But all things, even six-inch howitzers, come to him who waits.
Little more was heard of Randall Holmes.

He corresponded with his mother through a firm of London solicitors, and his address and his doings remained a mystery.

He was alive, he professed robust health, and in reply to Mrs.Holmes's frantically expressed hope that he was adopting no course that might discredit his father's name, he twitted her with intellectual volte-face to the views of Philistia, but at the same time assured her that he was doing nothing which the most self-righteous bourgeois would consider discreditable.
"But it IS discreditable for him to go away like this and not let his own mother know where he is," cried the poor woman.
And of course I agreed with her.

I find it best always to agree with mothers; also with wives.
After her own lapse from what Mrs.Boyce would have called "Spartianism," Betty kept up her brave face.

When Willie Connor's kit came home she told me tearlessly about the heartrending consignment.
Now and then she spoke of him--with a proud look in her eyes.