"Hullo, what are you two doing there? That tumble-down old place isn't very safe, you know. It's falling to pieces. Probably break up about your ears. Afraid you'll get dirty there, Elizabeth."

"Oh, that's all right. Captain Hastings has sacrificed a pocket handkerchief in the good cause of keeping my dress clean."

The Colonel murmured vaguely:

"Oh, really? Oh well, that's all right."

He stood there pulling at his lip and we got up and joined him. His mind seemed far away this evening. He roused himself to say:

"Been trying to get some of these cursed wood pigeons. Do a lot of damage, you know."

"You're a very fine shot, I hear," I told him.

"Eh? Who told you that? Oh, Boyd Carrington. Used to be - used to be. Bit rusty nowadays. Age will tell."

"Eyesight," I suggested.

He negatived the suggestion immediately.

"Nonsense. Eyesight's as good as ever it was. That is - have to wear glasses for reading, of course. But far sight's all right."

He repeated a minute or two later:

"Yes - all right. Not that it matters..."

His voice tailed off into an absent-minded mutter.

Miss Cole said, looking round:

"What a beautiful evening it is."

She was quite right. The sun was drawing to the west and the light was a rich golden, bringing out the deeper shades of green in the trees in a deep, glowing effect. It Was an evening, still and calm, and very English, such as one remembers when in far-off tropical countries. I said as much.

Colonel Luttrell agreed eagerly. Yes, yes, often used to think of evenings like this

- out in India, you know. Makes you look forward to retiring and settling down - what?"

I nodded. He went on, his voice changing:

"Yes, settling down - coming home - nothing's ever quite what you picture it - no

- no."

I thought that that was probably particularly true in his case. He had not pictured himself running a guest house, trying to make it pay, with a nagging wife forever snapping at him and complaining.

We walked slowly towards the house. Norton and Boyd Carrington were sitting on the verandah and the Colonel and I joined them while Miss Cole went on into the house.

We chatted for a few minutes. Colonel Luttrell seemed to have brightened up. He made a joke or two and seemed far more cheerful and wide-awake than usual.

"Been a hot day," said Norton. "I'm thirsty."

"Have a drink, you fellows. On the house, what?" The Colonel sounded eager and happy.

We thanked him and accepted. He got up and went in.

The part of the terrace where we were sitting was just outside the dining-room window, and that window was open.

We heard the Colonel inside - opening a cupboard, then heard the squeak of a corkscrew and the subdued pop as the cork of the bottle came out. And then, sharp and high came the unofficial voice of Mrs. Colonel Luttrell!