rdonically.

"Ugly devil," he called himself, and then wondered how Mary would look
as Phyllida the ideal milkmaid.

Ugly he might be, but his type was not unsuited to the period he had
chosen. A smallish head, wide across the brows, well-shaped and
poised, with straight, smooth hair that grew far back on the temples
and would recede even further as the years went on; humorous bright
grey eyes, not large, but set wide apart under slightly marked
eyebrows; a pugnacious, rather sharply-pointed nose with a ripple in
it. Reggie declared that his nose had really meant well, but changed
its mind half way down. His mouth under the fair moustache was not in
the least beautiful, but it was trustworthy, neither weak nor sensual,
and the chin was square and dogged. His face looked long with the
pointed beard he had stuck on with such care, and above the wide white
ruff, might well have belonged to some gentleman adventurer who
followed the fortunes of Raleigh or Drake. For in spite of its
insignificant irregularity of feature there was alert resolve in its
expression; a curious light-hearted fixity of purpose that was
arresting.

Reggie had never been popular or distinguished at Wellington; yet those
masters who knew most about boys always prophecied that "he would make
his mark."

It was the same at the "Shop"; although he never rose above a corporal,
there were those among the instructors who foretold great things of his
future. His pass-out place was a surprise to everyone, himself most of
all. He was reserved and did not make friends easily; he got on quite
pleasantly with such men as he was thrown with; but he was not a
_persona grata_ in his profession. He got through such a thundering
lot of work with such apparent ease.

"A decent chap, but a terrible beggar to swat," was the general verdict
upon Reginald Peel.

To Mrs Ffolliot and the children he showed a side of his character that
was rigidly concealed from outsiders, the truth being that as a little
boy he had been very hungry for affection. The Redmarley folk loved
him, and his very sincere affection for them was leavened by such
passionate gratitude as they never dreamed of.

His face grew very gentle as he gazed unseeingly into the glass. He
was thinking of loyal little Ger.

The clock on the mantelpiece struck the quarter. He blew out the
candles on his dressing-table and fled.

Few gongs or dinner bells were sounded at the Manor House. Mr Ff