"I was thinking about a carpenter," he said.
"Of Nazareth?"
"No, of Berlin. Of Papa Schumacher and that boy Joseph, who was trying so hard to be an English sport—and black-eyed Joanna and the old Mutter."
The Colonel swallowed.
"Let's shake hands, Geddes," he said.
"With all my heart, Colonel," the other answered.
Then the old soldier went up the slope laboriously, his hands upon his knees.
His wife was waiting him on the cliff, a little figure, distinguished even in the dusk, about her shoulders the scarlet cape that had been the gift of a Rajput Princess.
"I pray it will be all right," he said.
"I pray so," the little lady answered.