negative young man; patriotic, keen in his work, an excellent
soldier, and, as far as I knew, of blameless life; but having met
him two or three times in general company, I had found him a dull
dog, a terribly dull dog,--the last man in the world for Betty
Fairfax.

And then there was Leonard Boyce. I naturally had him in my head,
when I used the words "at last."

"You don't seem very enthusiastic," said Betty.

"You've taken me by surprise," said I. "I'm not young enough to be
familiar with these sudden jerks."

"You thought it was Major Boyce."

"I did, Betty. True, you've said nothing about it to me for ever
so long, and when I have asked you for news of him your answers
have shewed me that all was not well. But you've never told me, or
anyone, that the engagement was broken off."

Her young face was set sternly as she looked into the fire.

"It's not broken off--in the formal sense. Leonard thought fit to
let it dwindle, and it has dwindled until it has perished of
inanition." She flashed round. "I'm not the sort to ask any man
for explanations."

"Boyce went out with the first lot in August," I said. "He has had
seven awful months. Mons and all the rest of it. You must excuse a