The only other thing I have to mention to you, Charles, upon this subject, is the application of a very earnest young lieutenant, who, I'm sure, would always obey all rules and regulations, both in letter and spirit, with scrupulous regard. His application is worth setting out in full:--"I have the honour to apply for leave to the United Kingdom to get married from January 9th to January 18th inclusive." Yours ever, HENRY. * * * * * [Illustration: "WONDER 'OW THE NAVY'S GETTIN' ON." "DUNNO. AIN'T SEEN 'EM ABOUT LATELY."] * * * * * THREE AUGUSTS. A WAR-TIME DRAMA. ACT I. _A room in Mary Gray's flat in the West End, August, 1914._ _There is a door_ R., _leading into the hall. There is also a door_ L., _but it only leads into a cupboard that_ Mary _really needs._ Marmaduke Beltravers, _a well-dressed man of thirty-five, is standing by a small table pressing his suit_ (_his matrimonial suit, of course_), _but without success. His bold black eyes are flashing._ Mary's _lovely face (_by an ingenious manipulation of the limelight_) is quivering._ _Marmaduke Beltravers_ (_hoarsely_). I have laid at your feet my hand, my heart and my flourishing business, and thus--thus I am supplanted by that puling saint, George Jeffreys. A-ha! [_Gnaws his moustache._ _Enter_ George Jeffreys, _an English gentleman._ _George Jeffreys_ (_furiously_). You here? You hound! You blackguard! You ... _Mary_ (_realising that this is going to be no place for a lady_). The butcher--know his ring. [_Exit by door_ R. _G.J._ (_pointing fiercely to cupboard_). Go! _M.B._ (_going_). Bah! You triumph now, but my day will dawn yettah. (_Starts._) What was that? _Newsboy_ (_outside_). War with Germany! War with Germany! _G.J._ War? Then I am a pauper. [_He does not say how, but presumably he knows best._ _M.B._ (_ceasing to go_). My day has dawned _now_. _G.J._ How so? _M.B._ Your conscience calls you, does it not, to enlist? (George _nods._) I have no conscience. While you fight I shall continue to press my suit. _G.J._ (_despairingly to himself_). Alas! what chance will that sweet girl have against his dark saturnine beauty and his wealth? (_Aloud, hopefully, as a thought strikes him_) But stay--war with Germany--perhaps you are a pauper also? _M.B._ Not I, indeed. I am a maker of munitions. A-ha! [_Twirls his moustache._ _G.J._ (_losing his temper_). Cur! [_Exit, to enlist, into cupboard. Before he has time to realise his mistake the curtain falls._ ACT II. _Hyde Park, August, 1915._ _A dozen energetic supers, by being extremely glad to see one another very many times, are creating the illusion of a gay and fashionable throng. Enter_ Marmaduke Beltravers _with_ Mary. _She is distraite._ _M.B._ (_in full hearing of fashionable throng_). Darling, I have waited patiently for you. Say that you will marry me now.