from　town；　and　he　would　once　more　enjoy　sitting　at　the　foot　of　the　dinner　table　while　Kathleen　sat　at　the　head；　with　the　light　soft　on　her　ivory　shoulders；　behind　flowers　she　had　arranged　in　that　original　way　of　hers；　and　fruit　which　he　had　grown　in　his　hot…houses；　once　more　he　would　take　legitimate　interest　in　the　wine　he　offered　to　his　guestsonce　more　stock　that　Chinese　cabinet　wherein　he　kept　cigars。　　Yesthere　was　a　certain　satisfaction　in　these　days　of　privation；　if　only　from　the　anticipation　they　created。
  The　sprinkling　of　villas　had　become　continuous　on　either　side　of　the　high　road；　and　women　going　out　to　shop；　tradesmen's　boys　delivering　victuals；　young　men　in　khaki；　began　to　abound。　　Now　and　then　a　limping　or　bandaged　form　would　passsome　bit　of　human　wreckage；　and　Mr。　Bosengate　would　think　mechanically：　'Another　of　those　poor　devils！　　Wonder　if　we've　had　his　case　before　us！'
  Running　his　car　into　the　best　hotel　garage　of　the　little　town；　he　made　his　way　leisurely　over　to　the　court。　　It　stood　back　from　the　market…place；　and　was　already　lapped　by　a　sea　of　persons　having；　as　in　the　outer　ring　at　race　meetings；　an　air　of　business　at　which　one　must　not　be　caught　out；　together　with　a　soaked　or　flushed　appearance。　Mr。　Bosengate　could　not　resist　putting　his　handkerchief　to　his　nose。　He　had　carefully　drenched　it　with　lavender　water；　and　to　this　fact　owed；　perhaps；　his　immunity　from　the　post　of　foreman　on　the　jury　for；　say　what　you　will　about　the　English；　they　have　a　deep　instinct　for　affairs。
  He　found　himself　second　in　the　front　row　of　the　jury　box；　and　through　the　odour　of　〃Sanitas〃　gazed　at　the　judge's　face　expressionless　up　there；　for　all　the　world　like　a　bewigged　bust。　　His　fellows　in　the　box　had　that　appearance　of　falling　between　two　classes　characteristic　of　jurymen。　　Mr。　Bosengate　was　not　impressed。　　On　one　side　of　him　the　foreman　sat；　a　prominent　upholsterer；　known　in　the　town　as　〃Gentleman　Fox。〃　　His　dark　and　beautifully　brushed　and　oiled　hair　and　moustache；　his　radiant　linen；　gold　watch　and　chain；　the　white　piping　to　his　waistcoat；　and　a　habit　of　never　saying　〃Sir〃　had　long　marked　him　out　from　commoner　men；　he　undertook　to　bury　people　too；　to　save　them　trouble；　and　was　altogether　superior。　　On　the　other　side　Mr。　Bosengate　had　one　of　those　men；　who；　except　when　they　sit　on　juries；　are　never　seen　without　a　little　brown　bag；　and　the　appearance　of　having　been　interrupted　in　a　drink。　　Pale　and　shiny；　with　large　loose　eyes　shifting　from　side　to　side；　he　had　an　underdone　voice　and　uneasy　flabby　hands。　　Mr。　Bosengate　disliked　sitting　next　to　him。　　Beyond　this　commercial　traveller　sat　a　dark　pale　young　man　with　spectacles；　beyond　him　again；　a　short　old　man　with　grey　moustache；　mutton　chops；　and　innumerable　wrinkles；　and　the　front　row　was　completed　by　a　chemist。　　The　three　immediately　behind；　Mr。　Bosengate　did　not　thoroughly　master；　but　the　three　at　the　end　of　the　second　row　he　learned　in　their　order　of　an　oldish　man　in　a　grey　suit；　given　to　winking；　an　inanimate　person　with　the　mouth　of　a　moustachioed　cod…　fish；　over　whose　long　bald　crown　three　wisps　of　damp　hair　were　carefully　arranged；　and　a　dried；　dapperish；　clean…shorn　man；　whose　mouth　seemed　terrified　lest　it　should　be　surprised　without　a　smile。　