Luttrell! Harry Luttrell! At this very moment he was changing direction in columns of fours upon the drill ground, happy in the smooth execution of the manoeuvre by his men and untroubled by any thought of the distress of Stella Croyle.

Well, little things must give way to great--women to the exigencies of drill! Meanwhile, Hillyard grew more afraid, and yet more afraid.

He swept down the hill to Cobham, passed between the Hut and the lake, and was through Ripley before the shutters in the shops were down.

The dew was heavy in the air; all the fresh, clean smell of the earth was in that September morning.

And as yet the morning itself was only half awake.