A military stride;
Years' use of arbitrary will
And right to make or break;
Obedience of men who drill
And willy nilly foot the bill
For authorized mistake;
The comfort of the self-esteem
Deputed power brings--
Are fickler than the shadows seem
Less fruitful than the lotus-dream,
And all of them have wings
When blue eyes, laughing in your own,
Make mockery of rules!

And when those fustian shams have flown
The wise their new allegiance own,
Leaving dead form to fools!


"Friendship's friendship and respect's respect, but duty's what I'm
paid to do!"

The man at the gate dallied to look at his horse's fetlocks. Tess's
strange guest seemed in no hurry either, but her movements were as
swift as knitting-needles. She produced a fountain pen, and of all
unexpected things, a Bank of India note for one thousand rupees--a
new one, crisp and clean. Tess did not see the signature she scrawled
across its back in Persian characters, and the pen was returned to an
inner pocket and the note, folded four times, was palmed in the subtle
hand long before Tom Tripe came striding up the path with jingling spurs.