"It's not worth the risk, dear. One man's life is not worth the risk. It's a risk you just dare not take. It may mean everything--it may mean failure--it may mean disgrace." He paused and looked steadily across the shifting scene of gaiety and colour, while a long bamboo pole with a little bag on the end, wielded by some passing vocalist, was thrust towards him unheeded. Then with a short laugh he pulled himself together, and lit a cigarette. "But enough of dull care. Let us away, and gaze upon beautiful women and brave men. What's that little tune they're playing?" "That's that waltz--what the deuce is the name, Pat?" asked Jack, untying the punt. "'Destiny,'" answered Pat briefly, and we passed out into the stream. * * * * * A month afterwards we three were again at Henley, not in flannels in a punt on the river, but in khaki, with a motor waiting at the door of the Delawnays' house to take us back to Aldershot. I do not propose to dwell over the scene, but in the setting down of the story it cannot be left out. Europe was at war; the long-expected by those scoffed-at alarmists had actually come. England and Germany were at each other's throats. Inside the house Jack was with his mother. Personally, I was standing in the garden with the grey-haired father; and Jerry was--well, where else could he have been? As is the way with men, we discussed the roses, and the rascality of the Germans, and everything except what was in our hearts. And in one of the pauses in our spasmodic conversation we heard her voice, just over the hedge: "God guard and keep you, my man, and bring you back to me safe!" And the voice was steady, though one could feel those dear eyes dim with tears. And then Jerry's, dear old Jerry's voice--a little bit gruff it was, and a little bit shaky: "My love! My darling!" But the old man was going towards the house, blowing his nose; and I--don't hold with love and that sort of thing at all. True, I blundered into a flower-bed, which I didn't see clearly, as I went towards the car, for there are things which one may not hear and remain unmoved. Perhaps, if things had been different, and Jerry--dear old Jerry--hadn't---- But there, I'm wandering again. At last we were in the car and ready to start. "Take care of him, Jerry; he and Pat are all we've got." It was Mrs. Delawnay speaking, standing there with the setting sun on her sweet face and her husband's arm about her. "I'll be all right, mater," answered Jack gruffly. "Buck up! Back for Christmas!" "I'll look after him, Mrs. Delawnay," answered Jerry, but his eyes were fixed on Pat, and for him the world held only her. As the car swung out of the gate, we looked back the last time and saluted, and it was only I who saw through a break in the hedge two women locked in each other's arms, while a grey-haired gentleman sat very still on a garden-seat, with his eyes fixed on the river rolling smoothly by.