am but thirty-five.” She betrayed her surprise. “You look more.” “Perhaps I have lived more. I have been very busy.” “Trying to get yourself killed. Don’t it occur to you that the time has come to be thinking o’ something else?” He gave her a mildly puzzled glance, frowning a little. “You mean?” “That it’s time ye thought o’ settling, taking a wife and making a home and a family.”