Now the picture
was torn aside and a new one thrust into its place, and the new one
seemed garish to his weary nerves.
"Weldon! Have you risen from the grave?"
He turned sharply, to find himself face to face with the captain of
his former troop.
"Merely from hospital," he answered. "I have been lying up for
repairs."
The other man nodded.
"I know; and thereby adding to the glamour which surrounds a man
elect for the V. C. Are you all right again?"
Weldon's voice hardened to match the strain he was putting upon his
control.
"Absolutely. I am sailing for home, next week."
"And taking a farewell view of the place, before you go? Then come
to meet the prettiest girl in Cape Town."
For an instant, Weldon hesitated. Then, reassured by the direction
taken by his guide, he followed, while the strains of the waltz came
ever more distinctly to his ears. His companion craned his neck to
reconnoitre.
"She is dancing now; but she will be through in a moment. There," he
added, as the music rose to a crashing finale; "that is over, and,
by George, here she is! Miss Dent, may I introduce another war-worn
veteran, Mr. Weldon?"
The shock came so suddenly that neither of them had an opportunity
to prepare to resist it.
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