Lucille emerged from a French window and came swinging across the terrace.  The young man, his face aglow, radiant, rose to meet her.  It was a fine face—­with that look on it.  Ordinarily it was somewhat marred by a slightly cynical grimness of the mouth and a hint of trouble in the eyes—­a face a little too old for its age.

“Have a game at tennis before tea, young Piggy-wig?” asked Lucille as she linked her arm in his.

“No, young Piggy-wee,” replied Dam.  “Gettin’ old an’ fat.  Joints stiffenin’.  Come an’ sit down and hear the words of wisdom of your old Uncle Dammiculs, the Wise Man of Monksmead.”

“Come off it, Dammy.  Lazy little beast.  Fat little brute,” commented the lady.

As Damocles de Warrenne was six feet two inches high, and twelve stone of iron-hard muscle, the insults fell but lightly upon him.

“I will, though,” she continued.  “I shan’t have the opportunity of hearing many more of your words of wisdom for a time, as you go back on Monday.  And you’ll be the panting prey of a gang of giggling girls at the garden party and dance to-morrow....  Why on earth must we muck up your last week-day with rotten ‘functions’.  You don’t want to dance and you don’t want to garden-part in the least.”

“Nit,” interrupted Dam.

" ...  Grumper means it most kindly but ... we want you to ourselves the last day or two ... anyhow....”

“D’you want me to yourself, Piggy-wee?” asked Dam, trying to speak lightly and off-handedly.

“Of course I do, you Ass.  Shan’t see you for centuries and months.  Nothing to do but weep salt tears till Christmas.  Go into a decline or a red nose very likely.  Mind you write to me twice a week at the very least,” replied Lucille, and added:—­

“Bet you that silly cat Amelia Harringport is in your pocket all to-morrow afternoon and evening. All the Harringport crowd are coming from Folkestone, you know.  If you run the clock-golf she’ll adore clock-golf, and if you play tennis she’ll adore tennis....  Can’t think what she sees in you....”

“Don’t be cattish, Lusilly,” urged the young man. “’Melier’s all right.  It’s you she comes to see, of course.”

To which, it is regrettable to have to relate, Lucille replied “Rodents”.

Talk languished between the young people.  Both seemed unwontedly ill at ease and nervous.

“D’you get long between leaving Sandhurst and joining the Corps you’re going to distinguish, Dammy?” asked the girl after an uneasy and pregnant silence, during which they had furtively watched each other, and smiled a little uncomfortably and consciously when they had caught each other doing so.

“Dunno.  Sure not to.  It’s a rotten world,” replied Dam gloomily.  “I expect I shall come back and find you—­”

“Of course you’ll come back and find me!  What do you mean, Dam?” said the girl.  She flushed curiously as she interrupted him.  Before he could reply she continued:—­