[Illustration: _G.O.C._ "WELL, MY MAN, WHAT ARE YOU IN CIVILIAN LIFE?"

_Dejected Private_. "PROFESSOR OF GREEK HISTORY AT ONE OF THE
UNIVERSITIES, SIR."]

* * * * *

THE MINIATURE.

When I left her, Celia had two photographs, a British warm and an
accidental coffee-stain, by which to remember me. The coffee-stain was
the purest accident. By her manner of receiving it, Celia gave me the
impression that she thought I had done it on purpose, but it was not
so. The coffee-cup slipped-in-me-'and-mum, after which the law of
gravity stepped in, thus robbing what would have been a polite deed of
most of its gallantry. However, I explained all that at the time. The
fact remains that, in whatever way you look at it, I had left my mark.
Celia was not likely to forget me.

But she was determined to make sure. No doubt mine is an elusive
personality; take the mind off it for one moment and it is gone. So I
was to be perpetuated in a miniature.

"Can it be done without a sitting?" I asked doubtfully. I was going
away on the morrow.

"Oh, yes. It can be done from the photographs easily. Of course I
shall have to explain your complexion and so on."