"My character _has_ changed during the last five years, and especially so since I came back from South Africa. But I am quite sure it was not due to any operation, on the throat or anywhere else. I really don't know _why_ I told you that silly falsehood in the train--about necrosis of the jaw. The fact is that when I was in hospital--at--Colesberg, a friend of mine in the same ward used--to chaff me--and say I was going to have necrosis. I had got knocked over one day--by--the--wind of a shell and thought I was done for, but it really was next to nothing. P'raps I had a dose of fever on top. At any rate they kept me in hospital, and one morning the doctors disappeared and the Boers marched in and when I got well enough I managed to escape and get away to--er--Cape Town and so returned--with some money--my friend Frank Gardner lent me." (At this stage the sick-at-heart Vivie was saying to herself, "_What_ an account I'm laying up for Frank to honour when he comes back--if he _does_ come back.") "I don't know _why_ I tell you all this, except that I ought never to have misled you at the start. But _if_ you are a kind and good man"--David's voice broke here--"You will forget all about it and not upset my father, I can _assure_ you I haven't done _anything_ really wrong. I haven't deserted--some day--perhaps--I can tell you all about it. But at present all that South African episode is just a horrid dream--I was more sinned against than sinning" (tears were rather in the voice at this stage). "I want to forget all about it--and settle down and vex my father no more. I want to read for the Bar--a soldier's life is the very _opposite_ to what I should choose if I were a free agent. But you will trust me, won't you? You will believe me when I say I've done _nothing_ wrong, nothing that you, if you knew all the facts, would call wrong...?" Speech here trailed off into emotion. Despite the severest self-restraint the bosom rose and fell. A few tears trickled down the smooth cheeks--it was an ingratiating boy on the verge of manhood that Rossiter saw before him. He hastened to say: "My _dear_ chap! Don't say another word, unless you like to blackguard me for my impertinence in putting these questions. I _quite_ understand. We'll consider the whole thing erased from our memories. Go on studying for the Bar with all your might, if you must take up so barren a profession and won't become my pupil in biology--Great openings, I can tell you, coming now in that direction." (A pause.)