“I don’t fancy Mr. Broussard is living in luxury himself just now,” said Mrs. Fortescue.  And Mrs. McGillicuddy’s kind heart, being touched with remorse for having given Broussard a pin prick, hastened to say: 

“No, indeed, mum, for McGillicuddy heard Major Harlow readin’ a letter from Mr. Broussard, and he says as how he lives on bananas and has got only two shirts, and his striker has to wash one of ’em out every day for Mr. Broussard to wear the next day.  McGillicuddy says that Major Harlow says that Mr. Broussard says that he don’t mind it a bit, and he’s glad to see real service and proud to command the men that is with him, and they behaves splendid.”

Anita fixed her eyes on Mrs. McGillicuddy’s honest, rubicund face, and listened breathlessly as Mrs. McGillicuddy continued: 

“And Mr. Broussard says the Philippines is one big hell full of little hells, and nobody can get warm there in winter, or cool in summer, but there’s lots of life to be seen there, and he’s a-seein’ it.  And Blizzard is so far away, he can’t sometimes believe there ever was such a place.”

Suddenly, without the least warning, a quick warm gush of tears fell on Anita’s cheeks.  They were so far apart, the jungles and the icy peaks, the palm tree on the burning sands, and the pine tree in the frozen mountains!  Anita walked quickly out of the room.  Mrs. McGillicuddy, soft-hearted as she was hard-handed, looked at Mrs. Fortescue.  The mother’s eyes were moist; Anita was very unlike her, but Mrs. Fortescue remembered a period in her own young life when she, too, felt that the world was empty because of the absence of the Beloved.  And suppose he had never come back?  Mrs. Fortescue, remembering the brimming cup of happiness that had been hers merely because the man she loved came back, felt a little frightened for Anita.  The girl was so precocious, so passionate—­and how difficult and baffling are those women whose loves are all passion!

Anita baffled her mother still more, by appearing an hour later in a gay little gown, and taking the After-Clap from his crib and dancing with him until he absolutely refused to go to sleep.  Then, Anita was in such high spirits at dinner that the Colonel told Mrs. Fortescue in their nightly talk while the Colonel smoked, he believed Anita had completely forgotten Broussard.  At this, Mrs. Fortescue smiled and remained as silent as the Sphinx.

The winter was slipping by, and work and study and play went on in the snow-bound fort, and Colonel Fortescue was congratulating himself upon the wonderfully good report he could make of his command.  There had not been a man missing in the whole month of February.  But one day Lawrence, the gentleman-ranker, was reported missing.

The Colonel had no illusions concerning broken men and said so to Mrs. Fortescue.

“The fellow has deserted—­that’s the way most of the broken men end.  He was in the aviation field yesterday and his going away was not premeditated, as he did not ask for leave.  But something came in the way of temptation, and he couldn’t stand it, and ran away.”