For in that hour I had a prospect as if from a hilltop which made all the present troubles of the road seem of no account.

I saw not only victory after war, but a new and happier world after victory, when I should inherit something of this English peace and wrap myself in it till the end of my days.
Very humbly and quietly, like a man walking through a cathedral, I went down the hill to the Manor lodge, and came to a door in an old red-brick facade, smothered in magnolias which smelt like hot lemons in the June dusk.

The car from the inn had brought on my baggage, and presently I was dressing in a room which looked out on a water-garden.
For the first time for more than a year I put on a starched shirt and a dinner-jacket, and as I dressed I could have sung from pure lightheartedness.

I was in for some arduous job, and sometime that evening in that place I should get my marching orders.

Someone would arrive--perhaps Bullivant--and read me the riddle.