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'Pater, I say! it's too fine! You can't frowst all day at this
nonsense. Come out, and let's shoot those roots of Milsom's. He told
me yesterday there were five or six coveys in his big field alone.
Of course everybody's been poaching for all they're worth. But
there's some left. Forest'll get us some sandwiches. He says he'll
come and load for you. His boy and the garden boy'll do for
beaters.'
The Squire stood glumly hesitating, but with his eye on his son.
'Look here,' said Desmond, 'I've only got two days!'
Elizabeth could not help watching the boy--his look at his father,
the physical beauty and perfection of him. The great Victory at the
end of the room with her outstretched wings seemed to be hovering
above him.
'Well, I don't mind,' said the Squire slowly.
Desmond gave a laugh of triumph, twined his arm in that of his
father, and dragged him away.
* * * * *
'DEAR BELOVED DICK--I must just finish this before dinner. Oh,
how I like to think of you at Baghdad, with trees and shade,
and civilized quarters again, after all you've gone through.


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