Their　first　and　second　verdicts　were　recorded　without　the　necessity　for　withdrawal；　and　Mr。　Bosengate　was　already　sleepy　when　the　third　case　was　called。　　The　sight　of　khaki　revived　his　drooping　attention。　But　what　a　weedy…looking　specimen！　　This　prisoner　had　a　truly　nerveless　pitiable　dejected　air。　　If　he　had　ever　had　a　military　bearing　it　had　shrunk　into　him　during　his　confinement。　　His　ill…　shaped　brown　tunic；　whose　little　brass　buttons　seemed　trying　to　keep　smiling；　struck　Mr。　Bosengate　as　ridiculously　short；　used　though　he　was　to　such　things。　　'Absurd；'　he　thought'Lumbago！　　Just　where　they　ought　to　be　covered！'　　Then　the　officer　and　gentleman　stirred　in　him；　and　he　added　to　himself：　'Still；　there　must　be　some　distinction　made！'　　The　little　soldier's　visage　had　once　perhaps　been　tanned；　but　was　now　the　colour　of　dark　dough；　his　large　brown　eyes　with　white　showing　below　the　iris；　as　so　often　in　the　eyes　of　very　nervous　peoplewandered　from　face　to　face；　of　judge；　counsel；　jury；　and　public。　　There　were　hollows　in　his　cheeks；　his　dark　hair　looked　damp；　around　his　neck　he　wore　a　bandage。　　The　commercial　traveller　on　Mr。　Bosengate's　left　turned；　and　whispered：　〃Felo　de　se！　　My　hat！　what　a　guy！〃　　Mr。　Bosengate　pretended　not　to　hearhe　could　not　bear　that　fellow！and　slowly　wrote　on　a　bit　of　paper：　〃Owen　Lewis。〃　　Welsh！　Well；　he　looked　itnot　at　all　an　English　face。　　Attempted　suicide　not　at　all　an　English　crime！　　Suicide　implied　surrender；　a　putting…up　of　hands　to　Fateto　say　nothing　of　the　religious　aspect　of　the　matter。　　And　suicide　in　khaki　seemed　to　Mr。　Bosengate　particularly　abhorrent；　like　turning　tail　in　face　of　the　enemy；　almost　meriting　the　fate　of　a　deserter。　　He　looked　at　the　prisoner；　trying　not　to　give　way　to　this　prejudice。　　And　the　prisoner　seemed　to　look　at　him；　though　this；　perhaps；　was　fancy。
  The　Counsel　for　the　prosecution；　a　little；　alert；　grey；　decided　man；　above　military　age；　began　detailing　the　circumstances　of　the　crime。　Mr。　Bosengate；　though　not　particularly　sensitive　to　atmosphere；　could　perceive　a　sort　of　current　running　through　the　Court。　　It　was　as　if　jury　and　public　were　thinking　rhythmically　in　obedience　to　the　same　unexpressed　prejudice　of　which　he　himself　was　conscious。　　Even　the　Caesar…like　pale　face　up　there；　presiding；　seemed　in　its　ironic　serenity　responding　to　that　current。
  〃Gentlemen　of　the　jury；　before　I　call　my　evidence；　I　direct　your　attention　to　the　bandage　the　accused　is　still　wearing。　　He　gave　himself　this　wound　with　his　Army　razor；　adding；　if　I　may　say　so；　insult　to　the　injury　he　was　inflicting　on　his　country。　　He　pleads　not　guilty；　and　before　the　magistrates　he　said　that　absence　from　his　wife　was　preying　on　his　mind〃the　advocate's　close　lips　widened〃Well；　gentlemen；　if　such　an　excuse　is　to　weigh　with　us　in　these　days；　I'm　sure　I　don't　know　what's　to　happen　to　the　Empire。〃
  'No；　by　George！'　thought　Mr。　Bosengate。
