With Sir Henry also he was on excellent terms, and made just as good a listener to the details of country business as to Lady Chicksands' domestic tales.
And yet to Beryl he was in some ways more of a riddle than ever.

He talked curiously little about the war--at least to her.

He had a way of finding out, both at Chicksands and Mannering, men who had lost sons in France, and when he and Beryl took a walk, it seemed to Beryl as though they were constantly followed by friendly furtive looks from old labourers who passed them on the road, and nodded as they went by.

But when the daily war news was being discussed he had a way of sitting quite silent, unless his opinion was definitely asked.

When it was, he would answer, generally in a rather pessimistic spirit, and escape the conversation as soon as he could.
And the one thing that roused him and put him out of temper was the easy complacent talk of people who were sure of speedy victory and talked of 'knock-out' blows.
Then six months later, after the capture of the Messines Ridge, in which he took part, he reappeared, and finding his father, apparently, almost intolerable, and Pamela and Desmond away, he migrated to Chetworth.