Winn turned his sardonic eyes towards her. "Thanks," he drawled, "I dare say it's the kind of thing you'd like. They propose that I should stay on here at the Staff College for another year and write 'em a damned red tape report on Tibet." His irony, dropped from him. "If it was a job," he said in a low voice, "I'd go like a shot." "Mightn't it mean promotion?" she asked a little nervously. Winn shrugged his shoulders. "I can write anything they want out there," he said gloomily. "All I want is ink! What I know I've got in my head, you see. I'd take that with me." "But you couldn't talk things over with them or answer their questions, could you?" Estelle intelligently ventured. She had an intelligence which ripened along the line of her desires. "I could tell them anything they want to know in ten minutes!" said Winn impatiently. "They don't want information, they want a straight swift kick! They know what I think--they just want me to string out a lot of excuses for them not to act! Besides the chief thing is--they'd have to send for me, if there was a row--I know the ground and the other chaps don't. I wish to God there'd be a row!" Estelle sighed and gazed pathetically out of the window. Her eyes rested on the bed where the hyacinths were planted, and beyond it to gorse bushes and a corrugated iron shed. They were at Aldershot, which was really rather a good place for meeting suitable people. "What do you intend to do?" she asked, trembling a little. Winn was at his worst when questioned as to his intentions; he preferred to let them explode like fire-crackers. "Do!" he snorted, "Write and tell 'em when they've got any kind of job on the size of six-pence I'll be in it! And if not Tibet's about as useful to draw up a report on--as ice in the hunting season--and I'm off in March--and that's that!" A tear rolled down Estelle's cheek and splashed on the tablecloth; she trembled harder until her teaspoon rattled. Winn looked at her. "What's up?" he asked irritably. "Anything wrong?" "I suppose," she said, prolonging a small sob, "you don't care what I feel about going to India?" "But you knew we were always going out in March didn't you?" he asked, as if that had anything to do with it! The absurd face value that he gave to facts was enough to madden any woman. Estelle sobbed harder. "I never knew I should be so unhappy!" she moaned. Winn looked extremely foolish and rather conscience-stricken; he even made a movement to rise, but thought better of it. "I'm sure I'm awfully sorry," he said apologetically. "I suppose you mean you're a bit sick of me, don't you?" Estelle wiped her eyes, and returned to her toast. "Can't you see," she asked bitterly, "that our life together is the most awful tragedy?"