id
not salute him.

He took me first to the bridge and pulled up in the middle of it, to
point out a small recess in it, over the central pier, intended, no
doubt, to give shelter to foot-passengers before the bridge was widened,
in case a large vehicle came through.

"There," he said. "That's the place I first saw Frank when he came."

We drove on up through the town, and at the foot of the almost
precipitous hill leading up to the ruined church we got out, leaving the
dog-cart in charge of the groom. We climbed the hill slowly, for it was
a hot day, Jack uttering reminiscences at intervals (many of which are
recorded in these pages) and turned in at the churchyard gate.

"And this was the place," said Jack, "where I said good-by to him."

(II)

It was on the twenty-fifth of September, a Monday, that Jack sat in the
smoking-room, in Norfolk jacket and gaiters, drinking tea as fast as he
possibly could. He had been out on the moors all day, and was as thirsty
as the moors could make him, and he had been sensual enough to smoke a
cigarette deliberately before beginning tea, in order to bring his
thirst to an acute point.

Then, the instant he had finished he snatched for his case again, for
this was to be the best cigarette of the whole day, and discovered that
his sensuality had overreached itself for once, and that there were none
left. He clutched at the silver box with a sinking heart,
half-remembering that he had filled his case with the last of them this
morning. It was a fact, and he knew that there were no others in the
house.

This would never do, and he reflected that if he sent a man for some
more, he would not get them for at least twenty minutes. (Jack never
could understand why an able-bodied footman always occupied twenty
minutes in a journey that ought to take eight.) So he put on his cap
again, stepped out of the low window and set off down the drive.

* * * * *

It was getting a little dark as he passed out of the lodge-gates. The
sun, of course, had set at least an hour before behind the great hill to
the west, but the twilight proper was only just beginning. He was nearly
at the place now, and as he breasted the steep ascent of the bridge,
peered over it, at least with his mind's eye, at the tobacconist's
shop--first on the left--where a store of "Mr. Jack's cigarettes" was
always on hand.

He noticed in the little recess I have just spoken of a man leani