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Rh the sunlight dancing on the lake and all the wildwood scents loose about him, he took them into Tempest's little sitting-room, and shut the door, and sat down in Tempest's chair to read them.

He sat still for very long after they were read, and he was sitting there still when he heard Tempest's voice in the passage.

"What? In there, is he? Very well. Yes. I'll call you when I want you, Bernard."

Dick stood up, thrusting the letters into his pocket. He heard Tempest's step, and both step and voice seemed to bear the eager ring of the old days. Then Tempest swung the door open, and came in swiftly.

"My word, I am glad to see you, old man," he said.

The grip of the hand told it, and the half-break in the voice. Then Tempest stood back, laughing half-nervously.

"They've managed to put some flesh on you again down at Macpherson," he said. "You're not eligible for our 'Dulce et decorum' roll-call yet."

Dick winced. This was touching on the sore place already.

"Macpherson must share her honours," he said. "Young Grahame was offered up on her altar."

"Yes. Sad thing that. Sit down, and let me look at you. Fit? I should think I was. No time to be anything else up here."

He talked cheerfully, with much of the old buoyancy back in his manner and words. But it had a deeper note and a greater gravity at times, and there were some threads of grey in his thick hair. It was Dick who spoke of his lameness because he had seen the contraction of Tempest's forehead when he limped to his chair.

"It will be permanent," he said. "But there is no pain now."

"It won't incapacitate you for duty?"

"No." Dick's smile was peculiar. "I don't expect that to incapacitate me for duty."

For a while longer they talked of other things. Then Tempest said:

"Now tell me about Andree, please."

He was silent while Dick gave such particulars as would