'_Missing?_ That means--a prisoner. George is a prisoner--and wounded! Can't I go to him?' She looked piteously at Hester. Bridget had come up and was standing near. 'If he's a prisoner, he's in a German hospital. Dear Mrs. Sarratt, you'll soon hear of him!' Nelly stood up. Her young beauty of an hour before seemed to have dropped from her like the petals of a rose. She put her hand to her forehead. 'But I shan't see him--again'--she said slowly--'till the end of the war--_the end of the war_'--she repeated, pressing her hands on her eyes. The note of utter desolation brought the tears to Hester's cheeks. But before she could say anything, Nelly had turned sharply to her sister. 'Bridget, I must go up to-night!' 'Must you?' said Bridget reluctantly. 'I don't see what you can do.' 'I can go to the War Office--and to that place where they make enquiries for you. Of _course_, I must go to London!--and I must stay there. There might be news of him any time.' Bridget and Hester looked at each other. The same thought was in their minds. But Nelly, restored to momentary calmness by her own suggestion, went quickly to Farrell, who with his sister and Marsworth was standing a little way off. 'I must go to London to-night, Sir William. Could you order something for me?' 'I'll take you to Windermere, Mrs. Sarratt,' said Cicely before her brother could reply. 'The motor's there now.' 'No, no, Cicely, I'll take Mrs. Sarratt,' said Farrell impatiently. 'I'll send back a car from Ambleside, for you and Marsworth.' 'You forget Sir George Whitehead,' said Cicely quietly. 'I'll do everything.' Sir George Whitehead of the A.M.S.C. was expected at Carton that evening on a visit of inspection to the hospital. Farrell, as Commandant, could not possibly be absent. He acknowledged the fact by a gesture of annoyance. Cicely immediately took things in charge. A whirl of packing and departure followed. By the time she and her charges left for Windermere, Cicely's hat and high heels had been entirely blotted out by a quite extraordinary display on her part of both thoughtfulness and efficiency. Marsworth had seen the same transformation before, but never so markedly. He tried several times to make his peace with her; but she held aloof, giving him once or twice an odd look out of her long almond-shaped eyes. 'Good-bye, and good luck!' said Farrell to Nelly, through the car window; and as she held out her hand, he stooped and kissed it with a gulp in his throat. Her deathly pallor and a grey veil thrown back and tied under her small chin gave her a ghostly loveliness which stamped itself on his recollection. 'I am going up to town myself to-morrow. I shall come and see if I can do anything for you.' 'Thank you,' said Nelly mechanically. 'Oh yes, I shall have thought of many things by then. Good-bye.' Marsworth and Farrell were left to watch the disappearance of the car along the moonlit road.