"What in—what's your intricate meaning?"
"Map, man! He has a hold on her. You see what he is."
"I do not. But I see—I begin to have a glimmer as to—in fact, I take it you have an underhold, anchorite. Go in and win."
"I don't know what you mean," said Gard, dully.
"What are you going to do?"
"It doesn't matter. I am going to throw my furlough and join the army."
"When?"
"To-morrow."
Mavering whistled, and then swore softly.