her. She saw in the shadow that his face looked grey
and strained. "Major Guthrie?" she began, a little
shyly.

"Yes?" he said rather quickly. "Yes, Mrs. Otway?"

"I only want to ask if you would like me to write
to you regularly with news of Mrs. Guthrie?"

"Will you really? How good of you; I didn't like
to ask you to do that! I know how busy you always
are." But he still lingered, as if loth to go away.
Perhaps he was waiting on in the hope that Rose would
come in.

"Do you know where you will land in France?"
she asked, more to say something than for any real
reason, for she knew very little of France.

"I am not sure," he answered hesitatingly. And
then, "Still, I have a very shrewd idea of where they
are going to fix the British base. I think it will be
Boulogne. But, Mrs. Otway? Perhaps I ought to
tell you again that all I've told you today is private.
I may count on your discretion, may I not?" He
looked at her a little anxiously.

"Of course I won't tell any one," she said quickly.
"You really do mean not any one -- not even the
Dean?"

"Yes," he said. "I really do mean not any one.
In fact I should prefer your not telling even Miss
Rose."

"Oh, let me tell Rose," she said eagerly. "I always
tell her everything. She is far more discreet than I
am!" And this was true.

"Well, tell Miss Rose and no one else," he said. "I

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