“Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied. She opened and read it at once. ” He frowned heavily. ‘I suppose I need not ask to which other soldier you refer. ‘But―but how can he know?’ His soldier’s instinct overtook Gerald and he dropped all his insouciance in a bang, becoming brisk. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. "I yield to fate. ‘Certainly you are imbecile.
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