"Very difficult," Harran agreed gravely. He glanced down with interest
at the alert face and square-built figure of the boy beside him. There
were so many of them, these boys who had played with Death for years.
They have saved their country from horror and ruin, and now it seemed
very doubtful if their country wanted them. They were in every town in
England, looking for work; their pitiful, plucky advertisements greeted
the eye in every newspaper. The problem of their future interested
General Harran keenly. He liked his boys; their freshness and pluck and
unspoiled enthusiasm had been a tonic to him during the long years of
war. Now it hurt him that they should be looking for the right to live.

"I'm just going to lunch, Rainham," he said. "Would you care to come
with me?"

Bob lifted a quaintly astonished face.

"Thanks, awfully, sir," he stammered.

"Then jump on this 'bus, and we'll go to my club," said the General,
swinging his lean, athletic body up the stairs of a passing motor-'bus
as he spoke. Bob followed, and they sped, rocking, through the packed
traffic until the General, who had sat in silence, jumped up, threaded
his way downstairs, and dropped to the ground again from the footboard
of the hurrying 'bus--with a brief shake of the head to the conductor,
who was prepared to check the speed of his craft to accommodate a
passenger with such distinguished badges of rank. Bob was on the ground
almost as quickly, and they turned out of the crowded street into
a quieter one that presently led them into a silent square, where
dignified grey houses looked out upon green trees, and the only traffic
was that of gliding motors. General Harran led the way into one of the
grey houses, up the steps of which officers were constantly coming
and going. A grizzled porter in uniform, with the Crimean medal on his
tunic, swung the door open and came smartly to attention as they passed
through. The General greeted him kindly.

"How are you, O'Shea? The rheumatism better?"

"It is, sir, thank you." They passed on, through a great hall lined with
oil-paintings of famous soldiers, and trophies of big game from all
over the world; for this was a Service club, bearing a proud record of
soldier and sailor members for a hundred years. Presently they were in
the dining-room, already crowded. The waiter found them a little table
in a quiet corner.

There was a sprinkling of men whom Bob already knew; he caught several
friendl