’Hullo!  Hester—­you here?  I came to get some news of Mrs. Sarratt and her husband.  Is he all right?’

Hester repeated the telegram, and added the information that seeing him coming, Mrs. Sarratt had gone in search of her sketching things.

‘Ah!—­I thought if she’d got good news she might like to begin,’ said Farrell.  ’Poor thing—­she’s lucky!  Our casualties these last few days have been awful, and the gain very small.  Men or guns—­that’s our choice just now.  And it will be months before we get the guns.  So practically, there’s no choice.  Somebody ought to be hung!’

He sat down frowning.  But his face soon cleared, and he began to study the point of view.

‘Nothing to be made of it but a picture post-card,’ he declared.  ’However I daresay she’ll want to try it.  They always do—­the beginners.  The more ambitious and impossible the thing, the better.’

‘Why don’t you teach her?’ said Hester, severely.

Farrell laughed.

‘Why I only want to amuse her, poor little soul!’ he said, as he put his easel together.  ‘Why should she take it seriously?’

‘She’s more intelligence than you think.’

’Has she?  What a pity!  There are so many intelligent people in the world, and so few pretty ones,’

He spoke with a flippant self-confidence that annoyed his cousin.  But she knew very well that she was poorly off in the gifts that were required to scourge him.  And there already was the light form of Nelly, on the footbridge over the river.  Farrell looked up and saw her coming.

‘Extraordinary—­the grace of the little thing!’ he said, half to himself, half to Hester.  ‘And she knows nothing about it—­or seems to.’

‘Do you imagine that her husband hasn’t told her?’ Hester’s tone was mocking.

Farrell looked up in wonder.  ’Sarratt? of course he has—­so far as he has eyes to see it.  But he has no idea how remarkable it is.’

‘What?  His wife’s beauty?  Nonsense!’

‘How could he?  It wants a trained eye,’ said Farrell, quite serious.  ‘Hush!—­here she comes.’

Nelly came up breathlessly, laden with her own paraphernalia.  Farrell at once perceived that she was pale and hollow-eyed.  But her expression was radiant.

‘How kind of you to come!’ she said, looking up at him.  ’You know I’ve had good news—­splendid news?’

‘I do indeed.  I came to ask,’ he said gravely.  ’He’s out of it for a bit?’

‘Yes, for three weeks!’

‘So you can take a rest from worrying?’

She nodded brightly, but she was not yet quite mistress of her nerves, and her face quivered.  He turned away, and began to set his palette, while she seated herself.