"Tell me," he said, "when you feel well enough." But I lay, and closed my eyes, for I was dog-tired, and could not bring myself to speak even to Dennis of the specialist's terrible verdict. And soon Nature asserted herself, and I fell into a deep sleep, which was the best thing I could have done. When I awoke I was lying in bed, in total darkness, in Dennis's extra room. I sat up, and called out in my surprise, for I had been many miles away in my slumbers, and my first hope was that the whole adventure had been a hideous nightmare. But Dennis, hearing my shout, walked in to see if I wanted anything. "Now, how do you feel?" he asked, as he sat on the side of the bed. "Did you carry me in here and put me to bed?" I asked idly. "You certainly didn't look like walking, and I thought you'd be more comfortable in here," he laughed. "Great Scott, man!" I cried, suddenly remembering his heart trouble, "you shouldn't have done that, Dennis. You promised me you'd take no risks." "Heavens! that was nothing," he declared emphatically. "You're as light as a feather. There was no risk in that." Indeed, as events were to prove, it was only the first of many, but being ignorant of that at the time, I contented myself with pointing out that very few feathers turned the scale at twelve-stone-three. "Now look here, old son," said Dennis, in an authoritative voice. "You mustn't imagine I'm dealing with your trouble, whatever it is (for you _are_ in trouble, Ronald), in a matter-of-fact and unsympathetic way. But what you've got to do now is to get up, have a tub, slip into a dressing-gown, and have a quiet little dinner with me here. It's just gone eight, so you ought to be ready for it." He disappeared to turn on the bath-water, and then, when he met me in the passage making for the bathroom, he handed me a glass. "Drink this, old chap," he said. "What is it?" I asked suspiciously. "I don't want any fancy pick-me-ups. They only make you worse afterwards." "That was prescribed by Doctor Common Sense," he answered lightly. "It's peach bitters!" After my tub I was able to tackle my dinner, with the knowledge that I was badly in need of something to eat, a feeling which surprised me very much. Throughout the meal Dennis told me of the enlistment of Jack and poor Tommy Evans, and we discussed their prospects and the chances of my seeing them before they disappeared into the crowded ranks of Kitchener's Army. Dennis himself had been ruthlessly refused. He spoke of trying his luck again until they accepted him, but I knew, from what he told me of the doctor's remarks, that he had no earthly chance of being passed. He seemed to have entirely mastered his regret at his inability to serve his country in the ranks, but I understood at once that he was merely putting his own troubles in the background in face of my own. The meal over, we "got behind" two of Dennis's excellent cigars, and made ourselves comfortable.