and detailed history of his one tiger.

Shafto, an eager and enthusiastic listener, exclaimed:

"I say, how splendid! Do you know, Geoff, I'd give ten years of this
life to have a good chance of seeing the world--especially the East?"

"Who knows--you might yet!"

"Pigs might fly! Still I must not grumble. I'm delighted you have had
such a glorious time; when one's friends are enjoying themselves, it's
next best to doing the same oneself. What leave have you got?"

"Only three months and every hour is priceless. This time to-morrow I
shall be blazing away at a grouse drive."

From grouse they fell to talking of shooting, of old scenes, of
rabbiting and ferreting, of cricket matches, schoolfellows and scrapes.

Suddenly Douglas sprang to his feet and pointed to the clock.

"Half-past one, I must run! Good-bye and good luck, old boy," wringing
his friend's hand, "I shan't forget this lunch in a hurry," and he was
gone. This little break and talk of old times and warm friends gave
Shafto something pleasant to think of for many days; it was like a
gleam of sunshine in his grey and joyless life.

Richard Hutton, hack writer and "ghost," sat next to him at table twice
a day, and proved a sympathetic neighbour. Hutton was a clever,
cultured, and--when he pleased--a wholly delightful companion.