obviously much amused and inwardly much annoyed—­but he ceased his scarce-begun pursuit of the hoydenish-queenly girl, for Damocles de Warrenne had a reputation for the cool prosecution of his undertakings and the complete fulfilment of his promises.  Likewise he had a reputation for Herculean strength and uncanny skill.  Yet the gay Captain had been strongly attracted by the beauty and grace of the unspoilt, unsophisticated, budding woman, with her sweet freshness and dignity (so quaintly enhanced by lapses into the slangy, unfettered schoolgirl ...).  Not that he was a marrying man at all, of course....  Yes—­Dam had it weightily on his mind that he might come down from Sandhurst at any time and find Lucille engaged to some other fellow.  Girls did get engaged....  It was the natural and obvious thing for them to do.  She’d get engaged to some brainy clever chap worth a dozen of his own mediocre self....  Of course she liked him dearly as a pal and all that, an ancient crony and chum—­but how should he hope to compete with the brilliant fellers she’d meet as she went about more, and knew them.  She was going to have a season in London next year.  Think of the kind of chaps she’d run across in Town in the season.  Intellectual birds, artists, poets, authors, travellers, distinguished coves, rising statesmen, under-secretaries, soldiers, swells, all sorts.  Not much show for him against that lot!

Gad!  What a rotten look-out!  What a rotten world to be sure!  Fancy losing Lucille!...  Should he put his fortunes to the touch, risk all, and propose to her.  Fellows did these things in such circumstances....  No—­hardly fair to try to catch her like that before she had had at least one season, and knew what was what and who was who....  Hardly the clean potato—­to take advantage of their long intimacy and try to trap her while she was a country mouse.

It was not as though he were clever and could hope for a great career and the power to offer her the position for which she was fitted.  Why, he was nearly bottom of his year at Sandhurst—­not a bit brilliant and brainy.  Suppose she married him in her inexperience, and then met the right sort of intellectual, clever feller too late.  No, it wouldn’t be the straight thing and decent at all, to propose to her now.  How would Grumper view such a step?  What had he to offer her?  What was he?  Just a penniless orphan.  Apart from Grumper’s generosity he owned a single five-pound note in money.  Never won a scholarship or exam-prize in his life.  Mere Public Schools boxing and fencing champion, and best man-at-arms at Sandhurst, with a score or so of pots for running, jumping, sculling, swimming, shooting, boxing, fencing, steeple-chasing and so forth.  His total patrimony encashed would barely pay for his Army outfit.  But for Grumper’s kindness he couldn’t go into the Army at all.  And Grumper, the splendid old chap, couldn’t last very much longer.  Why—­for many a long year he would not earn