Beyond them, where the first-class carriages and sleeping saloons began, the platform became quieter and less crowded. Several Naval and one or two Military officers walked to and fro, or stood at the doors of their compartments superintending the stowage of their luggage; a little way back from the light thrown from the carriage windows, two figures, a man and a girl, stood talking in low voices. Presently the man stepped under one of the overhanging lamps and consulted his wristwatch. The light of the arc-lamp, falling on the shoulder-straps of his uniform great-coat, indicated his rank, which was that of Lieutenant-Commander. "We've got five minutes more," he said. The girl nodded. "I know. I've been ticking off the minutes for the last week--in my head, I mean." She smiled, a rather wan little smile. Her companion slipped his arm inside hers, and together they walked towards the train. "Come and look at my cabin, Betty, and--let's see everything's there." He helped her into the corridor, and, following, encountered the uniformed attendant. The man held a notebook in his hand. "Are you Mr. Standish, sir?" he inquired, consulting his notebook. "That's my name as a rule," was the reply. "At the moment though, it's Mud--spelt M-U-D. Which is my abode?" "This way, sir." The attendant led the way along the corridor and pushed open the door of the narrow sleeping compartment. "Here you are, sir." He eyed the officer's companion with a professionally reassuring air, as much as to say, "He'll be all right in there, don't you worry." It certainly looked very snug and comfortable with the shaded light above the neat bunk and dark upholstery. "Ah," said the traveller, "we just wanted to--er--see everything was all right." "Quite so, sir. Plenty of time--lady not travelling, I presume? I'll come along when we're due to start and let you know." He closed the door with unobtrusive tact. The lady in question surveyed the apartment with the tender scrutiny of a mother about to relinquish her offspring to the rough usage of an unfamiliar world. "Bunje, darling," she said, and bent and brushed the pillow with her lips. "That's so that you'll sleep tight and not let the bogies bite." She smiled into her husband's eyes rather tremulously. "And take care of yourself as hard as ever you can. Remember your leg and your poor old head." His cap lay on the bunk, and she raised a slender forefinger to trace the outline of the shiny scar above his temple. "I've mended you so nicely." "I'll take care of myself all right, and you won't cry, will you, Betty, when I've gone? Promise--say: 'Sure-as-I'm-standing-here-I-won't-cry,' or I'll call the guard!"