o converse or attempt to enter into conversation with the M.L.O.

The only other thing I have to mention to you, Charles, upon this subject,
is the application of a very earnest young lieutenant, who, I'm sure, would
always obey all rules and regulations, both in letter and spirit, with
scrupulous regard. His application is worth setting out in full:--"I have
the honour to apply for leave to the United Kingdom to get married from
January 9th to January 18th inclusive."

Yours ever,

HENRY.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "WONDER 'OW THE NAVY'S GETTIN' ON."

"DUNNO. AIN'T SEEN 'EM ABOUT LATELY."]

* * * * *

THREE AUGUSTS.

A WAR-TIME DRAMA.

ACT I.

_A room in Mary Gray's flat in the West End, August, 1914._

_There is a door_ R., _leading into the hall. There is also a door_ L.,
_but it only leads into a cupboard that_ Mary _really needs._

Marmaduke Beltravers, _a well-dressed man of thirty-five, is standing
by a small table pressing his suit_ (_his matrimonial suit, of
course_), _but without success. His bold black eyes are flashing._
Mary's _lovely face (_by an ingenious manipulation of the limelight_)
is quivering._

_Marmaduke Beltravers_ (_hoarsely_). I have laid at your feet my hand, my
heart and my flourishing business, and thus--thus I am supplanted by that
puling saint, George Jeffreys. A-ha! [_Gnaws his moustache._

_Enter_ George Jeffreys, _an English gentleman._

_George Jeffreys_ (_furiously_). You here? You hound! You blackguard! You
...

_Mary_ (_realising that this is going to be no place for a lady_). The
butcher--know his ring. [_Exit by door_ R.

_G.J._ (_pointing fiercely to cupboard_). Go!

_M.B._ (_going_). Bah! You triumph now, but my day will dawn yettah.
(_Starts._) What was that?

_Newsboy_ (_outside_). War with Germany! War with Germany!

_G.J._ War? Then I am a pauper. [_He does not say how, but presumably
he knows best._

_M.B._ (_ceasing to go_). My day has dawned _now_.

_G.J._ How so?

_M.B._ Your conscience calls you, does it not, to enlist? (George _nods._)
I have no conscience. While you fight I shall continue to press my suit.

_G.J._ (_despairingly to himself_). Alas! what chance will that sweet girl
have against his dark saturnine beauty and his wealth? (_Aloud, hopefully,
as a thought strikes him_) But stay--war with Germany--perhaps you are