On his way up the road to call for Alan he met the postman, who in answer to his enquiries handed him a letter from South Africa stamped all over with mysterious official abbreviations. He took it up to his mother curiously.
At lunch he asked her about the news from the war.
“Yes, dear, I had a letter,” she murmured.
“From Lord Saxby, I suppose?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Anything interesting?” Michael persisted.
“Oh, no, it’s only about marches and not being able to wash properly.”
“I thought it might be interesting,” Michael speculated.
“No, dear. It wouldn’t interest you,” said Mrs. Fane in her tone of gentle discouragement.
“I don’t want to be inquisitive,” said Michael resentfully.