cigarettes. I'll call her while we feel strong.'

She hesitated, but yielded at last, and Nurse accepted the offerings
with a smile.

'_You'll_ be all right,' she said to Miss Henschil. 'But if I were
you'--to Conroy--'I'd take strong exercise.'

When they reached their destination Conroy set himself to obey Nurse
Blaber. He had no remembrance of that day, except one streak of blue sea
to his left, gorse-bushes to his right, and, before him, a coast-guard's
track marked with white-washed stones that he counted up to the far
thousands. As he returned to the little town he saw Miss Henschil on the
beach below the cliffs. She kneeled at Nurse Blaber's feet, weeping
and pleading.

* * * * *

Twenty-five days later a telegram came to Conroy's rooms: '_Notice
given. Waterloo again. Twenty-fourth.'_ That same evening he was wakened
by the shudder and the sigh that told him his sentence had gone forth.
Yet he reflected on his pillow that he had, in spite of lapses, snatched
something like three weeks of life, which included several rides on a
horse before breakfast--the hour one most craves Najdolene; five
consecutive evenings on the river at Hammersmith in a tub where he had
well stretched the white arms that passing crews mocked at; a game of
rackets at his club; three dinners, one small dance, and one human
flirtation with a human woman. More notable still, he had settled his
month's accounts, only once confusing petty cash with the days of grace
allowed him. Next morning he rode his hired beast in the park