and compel her surrender, as you can
compel that of a mere man. We went on arguing, and after a time I
really did not know what I was arguing about. I advanced and tried to
support the theory that on the whole the progress of humanity as
represented by the British Empire in general and the about-to-be
Lieutenant Tufton in particular, was advanced by the opportune demise
of an unfortunately balanced lady. From her point--or rather her
circular area of vision--perhaps my dear Betty was right in declaring
me odious. She hated to be reminded of the intolerable goosiness of her
swan. She longed for comforting, corroborative evidence of essential
swaniness for her own justification. In a word, the poor dear girl was
sore all over with mortification, and wherever one touched her, no
matter with how gentle a finger, one hurt.

"I would have trusted that woman," she cried tragically, "with a
gold-mine or a distillery."

"We trusted her with something more valuable, my dear," said I. "Our
guileless faith in human nature. Anyhow we'll keep the faith undamaged."

She smiled. "That's considerably less odious."

Nothing more could be said. We let the unfortunate subject rest in
peace for ever after.

These two episodes, the death of poor Reggie Dacre and the Tufton
catastrophe, are the only incidents in my diary that are worth
recording here. Christmas came and went and we entered on the new year
of 1916. It was only at a date in the middle of February, a year since
I had driven to Wellings Park to hear the tragic news of Oswald
Fenimore's death, that I find an important entry in my diary.

CHAPTER XVII

Mrs. Boyce was shown into my study, her comely Dresden china face very
white and her hands shaking. She held a telegram. I had seen faces like
that before. Every day in England there are hundreds thus stricken. I
feared the worst. It was a relief to read the telegram and find that
Boyce was only wounded. The message said seriously wounded, but gave
consolation by adding that his life was not in immediate danger. Mrs.
Boyce was for setting out for France forthwith. I dissuaded her from a
project so embarrassing to the hospital authorities and so fatiguing to
herself. In spite of the chivalry and humanity of our medical staff,
old ladies of seventy are not welcome at a busy base hospital. As soon
as he was fit to be moved, I assured her, he would be sent home, before
she could even obtain her permits and passes and pas