some sort of official position at home now."

"I am at the Ministry of Munitions," he explained.

"Well, tell me about that, then?" she suggested. "Is it as exciting as
fighting?"

He shook his head.

"It has advantages," he admitted, "but I should scarcely say that
excitement figured amongst them."

She looked at him thoughtfully. Lutchester was a little over
thirty-five years of age, tall and of sinewy build. His colouring was
neutral, his complexion inclined to be pale, his mouth straight and
firm, his grey eyes rather deep-set. Without possessing any of the
stereotyped qualifications, he was sufficiently good-looking.

"I wonder you didn't prefer soldiering," she observed.

He smiled for a moment, and Pamela felt unreasonably annoyed at the
twinkle in his eyes.

"I am not a soldier by profession," he said, "but I went out with the
Expeditionary Force and had a year of it. They kept me here, after a
slight wound, to take up my old work again."

"Your old work," she repeated. "I didn't know there was such a thing as
a Ministry of Munitions before the war."