obstinate, and as full of prejudices, religious, political and personal as an egg is of meat. And all this time he had been slowly and painfully recalling what his young friend Colonel Merman (the Colonel was young only relatively to the General) had told him about Hector Beaumaroy. The name had struck on his memory the moment the Rector pronounced it, but it had taken him a long while to “place it”       accurately. However, now he had it pat; the conversation in the club came back. He retailed it now to the company at Old Place.     

       A pleasant fellow, Beaumaroy; socially a very agreeable fellow. And as for courage, as brave as you like. Indeed he might have had letters after his name save for the fact that he—the Colonel—would never recommend a man unless his discipline was as good as his leading, and his conduct at the base as praiseworthy as at the front. (Alec Naylor nodded his handsome head in grave approval; his father looked a little discontented, as though he were swallowing unpalatable, though wholesome, food). His whole idea—Beaumaroy’s, that is—was to shield offenders, to prevent the punishment fitting the crime, even to console and countenance the wrongdoer. No sense of discipline, no moral sense, the Colonel had gone as far as that. Impossible to promote or to recommend for reward, almost impossible to keep. Of course, if he had been caught young and put through the mill, it might have been different. “It might”       the Colonel heavily underlined the possibility, but he came from Heaven knew where, after a life spent Heaven knew how. “And he seemed to know it himself,” the Colonel had said, thoughtfully rolling his port round in the glass. “Whenever I wigged him, he offered to go; said he’d chuck his commission and enlist; said he’d be happier in the ranks. But I was weak, I couldn’t bear to do it.”       After thus quoting his friend, the General added: “He was weak, damned weak, and I told him so.”     

       “Of course he ought to have got rid of him,” said Alec.       “Still, sir, there’s nothing, er, disgraceful.”     

       “It seems hardly to have come to that,” the General admitted reluctantly.     

       “It all rather makes me like him,” Gertie affirmed courageously.     

       “I think that, on the whole, we may venture to know him in times of peace,” Mr. Naylor summed up.     

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