hear anything as to the funeral.

"We'll have champagne," she said suddenly to the parlour-maid, who was
about to offer some red wine. And while the parlour-maid was out of
the room she said to G.J., "There isn't a country in Europe where
champagne is not a symbol, and we must conform."

"A symbol of what?"

"Ah! The unusual."

"And what is there unusual to-day?" he almost asked, but did not
ask. It would, of course, have been utterly monstrous to put such
a question, knowing what he knew. He thought: I'm not a bit nearer
telling her than I was when I came.

After the parlour-maid had poured out the champagne Concepcion picked
up her glass and absently glanced through it and said:

"You know, G.J., I shouldn't be in the least surprised to hear that
Carly was killed out there. I shouldn't, really."

In amazement G.J. ceased to eat.

"You needn't look at me like that," she said. "I'm quite serious. One
may as well face the risks. _He_ does. Of course they're all heroes.
There are millions of heroes. But I do honestly believe that my Carly
would be braver than anyone. By the way, did I ever tell you he was
considered the best shot in Cheshire?"