"Even in Dublin, a man with something over his pay can make himself comfortable, in seven months," mused the colonel. Being a bachelor himself, he liked the way things were arranged. For instance, the small book-shelf above the bed, with its freight of well-thumbed volumes, tobacco-jar, and match-box, appealed to him. He selected a cigarette from an open box at his elbow, and, lighting it, sighed contentedly. In reaching back to deposit the burnt match on an ash-tray, his hand upset a stack of folded papers and spilled them on the floor. "The devil!" he exclaimed, and, doubling up, scooped for the nearest. What's this, he wondered, as a yard or two of narrow, printed matter unrolled from his hand. He was a stranger to galley-proofs. He looked at the top of the upper strip, and saw, in heavy, black type, "The Colonel and the Lady." Then he settled back in the chair, crossed his thin, tight-clad legs, and smoothed the proof. Ten minutes later Hemming's orderly entered and mended the fire; but the colonel did not look up. The orderly retired. The clock on the chimneypiece ticked away the seconds all unheeded. The shadows lengthened at the windows, and at last the colonel straightened himself, and replaced the papers. He smiled. "Sly old Hemming," he remarked, and laughed outright. "He shouldn't show us up like that," he said, "but it's a good yarn. Wonder if he will lend it to me to finish to-night?" Just then Captain Hemming entered. By this time the room was dusk with the twilight of early spring. He did not sight the colonel immediately, and, going over to a wardrobe, hung up his cap and greatcoat. He was in "undress" uniform--his blue serge tunic somewhat shabby, but his riding-breeches and high, spurred boots smart and new. The colonel coughed. Though the captain's greeting was prompt and polite, it did not hide his surprise. "I dropped in to speak about Tomilson--he seems in a bad way," the other explained. Tomilson was a full private--in both rank and condition. Hemming advised leniency in this case. He had a soft heart for the men, in spite of his abrupt diction, and the uncompromising glare of his single eye-glass. When the commanding officer was about to take his departure, the captain asked him to wait a minute. His manner was as cool as ever. "I intend resigning my commission, sir. I decided on the course some days ago, and meant to speak to you after parade to-morrow," he said. "Bless me," exclaimed the colonel, "what the devil have you been up to?" The other smiled,--a somewhat thin smile,--and replied that he had not disgraced the regiment, or done anything low. "But I'm down to my pay again," he exclaimed, "and I can't live on that." "Why not? Have you ever tried?" inquired the colonel. Hemming did not answer the question, but waited, with his hands behind his back, and his face toward the fast darkening windows.