ce will know heaps of fellows I used to know,
and tell me what's become of them all. Besides, I'm sick to
death of the local gang and Lawrence will be a change. He's got
more brains than Jack Bendish, and from the style of his letter
he can't be so much like a curate as Val is." Val Stafford was
agent for the Wanhope property. "Oh, by George!"

"What's the matter?"

Bernard threw back his head and grinned broadly with half shut
eyes. "Ha, ha! by Gad, that's funny--that's very funny. Why,
Val knows him!"

"Knows Lawrence? I never heard Val mention his name."

"No, my love, but one can't get Val to open his lips on that
subject. Lawrence and I were in the same battalion. He was there
when Val got his ribbon."

"Really? That will be nice for Val, meeting him again."

"Oh rather!" said Bernard Clowes. "On my word it's a shame and
I've half a mind . . .. No, let him come: let him come and be
damned to the pair of them! Straighten me out, will you?" He was
liable like most paralytics to mechanical jerks and convulsions
which drove him mad with impatience. Laura drew down the
helplessly twitching knee, and ran one firm hand over him from
thigh to ankle. Her touch had a mesmeric effect on his nerves
when he could endure it, but nine times out of ten he struck it
away. He did so now. "Go to the devil! How often have I told
you not to paw me about? I wish you'd do as you're told. What
do you call him Lawrence for?"

"I always did. But I'll call him Captain Hyde if you like--"

"'Mr.,' you mean: he's probably dropped the 'Captain.' He was
only a 'temporary.'"

"For all that, he has stuck to his prefix," said Laura smiling.
"Lucian chaffed him about it. But Lawrence was always rather a
baby in some ways: clocked socks to match his ties, and
astonishing adventures in jewellery, and so on. Oh yes, I knew
him very well indeed when I was a girl. Mr. and Mrs. Hyde were
among the last of the old set who kept up with us after father
was turned out of his clubs. I've stayed at Farringay."

"You never told me that!"

"I never thought of telling you. Lawrence hasn't been near us
since we came to Wanhope and I don't recollect your ever
mentioning his name. You see I tell you now."

"How old were you when you stayed at Farringay?"

"Twenty-two. Lawrence and I are the same age."

"And you knew him well, did you?"

"We were great friends," said Mrs. Clowes, tossing a lump of
sugar out of the window to