"Henry was killed at Ypres last
year. Guy is out there still. Richard is a Brigadier."
"And you?"
"I am a barrister by profession, but I went out with the first
Inns of Court lot for a little amateur soldiering and lost part of
my foot at Mons. Since then I have been indulging in the
unremunerative and highly monotonous occupation of censoring."
"Monotonous indeed, I should imagine," she agreed. "You spend
your time reading other people's letters, do you not, just to be
sure that there are no communications from the enemy?"
"Precisely," he assented. "We discover ciphers and all sorts of
things."
"What brainy people you must be!"
"We are, most of us."
"Do you do anything else?"
"Well, I've given up censoring for the present," he confided. "I
am going back to my profession."
"As a barrister?"
"Just so. I might add that I do a little hack journalism."
"How modest!" she murmured. "I suppose you write the leading
articles for the Times!"
"For a very young lady," Julian observed impressively, "you have
marvellous insight. How did you guess my secret?"
"I am better at guessing secrets than you are," she retorted a
little insolently.
He was silent for some moments. The faint curve of her lips had
again given him almost a shock.
"Have you a brother?" he asked abruptly.
"No. Why?"
"Because I met some one quite lately--within the last few hours,
as a matter of fact--with a mouth exactly like yours."
"But what a horrible thing!" she exclaimed, drawing out a little
mirror from the bag by her side and gazing into it.
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