"Nelly will have to wait a year or so more, I'm afraid--I'm deuced hard up. But I suppose you're in the same street. Come and have a smoke." I was not in the same street; but I went and had a smoke. We talked of many things, and when I left I knew that John had slipped down, but how far down I was yet to know. Before I left the club I accepted an invitation to supper with him in his rooms; he had received a port appointment, and was for the present stationed in Rangoon. I went to that supper. There were two or three others there, and a lady--God save the mark!--who did the honours of the house. I could have struck Mazarion where he sat brazening the whole thing out; but I held myself in somehow and saw it through. I was the first to go, and Mazarion followed me to the door--shame was not quite dead in him. "Look here, old man," he said, "you're off home, I know, and will see Nelly. You needn't--and--you know what I mean--" holding out his hand. I drew back. "Yes, I know what you mean, and I will keep silent. But I would to God I hadn't accepted your cursed hospitality!" And I turned and walked down the stairway, leaving him on the landing, white with rage. In a month from that day I was in England, and a week later I had seen Nelly. I well remember it was with a beating heart that I came to the door of the suburban villa with the May tree in bloom near the gate, and in a minute or so was in the little drawing-room I knew so well. In the place of honour was a large photograph of Mazarion in his naval uniform, and near it was a vase with a votive offering of fresh flowers. I felt who had placed them there, and swore bitterly under my breath. Then the door opened and Nelly came in with outstretched bands. "I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Thring, after all these years." "And it seems to me as if I had never been away. I shook off the East with the first grey sky I saw." Then we sat and talked, but I carefully avoided the subject of Mazarion, and now and again parried a leading question because I did not know what to say, and felt miserable when I saw the eager light in Nelly's eyes fade into a look of disappointment. Finally Mrs. Carstairs, Nelly's mother, came in, and it was a relief, for I had to go over my experiences again. But I struck on the rocks at last when Mrs. Carstairs said: "Well, I suppose you are lucky in getting back in four years--though that does seem such a long time." "Yes, I suppose I am, Mrs. Carstairs. There are men who have been away ten years and more, and whose prospects of seeing home again are still far." I thought I heard the faintest echo of a sigh, and grew hot all over. My hand shook so that I could hear the teacup I held rattle on the saucer. I was a tactless fool. "How hard!" said Mrs. Carstairs, "and there is poor John still out there, waiting for his step. I wonder when he will get it and be able to come home."