all I can say is, I've had a wretched evening. Get to bed, old
girl. You'll be fit for nothing."

He was soon asleep, but Thirza lay awake, not exactly worrying, for that
was not her nature, but seeing Noel's face, pale, languid, passionate,
possessed by memory.

VI

1

Noel reached her father's house next day late in the afternoon. There
was a letter in the hall for her. She tore it open, and read:

"MY DARLING LOVE,

"I got back all right, and am posting this at once to tell you we shall
pass through London, and go from Charing Cross, I expect about nine
o'clock to-night. I shall look out for you, there, in case you are up in
time. Every minute I think of you, and of last night. Oh! Noel!

"Your devoted lover,

"C."

She looked at the wrist-watch which, like every other little patriot,
she possessed. Past seven! If she waited, Gratian or her father would
seize on her.

"Take my things up, Dinah. I've got a headache from travelling; I'm
going to walk it off. Perhaps I shan't be in till past nine or so. Give
my love to them all."

"Oh, Miss Noel, you can't,--"

But Noel was gone. She walked towards Charing Cross; and, to kill time,
went into a restaurant and had that simple repast, coffee and a bun,
which those in love would always take if Society did not forcibly feed
them on other things. Food was ridiculous to her. She sat there in the
midst of a perfect hive of creatures eating hideously. The place was
shaped like a modern prison, having tiers of gallery round an open
space, and in the air was the smell of viands and the clatter of plates
and the music of a band. Men in khaki everywhere, and Noel glanced from
form to form to see if by chance one might be that which represented,
for her, Life and the British Army. At half-past eight she went out and
made her way: through the crowd, still mechanically searching "khaki"
for what she wanted; and it was perhaps fortunate that there was about
her face and walk something which touched people. At the station she
went up to an old porter, and, putting a shilling into his astonished
hand, asked him to find out for her whence Morland's regiment would
start. He came back presently, and said:

"Come with me, miss."

Noel went. He was rather lame, had grey whiskers, and a ghostly thin
resemblance to her uncle Bob, which perhaps had been the reason why she
had chosen him. 64

"Brother goin' out, miss?"

Noel nodded.

"Ah! It's a crool war. I shan