  The　evidence　of　the　first　witness；　a　room…mate　who　had　caught　the　prisoner's　hand；　and　of　the　sergeant；　who　had　at　once　been　summoned；　was　conclusive　and　he　began　to　cherish　a　hope　that　they　would　get　through　without　withdrawing；　and　he　would　be　home　before　five。　　But　then　a　hitch　occurred。　　The　regimental　doctor　failed　to　respond　when　his　name　was　called；　and　the　judge　having　for　the　first　time　that　day　showed　himself　capable　of　human　emotion；　intimated　that　he　would　adjourn　until　the　morrow。
  Mr。　Bosengate　received　the　announcement　with　equanimity。　　He　would　be　home　even　earlier！　　And　gathering　up　the　sheets　of　paper　he　had　scribbled　on；　he　put　them　in　his　pocket　and　got　up。　　The　would…be　suicide　was　being　taken　out　of　the　courta　shambling　drab　figure　with　shoulders　hunched。　　What　good　were　men　like　that　in　these　days！　What　good！　　The　prisoner　looked　up。　　Mr。　Bosengate　encountered　in　full　the　gaze　of　those　large　brown　eyes；　with　the　white　showing　underneath。　　What　a　suffering；　wretched；　pitiful　face！　　A　man　had　no　business　to　give　you　a　look　like　that！　　The　prisoner　passed　on　down　the　stairs；　and　vanished。　　Mr。　Bosengate　went　out　and　across　the　market　place　to　the　garage　of　the　hotel　where　he　had　left　his　car。　The　sun　shone　fiercely　and　he　thought：　'I　must　do　some　watering　in　the　garden。'　　He　brought　the　car　out；　and　was　about　to　start　the　engine；　when　someone　passing　said：　'Good　evenin'。　　Seedy…lookin'　beggar　that　last　prisoner；　ain't　he？　　We　don't　want　men　of　that　stamp。〃　　It　was　his　neighbour　on　the　jury；　the　commercial　traveller；　in　a　straw　hat；　with　a　little　brown　bag　already　in　his　hand　and　the　froth　of　an　interrupted　drink　on　his　moustache。　　Answering　curtly：　〃Good　evening！〃　and　thinking：　'Nor　of　yours；　my　friend！'　　Mr。　Bosengate　started　the　car　with　unnecessary　clamour。　　But　as　if　brought　back　to　life　by　the　commercial　traveller's　remark；　the　prisoner's　figure　seemed　to　speed　along　too；　turning　up　at　Mr。　Bosengate　his　pitifully　unhappy　eyes。　　Want　of　his　wife！queer　excuse　that　for　trying　to　put　it　out　of　his　power　ever　to　see　her　again！　　Why！　　Half　a　loaf；　even　a　slice；　was　better　than　no　bread。　Not　many　of　that　neurotic　type　in　the　Armythank　Heaven！　　The　lugubrious　figure　vanished；　and　Mr。　Bosengate　pictured　instead　the　form　of　his　own　wife　bending　over　her　〃G3oire　de　Dijon　roses〃　in　the　rosery；　where　she　generally　worked　a　little　before　tea　now　that　they　were　short　of　gardeners。　　He　saw　her；　as　often　he　had　seen　her；　raise　herself　and　stand；　head　to　one　side；　a　gloved　hand　on　her　slender　hip；　gazing　as　it　were　ironically　from　under　drooped　lids　at　buds　which　did　not　come　out　fast　enough。　　And　the　word　'Caline；'　for　he　was　something　of　a　French　scholar；　shot　through　his　mind：　'Kath3een…　Caline！'　If　he　found　her　there　when　he　got　in；　he　would　steal　up　on　the　grass　andah！　but　with　great　care　not　to　crease　her　dress　or　disturb　her　hair！　　'If　only　she　weren't　quite　so　self…contained；'　he　thought；　'It's　like　a　cat　you　can't　get　near；　not　really　near！'
  The　car；　returning　faster　than　it　had　come　down　that　morning；　had　already　passed　the　outskirt　villas；　and　was　breasti