The taxi was paid, the two men went upstairs. Aaron was in bed, but he called as Lilly entered the room.
"Hullo!" said Lilly. "Not asleep? Captain Herbertson has come in for a minute."
"Hope I shan't disturb you," said Captain Herbertson, laying down his stick and gloves, and his cap. He was in uniform. He was one of the few surviving officers of the Guards, a man of about forty-five, good-looking, getting rather stout. He settled himself in the chair where Aaron had sat, hitching up his trousers. The gold identity plate, with its gold chain, fell conspicuously over his wrist.
"Been to 'Rosemary,'" he said. "Rotten play, you know—but passes the time awfully well. Oh, I quite enjoyed it."
Lilly offered him Sauterne—the only thing in the house.
"Oh, yes! How awfully nice! Yes, thanks, I shall love it. Can I have it with soda? Thanks! Do you know, I think that's the very best drink in the tropics: sweet white wine, with soda? Yes—well!— Well now, why are you going away?"
"For a change," said Lilly.
"You're quite right, one needs a change now the damned thing is all over. As soon as I get out of khaki I shall be off. Malta! Yes! I've been in Malta several times. I think Valletta is quite enjoyable, particularly in winter, with the opera. Oh—er—how's your wife? All right? Yes!—glad to see her people again. Bound to be— Oh, by the way, I met Jim Bricknell. Sends you a message hoping you'll go down and stay—down at Captain Bingham's place in Surrey, you know. Awfully queer lot down there. Not my sort, no. You won't go down? No, I shouldn't. Not the right sort of people."
Herbertson rattled away, rather spasmodic. He had been through the very front hell of the war—and like every man who had, he had the war at the back of his mind, like an obsession. But in the meantime, he skirmished.
"Yes. I was on guard one day when the Queen gave one of her tea-parties to the blind. Awful affair. But the chil-
