hrough, I'll be a helpless
crock all my days. I funked it till I thought of you. I thought the
sight of another fellow who has gone through it and stuck it out might
give me courage. I've had my wife here. We're rather fond of one
another, you know ... My God! what brave things women are! If she had
broken down all over me I could have risen to the occasion. But she
didn't, and I felt a cowardly worm."

"I had a brave wife, too," said I, and for a few moments we talked
shyly about the women who had played sacred parts in our lives. Whether
he was comforted by what I said I don't know. Probably he only listened
politely. But I think he found comfort in a sympathetic ear.

Presently he turned on to Boyce, the real motive of his summons. He
repented much that he had told and written to me. His long defamation
of the character of a brother-officer had lain on his conscience. And
lately he had, at last, met Boyce personally, and his generous heart
had gone out to the man's soldierly charm.

"I never felt such a slanderous brute in my life as when I shook him by
the hand. You know the feeling--how one wants to get behind a hedge and
kick oneself. Kick oneself," he repeated faintly. Then he closed his
eyes and his lips contracted in pain.

The Sister, who had been watching him from a distance, came up. He had
talked enough. It was time to go. But at the announcement he opened his
eyes again and with an effort recovered his gaiety.

"The whole gist of the matter lies in the postscript. Like a woman's
letter. I must have my postscript."

"Very well. Two more minutes."

"Merciless dragon," said he.

She smiled and left us.

"The dearest angel, bar one, in the world." said he. "What were we
talking about?"

"Colonel Boyce."

"Oh, yes. Forgive me. My head goes FUT now and then. It's idiotic not
to be able to control one's brain.... The point is this. I may peg out.
I know this operation they're going to perform is just touch and go. I
want to face things with a clear conscience. I've convinced you,
haven't I, that there wasn't a word of truth in that South-African
story? If ever it crops up you'll scotch it like a venomous snake?"

The ethics of my answer I leave to the casuist. I am an old-fashioned
Church of England person. As I am so mentally constituted that I am
unable to believe cheerfully in nothing. I believe in God and Jesus
Christ, and accept the details of doctrine as laid down in the
Thirty-nine Articles