knitted, the war could not stop—­such was the conclusion Noel had come to.  This old lady knitted the epic of acquiescence to the tune of her needles; it was she who kept the war going such a thin old lady!  ’If I were to hold her elbows from behind,’ the girl used to think, ’I believe she’d die.  I expect I ought to; then the war would stop.  And if the war stopped, there’d be love and life again.’  Then the little silvery tune would click itself once more into her brain, and stop her thinking.  In her lap this evening lay a letter from her father.  “My dearest Nollie,

“I am glad to say I have my chaplaincy, and am to start for Egypt very soon.  I should have wished to go to France, but must take what I can get, in view of my age, for they really don’t want us who are getting on, I fear.  It is a great comfort to me to think that Gratian is with you, and no doubt you will all soon be in a house where my little grandson can join you.  I have excellent accounts of him in a letter from your aunt, just received:  My child, you must never again think that my resignation has been due to you.  It is not so.  You know, or perhaps you don’t, that ever since the war broke out, I have chafed over staying at home, my heart has been with our boys out there, and sooner or later it must have come to this, apart from anything else.  Monsieur Lavendie has been round in the evening, twice; he is a nice man, I like him very much, in spite of our differences of view.  He wanted to give me the sketch he made of you in the Park, but what can I do with it now?  And to tell you the truth, I like it no better than the oil painting.  It is not a likeness, as I know you.  I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings, the feelings of an artist are so very easily wounded.  There is one thing I must tell you.  Leila has gone back to South Africa; she came round one evening about ten days ago, to say goodbye.  She was very brave, for I fear it means a great wrench for her.  I hope and pray she may find comfort and tranquillity out there.  And now, my dear, I want you to promise me not to see Captain Fort.  I know that he admires you.  But, apart from the question of his conduct in regard to Leila, he made the saddest impression on me by coming to our house the very day after her departure.  There is something about that which makes me feel he cannot be the sort of man in whom I could feel any confidence.  I don’t suppose for a moment that he is in your thoughts, and yet before going so far from you, I feel I must warn you.  I should rejoice to see you married to a good man; but, though I don’t wish to think hardly of anyone, I cannot believe Captain Fort is that.

“I shall come down to you before I start, which may be in quite a short time now.  My dear love to you and Gracie, and best wishes to George.

“Your ever loving father, “Edward Pierson