He himself was for the moment doing some important intelligence work, in close contact with the High Command.

No one outside a very small circle knew better than he what lay in front of England--the fierce death-struggle over a thousand miles of front.

And were men and women to be kissing and marrying while these storm-clouds of war--this rain of blood--were gathering overhead?
Involuntarily he moved further from Pamela.

His fine face with the rather high cheek-bones, strong mouth, and lined brow, seemed to put softness away.

He approached Elizabeth.
'What is the Squire doing about his wood, Miss Bremerton?
The Government's desperately in want of ash!' He spoke almost as one official might speak to another--comrade to comrade.