himself in the bathroom eagerly peeling off his puttees as the water
splashed into the pale blue bath. How he would wallow in it! He could
feel how the water would caress his body, tepid and soothing.

On the table in the dining-room, green and cool with its view of the
sombre pine wood, stood a long cold drink of what? Cider, perhaps, or
lime-juice and soda, something you could drink and drink and drink. Last
of all--culminating pleasure of heaven--his red bedroom, with the sheets
ready turned down for him, soft and white and alluring. That would have
been heaven.

But this heaven of his was very far away from the hard dusty road and
the eternal poplars! With a painful jolt his thoughts would return to
the realities of life; he would feel dazed and annoyed, and in his heart
of hearts he wanted to cry.

* * * * *

Sir Archibald Murray passed in a car, holding an animated conversation
with a much-beribboned and distinguished-looking French General. He
looked very pleased with himself, as well he might, for the greatest
work of his career had begun the day before with astounding success.

The Subaltern must have felt very tired and dissatisfied that afternoon.
Having exhausted the painful thoughts of home, he began to tell himself
what an awful life Active Service was. It never occurred to him to be
thankful that a youth so young should have the luck to play his part in
such tremendous events. He did not at the time realise that there were
thousands of adventurous souls at home who would have given an arm to
have been where he had been.