Many lives were lost day by day, many deeds of battle
done. But it all seemed as nothing--less than nothing--to those
whose minds were fixed on the clash to come.
Then one evening, early in the second week in March, a telegram
reached Aubrey Mannering at Aldershot. He rushed up to town, and
went first to the War Office, where Chicksands was at work.
Chicksands sprang up to meet him.
'You've heard? I've just got this. I made his Colonel promise to
wire me if--'
He pointed to an open telegram on his table:
"Desmond badly hit in raid last night. Tell his people. Authorities
will probably give permission to come. Well looked after."
The two men stared at each other.
'I have wired to my father,' said Mannering, 'and am now going to
meet him at King's Cross. Can you go and tell Pamela to get
ready--or Margaret? But he'll want Pamela!'
Neither was able to speak for a moment, till Mannering said, 'I'll
bring my father to Margaret's, and then I'll go and see after the
permits.'
He lingered a moment.
Pages:
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400