When they reached their destination Conroy set himself to obey Nurse Blaber.  He had no remembrance of that day, except one streak of blue sea to his left, gorse-bushes to his right, and, before him, a coast-guard’s track marked with white-washed stones that he counted up to the far thousands.  As he returned to the little town he saw Miss Henschil on the beach below the cliffs.  She kneeled at Nurse Blaber’s feet, weeping and pleading.

* * * * *

Twenty-five days later a telegram came to Conroy’s rooms:  ’Notice given.  Waterloo again.  Twenty-fourth.’ That same evening he was wakened by the shudder and the sigh that told him his sentence had gone forth.  Yet he reflected on his pillow that he had, in spite of lapses, snatched something like three weeks of life, which included several rides on a horse before breakfast—­the hour one most craves Najdolene; five consecutive evenings on the river at Hammersmith in a tub where he had well stretched the white arms that passing crews mocked at; a game of rackets at his club; three dinners, one small dance, and one human flirtation with a human woman.  More notable still, he had settled his month’s accounts, only once confusing petty cash with the days of grace allowed him.  Next morning he rode his hired beast in the park victoriously.  He saw Miss Henschil on horse-back near Lancaster Gate, talking to a young man at the railings.

She wheeled and cantered toward him.

‘By Jove!  How well you look!’ he cried, without salutation.  ’I didn’t know you rode.’

‘I used to once,’ she replied.  ‘I’m all soft now.’

They swept off together down the ride.

‘Your beast pulls,’ he said.

‘Wa-ant him to.  Gi-gives me something to think of.  How’ve you been?’ she panted.  ‘I wish chemists’ shops hadn’t red lights.’

‘Have you slipped out and bought some, then?’

’You don’t know Nursey.  Eh, but it’s good to be on a horse again!  This chap cost me two hundred.’

‘Then you’ve been swindled,’ said Conroy.

’I know it, but it’s no odds.  I must go back to Toots and send him away.  He’s neglecting his work for me.’

She swung her heavy-topped animal on his none too sound hocks.  ‘’Sentence come, lad?’

‘Yes.  But I’m not minding it so much this time.’

‘Waterloo, then—­and God help us!’ She thundered back to the little frock-coated figure that waited faithfully near the gate.

Conroy felt the spring sun on his shoulders and trotted home.  That evening he went out with a man in a pair oar, and was rowed to a standstill.  But the other man owned he could not have kept the pace five minutes longer.

* * * * *

He carried his bag all down Number 3 platform at Waterloo, and hove it with one hand into the rack.

‘Well done!’ said Nurse Blaber, in the corridor.  ‘We’ve improved too.’