palls, it is too early to dress for dinner, so one sits yawning
over the fire, longing for a fireside of one's own. At least that
is how it strikes one from the bachelor standpoint, and that is
how it appeared to affect a man who was sitting hunched up in a
big arm-chair in the vestibule of the Ninevah Hotel on this
winter afternoon.

His posture spoke of utter boredom. He sprawled length in his
chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his, eyes
half-closed, various editions of evening papers strewn about the
ground at his feet. He was a tall, well-groomed man, and his
lithe, athletic figure looked very well in its neat uniform.

A pretty little woman who sat at one of the writing desks in the
vestibule glanced at him more once. He was the sort of man that
women look at with interest. He had a long, shrewd, narrow head,
the hair dark and close-cropped, a big, bold, aquiline nose, and
a firm masterful chin, dominated by a determined line of mouth
emphasised by a thin line of moustache. He would have been very
handsome but for his eyes, which, the woman decided as she
glanced at him, were set rather too close together. She thought
she would prefer him as he was now, with his eyes glittering in
the fire-light through their long lashes.

But what was most apparent was the magnificent physical fitness
of the man. His was the frame of the pioneer, the man of the
earth's open spaces and uncharted wilds. He looked as hard as
nails, and the woman murmured to herself, as she went on with her
note, "On leave from the front."