In the early summer of next year two old men sat reading their newspapers after breakfast upon the terrace of Broad Place. The elder of the two turned over a sheet.  
"I see Osman Digna's back at Suakin," said he. "There's likely to be some fighting."
 
"Oh," said the other, "he will not do much harm." And he laid down his paper. The quiet English country-side vanished from before his eyes. He saw only the white city by the Red Sea shimmering¹ in the heat, the brown plains about it with their tangle² of halfa grass, and in the distance the hills towards Khor Gwob.
 
"A stuffy³ place Suakin, eh, Sutch?" said General Feversham.
 
"Appallingly⁴ stuffy. I heard of an officer who went down on parade at six o'clock of the morning there, sunstruck in the temples right through a regulation helmet. Yes, a town of dank heat! But I was glad to be there—very glad," he said with some feeling.
 
"Yes," said Feversham, briskly; "ibex, eh?"
 
"No," replied Sutch. "All the ibex had been shot off by the English garrison⁵ for miles round."
 
"No? Something to do, then. That's it?"
 
"Yes, that's it, Feversham. Something to do."
 
And both men busied themselves again over their papers. But in a little while a footman brought to each a small pile of letters. General Feversham ran over his envelopes with a quick eye, selected one letter, and gave a grunt⁶ of satisfaction. He took a pair of spectacles from a case and placed them upon his nose.
 
"From Ramelton?" asked Sutch, dropping his newspaper on to the terrace.
 
"From Ramelton," answered Feversham. "I'll light a cigar first."
 
He laid the letter down on the garden table which stood between his companion and himself, drew a cigar-case from his pocket, and in spite of the impatience⁷ of Lieutenant⁸ Sutch, proceeded to cut and light it with the utmost deliberation. The old man had become an epicure⁹ in this respect. A letter from Ramelton was a luxury to be enjoyed with all the accessories of comfort which could be obtained. He made himself comfortable in his chair, stretched out his legs, and smoked enough of his cigar to assure himself that it was drawing well. Then he took up his letter again and opened it.
 
"From him?" asked Sutch.
 
"No; from her."
 
"Ah!"
 
General Feversham read the letter through slowly, while Lieutenant Sutch tried not to peep at it across the table. When the general had finished he turned back to the first page, and began it again.
 
"Any news?" said Sutch, with a casual air.
 
"They are very pleased with the house now that it's rebuilt."
 
"Anything more?"
 
"Yes. Harry's finished the sixth chapter of his history of the war."
 
"Good!" said Sutch. "You'll see, he'll do that well. He has imagination, he knows the ground, he was present while the war went on. Moreover, he was in the bazaars¹⁰, he saw the under side of it."
 
"Yes. But you and I won't read it, Sutch," said Feversham. "No; I am wrong. You may, for you can give me a good many years."
 
He turned back to his letter and again Sutch asked:—
 
"Anything more?"
 
"Yes. They are coming here in a fortnight."
 
"Good," said Sutch. "I shall stay............