"Was he? Then he was nice?"

"Gnat," said Rowsley from the middle of his third egg. Isabel
rounded him indignantly.

"I'm not gnatting! I'm not asking Val anything about himself, am
I? Val can't possibly mind telling me about another man in
another regiment. You eat your eggs, there's a good boy, before
they get cold.-- Laura says the Dorchesters dined the Winchesters
once when they were in billets. Was that when you and Mr. Hyde
were there?"

"Captain Hyde," Val corrected his young sister. "Yes, we both
graced the festive board. It was too festive for me. We had
Buszard's soup and curried chicken and real cream, and more
champagne than was good for us. But it was not on that occasion
that Hyde was so decent to me. The day I--the day Dale went
down--" Rowsley nodded to him as he raised his glass of beer to
his lips--"thank you, Rose.-- As I was saying, that evening I
ran across Hyde between the lines. The Dorsets and Wintons had
gone over the top together, and he had been left behind with a
bullet in his chest. I was done to the world, but he had some
brandy left and shared it with me. If it had not been for Hyde I
should never have brought Dale in."

"Well, I've never heard that before," said Rowsley to his fourth
egg.

Isabel was silent, and her eyes in the shadow of a momentary