y. . . .

It was just as the train was slowing down to enter Victoria that he
felt he could contain himself no longer. The larger and fatter of the
two, having concluded an exhaustive harangue on the unprecedented
wealth at present being enjoyed by some of the soldiers' wives in the
neighbourhood--and unmarried ones, too, mark you!--stood up to get his
despatch case.

"It seems a pity, gentlemen, you bother to remain in the country,"
remarked Vane casually. "You must be suffering dreadfully."

Two gentlemen inferred icily that they would like to know what he meant.

"Why not return to your own?" he continued, still more casually.
"Doubtless the Egyptian Expeditionary Force will soon have it swept and
garnished for you."

The train stopped; and Vane got out. He was accompanied to the barrier
by his two late travelling companions, and from their remarks he
gathered that they considered he had insulted them; but it was only
when he arrived at the gate that he stopped and spoke. He spoke at
some length, and the traffic was unavoidably hung up during the
peroration.

"I have listened," said Vane in a clear voice, "to your duologue on the
way up, and if I thought there were many like you in the country I'd
take to drink. As it is, I am hopeful, as I told you, that Jerusalem
will soon be vacant. Good morning. . . ."

And the fact that two soldiers on leave from France standing close by
burst into laughter did not clear the air. . . .

"Jimmy," said Vane half an hour later, throwing himself into a chair in
his club next to an old pal in the smoking-room, "I've just been a
thorough paced bounder; a glorious and wonderful cad. And, Jimmy! I
feel so much the better for it."

Jimmy regarded him sleepily from the depths of his chair. Then his
eyes wandered to the clock, and he sat up with an effort. "Splendid,
dear old top," he remarked. "And since it is now one minute past
twelve, let's have a spot to celebrate your lapse from virtue."

With the conclusion of lunch, the approaching ordeal at Balham began to
loom large on his horizon. In a vain effort to put off the evil hour,
he decided that he would first go round to his rooms in Half Moon
Street. He had kept them on during the war, only opening them up
during his periods of leave. The keys were in the safe possession of
Mrs. Green, who, with her husband, looked after him and the other
occupants of the house generally. As always, the worthy old lady was