A Case in Camera

story; but it was there that I myself first saw him, and I want to give you my impression of him as I received it, if at the cost of ta

can talk for hours on end about motor-bicycles, and sprinkle their conversation with the jargon of ragtime French they are proud to share with their own privates and sappers and bombardiers. A year or so ago you went into a restaurant that was brown as a beechwood with khaki; you go there to-day and the khaki is gone-yet still haunt

ons as gay with flowers as a row of Thames houseboats. Geraniums and marguerites hung in boxes from the canopies; the sills of the porters' room were a rage of bloom; and lobelia and red bachelor's-buttons and white pebbles from the shore were set i

he got about quite well, though the cliff-path down to the shore was still too much for him. And I may here mention, quite incidentally, the r?le I was apparently cast for in advance. "Auntie Joan" was supposed to take the children down to the shore every

lling Mr. Smith, in these words, that I was "still young at heart." And her pleasant young assassin called me "Sir." I suppose I am entitled to be called "Sir" by these youngsters, but I am far from

wled across that high world of flaming poppies and silky corn. "

ne crow a particularly modest esti

r me, but it's all Joan and Mrs. Esdaile. In fact, I carried all

oan cooingly reassured him. "He gets the morning

o inform you that I'm not," I answered her coldly. "And if the room you s

call it quite large, and I've put you one or two nice books

shone directly in, filling it with gayety and brightness. Not a bit of it. That morning sunlight she so extolled was a greenish and aquarium-like half light thrown up from the steep bit of paddock that compris