“I am sorry,” she said. “I shall not willingly allow you to kiss me, but of course you are my husband — I am in your power.”
“By Jove,” said Winn, unexpectedly, “what a little cat you are!”
They were the last words he ever said to her.
CHAPTER XXX
For a time he could do nothing but think of his luck — it was astounding how obstacles had been swept aside for him.
The best he had expected was that in the hurry of things he might get back to India without a medical examination, in the hope that his regiment would be used later. But his work at the Staff College had brought him into notice, a man conveniently died, and Winn appeared at the right moment.
Within twenty-four hours of his visit to the War Office, he was attached for staff duty to a British division.
Then work closed over his head. He became a railway time-table, a lost-luggage office, a registrar, and a store commissioner.
He had the duties of a special Providence thrust upon him, with all the disadvantages of being readily held accountable, so skilfully evaded by the higher powers.
Junior officers flew to him for orders as belated ladies fly to their pin cushions for pins.