Now he was like a lad taking a holiday.
He had always been fond of Beatrice Wyld, and during his furlough he picked up with her again.

She was stronger and better in health.

The two often went long walks together, Arthur taking her arm in soldier's fashion, rather stiffly.

And she came to play the piano whilst he sang.
Then Arthur would unhook his tunic collar.

He grew flushed, his eyes were bright, he sang in a manly tenor.