'What kind of a looking fellow was he?' 'I don't think I am a judge; I was only a kiddy at the time, and people said I made an idol of Maurice. But to me he was just splendid, just the handsomest fellow I ever saw. He had such a way with him, too; no one could refuse him anything.' 'I suppose he was engaged to Miss Blackwater?' The girl was silent. Evidently she did not wish to talk about it. 'Were the two brothers fond of each other?' I asked. 'Oh, yes, awfully fond. The news of Maurice's death almost killed George. You see, it happened not long after his father's death. You have no idea how he was cut up; it was just horrible to see him. But he's got over it now. It nearly broke my heart too, so I can quite understand what George felt. But this must be very uninteresting to you.' 'On the other hand, it is very interesting. Did you tell me that George St. Mabyn was engaged to Miss Blackwater?' 'No, I didn't tell you that.' 'Is he going to be?' I knew I was rather overstepping the bounds of good taste, but the question escaped me almost before I was aware. 'I don't know. Oh, won't it be lovely when the war is over! You think it will be over soon, don't you?' 'I am afraid not,' I said; 'as far as I can see, we are only at the beginning of it.' 'Have you reason for saying that?' 'The gravest,' I replied; 'why do you ask?' 'Only that I feel so ashamed of myself. Here are you going to a meeting to-night to persuade men to join the Army, while some of us women do practically nothing. But I'm going to; I told dad I should, only this morning, but he laughed at me. He said I should stay at home and stick to my knitting.' 'What did you tell him you were going to do?' 'Train as a nurse. But he wouldn't hear of it. He said it was not a fit thing for a young girl to nurse wounded men. But if they are wounded for their country, surely we women ought to stop at nothing. But here we are at the hall. Mind you make a good speech, Captain Luscombe; I am going to be an awfully severe critic.' After the meeting, George St. Mabyn returned with us to Granitelands, and Sir Roger, in talking about the men who had volunteered for service that night, again referred to the meeting at Plymouth, and to the man who had enlisted. He also again insisted upon the possible romantic outcome of the situation. Again I thought I saw the haunted look in George St. Mabyn's eyes, and I fancied that the cigar he held between his fingers trembled. Miss Blackwater, however, showed very little interest in the story, and seemed to be somewhat bored by its recital. Lorna Bolivick, however, was greatly interested. 'And do you mean to say,' she asked, 'that you don't know where he is?' 'I have not the slightest idea.' 'And aren't you going to find out?' 'If I can, certainly.'