The mass of the force in Egypt transferred from Gallipoli, rage the ‘_unterseebote_’ never so fiercely, is resting and retraining. If you’ve been six months on Gallipoli you’ll run a mile to see a nursing sister, and both Atkins and his officers are soft of heart. Graceful Cairenes in French cut skirts of black _crépe de chine_ with ever the topmost button undone, with black head-shawls of the same material, and evanescent veils that faintly cloud to distraction the face below the eyes, are strong wine for young soldiers. So attractive is the dress that the old hand will tell you that many another than Cairenes will don the dress when out for a spree—a disguise that also enhances attraction is a good find, _mesdames_! Atkins himself and Hotspur the yeoman are nothing if not gallant. Here is a true story from Port Said. Time about 8 P.M. Attractive English lady hears two soldiers walking fast behind who come up one on either side. FIRST SOLDIER. Beg pardon, miss, do you speak English? ATTRACTIVE LADY. Yes. BOTH SOLDIERS. Oh, you are English! FIRST SOLDIER. I think we saw you waving out of the window. ATTRACTIVE LADY. I think you are mistaking me for Mrs. Brown’s nursemaid! SECOND SOLDIER (_severely_). You must be an ass to take this young lady for a nursemaid! BOTH SOLDIERS. Perhaps we ought not to have spoken, but we are very lonely—may we walk with you? ATTRACTIVE LADY. I am going this way. FIRST SOLDIER. Would you tell us who you are, miss? ATTRACTIVE LADY. I am the chaplain’s sister. (_Sensation and silence._) FIRST SOLDIER (_plucking up courage_). We never saw a chaplain’s sister like you before. SECOND SOLDIER. No, indeed, only one I knew was enough to give you the ’orrors. ATTRACTIVE LADY (_somewhat flattered, stopping at door of a house under a street lamp_). I must say good-night now. I live here. BOTH SOLDIERS. Now we see you we are sorry we spoke to you, for we can see you are more one for the officers than for us. (_Exit._) And so it runs from Putney to Port Said, and from Cambridge to Cairo. Soldiers are very susceptible gents, as the late Francis Bacon knew and so stated. And while one big army has delved and dug and built on the canal and taken toll of Sinai, another force has chased the Senussi up and down the Western desert, and yeomen from the shires have watered their horses at the garden steps of the week-end villa at Matrush, where Antony entertained Cleopatra. This is no doubt foretold by one of the minor prophets whom Voltaire considered _capable de tout_. It is certainly a dramatic event for those who moralise on empires’ rise and wane.