lint, The drawn damp face and the draggled hair . . . But she found him blooming in Grosvenor Square, With a punctured shin in a splint. IT wasn't a haunt of Ermyn- trude's, That grandiose urban pile; Like starlight in arctic altitudes Was the stately Sister's smile. It was just the reverse with Ensign Joy-- In his golden greeting no least alloy-- In his shining eyes no guile! HE showed her the bullet that did the trick-- He showed her the trick, x-ray'd; He showed her a table timed to a tick, And a map that an airman made. He spoke of a shell that caused grievous loss-- But he never mentioned a certain cross For his part in the escapade! SHE saw it herself in a list next day, And it brought her back to his bed, With a number of beautiful things to say, Which were mostly over his head. Turned pink as his own pyjamas' stripe, To her mind he ceased to em- body a type-- Sank into her heart instead. I WONDER that all of you didn't retire!" "My blighters were not that kind." "But it says _you_ 'advanced un- der murderous fire, Machine-gun and shell com- bined--'" "Oh, that's the regular War Office wheeze!" "'Advanced'--with that leg!-- 'on his hands and knees'!" "I couldn't leave it behind." HE was soon trick-driving an invalid chair, and dancing about on a crutch; The _haute noblesse_ of Grosvenor Square Felt bound to oblige as such; They sent him for many a motor- whirl-- With the wistful, willowy wisp of a girl Who never again lost touch. THEIR people were most of them dead and gone. They had only themselves to His pay was enough to marry