“ ‘Giles, you’ll burst your waistcoat if you get so excited,’ I remarked, casually. ‘And, incidentally, Mrs. Yeverley wants to go home.’
“As I said the name I looked at Trevor, and my last doubt vanished. He gave a sudden start, which Giles, who had immediately torn off to his wife, didn’t see, and proceeded to back into the farthest corner of the tea-tent. But once again old Apson frustrated him. Not for him the endless pauses and waits of first-class cricket; five minutes to roll the pitch and he was leading his team into the field. Trevor had to go from his sanctuary, and there was only one exit from the enclosure in front of the tent.
“They met—Mrs. Giles and Trevor—actually at that exit. By the irony of things, I think it was Giles who caused the meeting. He hurried forward as he saw Trevor going out, and caught him by the arm; dear old chap!—he was cricket mad if ever a man was. And so blissfully unconscious of the other, bigger thing going on right under his nose.
“ ‘Don’t you forget what I said, Trevor,’ he said, earnestly. ‘Any county would be glad to have you. I’m going to talk to Major Chilham about it seriously.’
“And I doubt if Trevor heard a word. Over Giles’s shoulder he was staring at Giles’s wife—and she was staring back at him, while her breast rose and fell in little gasps, and it seemed to me that her lips were trembling. Then it was over; Trevor went out to field—Giles bustled back to his wife. And I, being a hopeless case, went in search of alcohol.”
The Soldier paused to light another cigar.
“He carried out his threat, did Giles with regard to me. Two or three days later I lunched with the General, and it seemed to me that we never got off the subject of Trevor. It wasn’t only his opinion; had not Bimbo Lawrence, the I Z. captain, and one of the shrewdest judges of cricket in England, agreed with him? And so on without cessation about Trevor, the cricketer, while on the opposite side of the table, next to me, sat his wife, who could not get beyond Trevor, the man. Once or twice she glanced at me appealingly, as if to say: ‘For God’s sake, stop him!’—but it was a task beyond my powers. I made one or two abortive attempts, and then I gave it up. The situation was beyond me; one could only let him ramble on and pray for the end of lunch.
“And then he left the cricket and came to personalities.
“ ‘Know anything about him, Dog-face?’ he asked. ‘Up at old Apson’s place he struck me as being a gentleman. Anyway, he’s a darned nice fellow. Wonder why he enlisted?’
“ ‘Oh, Giles, for goodness’ sake, let’s try another topic?’ said his wife, suddenly. ‘We’ve had Sergeant Trevor since lunch began.’