"But I think that in the main it was jealousy—jealousy of Roy’s youth, and the fact that instead of being my son, as he might have been, he was my rival. It was a mad business altogether. Finally, I asked her to marry me." "She turned you down?" It was an unnecessary remark. "Of course she turned me down! But she did it very sweetly. She was rather apologetic about it; said she was engaged already, and perhaps she ought to have made that fact a little clearer to me from the start; only she never suspected, and so on." "She didn’t mention Roy’s name, I suppose?" "No! I half thought that she would, just to score me off. It would have been a real slap in the face for me, his Colonel, if she had. But she didn’t: she just said she was very, very sorry, but that she was engaged to some one else!" "Well, there was no great harm done," I said, wishing he would stop. But he had not finished yet. "And then—oh Lord, Alan!—do you know what I did then? I turned round on her, like a spoiled child, and accused her of having flirted with me, and led me on! And, not content with that, I turned on the pathetic tap. I said something rotten about expecting a little more consideration from her, seeing that I was going back to the trenches to-morrow—and muck like that! And she just looked at me, and said, quite quietly: ’He is there, too—now!’ As if I didn’t know! Oh, what a miserable rotter I was—and am!" He dropped into a chair, and buried his face in his arms. He was "doon in the midden" now. I puffed wretchedly at my pipe and longed, from the bottom of my heart, for an air raid. I found myself wondering whether Marjorie had ever told Roy of this incident. I decided that my Eve would not have done so; and therefore probably not Marjorie. Presently Eric began to talk again, with his forehead still close to the table. "And this very morning," he said bitterly—"with Roy’s death hardly made public—I came to this house fooling round Roy’s widow with flowers, and silly old man’s messages! I believe I was actually jealous of the dead, Alan! Well, that’s over now. I needn’t insult her any more—or him!" He sat up again, and took the pink slip. "This has killed my conceit at last—and perhaps saved my soul. Thank God I came across it! It has brought me to myself. And thank _you_, old friend"—Eric turned swiftly to me, and his face broke into the smile that I loved—"for what you did for me! You saved me from being sent home! Yes, and you provided me with a far more creditable exit from my soldiering career than I ever deserved!" "That’s all right," I said. "Let’s clear up these papers." But Eric was not listening. He had fallen into a rare mood—gentle and frank. He talked on—more calmly now. "Men are queer mixtures. And, oh Lord, how truly some women judge us! Marjorie saw through me from the start, I believe. So did Diana. Did you ever know why she broke off our engagement?"