Luke Sparrow, erect and vigorous, in the khaki uniform which had begun to mean so much to England, stood on his study hearth-rug, giving final instructions to his old servant.

“I’m in luck, Thomas. So early in the day; but I lost no time, and it’s France for me to-morrow; and, please God, that means Belgium, and in the thick of it. You will look after things, till I get back. Don’t let Mary fret. Give her a cheerful time.

“If I don’t return, my things will come back to you. My will is in that drawer. Everything will belong to you two faithful souls. That is what her ladyship would wish.... That’s all right, Thomas. Yes, I know all about it. Goodbye, old friend....

“And now send Mary to me. I must have one dear woman to hug me goodbye before I go!”