No doubt his striking personal appearance, his indescribable charm of manner--perhaps too his brilliant and witty conversational powers--had something to do with the matter. At the date when war again broke out, Moore, already a General, was only in his forty-third year--a man of commanding presence, tall and graceful, with a countenance of rare beauty. But those things which really lay at the foundation of this extraordinary control over others were,--the force of his character, the vivid enthusiasm of his purpose, the loftiness of his ideals, the simple grandeur of his life. He had no doubt his enemies. What truly great man, who does not pander to the littlenesses of truly little men, ever fails to make some enemies? It could not be otherwise. His inviolable integrity, his blameless name, the splendid disdain with which he spurned everything false and mean--such qualities as these in Moore made some of a baser type turn from and even turn against one so infinitely more noble than themselves. But to men of a higher and purer stamp Moore was as the Bayard of the Middle Ages had been to a former generation, a knight _sans peur et sans reproche_, a model upon which they might seek to shape themselves. With Ivor, as with many another, to have known Moore was to have been imbued for life with new aims, new ideals, new views of duty, new thoughts of self-abnegation. Not so much from what Moore might here or there have said, as from what he always was. To be under the man was in itself an inspiration. Soon after Jack's departure for Sandgate, Admiral Peirce was called away on duty, and then the Bryces decided to flit eastward. Mrs. Bryce, who loved sensation, talked of a visit to Folkestone, a very tiny watering-place in those days, but within easy reach of Sandgate, and of Moore's Camp at Shorncliffe. As a next move she offered to take Polly with her. Mrs. Fairbank demurred, and Mrs. Bryce insisted. Polly had kept up bravely under her separation from Ivor, but her pretty face had lost some of its colour, and no one could deny that the change might do her good. Mrs. Fairbank, thus advised, yielded, and Polly of course was charmed. Who would not have been so in her place? She would see Jack again, also Jack's Commander and England's Hero, General Moore. She would be distinctly nearer to France, and therefore to Denham. She would be in the thick of all that was going on, and would hear the news of the hour at first hand. Moreover, Polly was young and loved variety. But what about Molly? "Molly has her lessons to learn. She and I will be companions each to the other," Mrs. Fairbank decided. Nobody saw aught to find fault with in the plan except Molly herself, and Molly said nothing. Under the circumstances no other seemed open, unless Polly were made to give up the change which she much needed. But in later years Molly often looked back with a shudder to those lonely autumn weeks.