"That's the place I first saw Frank when he came." We drove on up through the town, and at the foot of the almost precipitous hill leading up to the ruined church we got out, leaving the dog-cart in charge of the groom.

We climbed the hill slowly, for it was a hot day, Jack uttering reminiscences at intervals (many of which are recorded in these pages) and turned in at the churchyard gate.
"And this was the place," said Jack, "where I said good-by to him." (II) It was on the twenty-fifth of September, a Monday, that Jack sat in the smoking-room, in Norfolk jacket and gaiters, drinking tea as fast as he possibly could.

He had been out on the moors all day, and was as thirsty as the moors could make him, and he had been sensual enough to smoke a cigarette deliberately before beginning tea, in order to bring his thirst to an acute point.
Then, the instant he had finished he snatched for his case again, for this was to be the best cigarette of the whole day, and discovered that his sensuality had overreached itself for once, and that there were none left.

He clutched at the silver box with a sinking heart, half-remembering that he had filled his case with the last of them this morning.

It was a fact, and he knew that there were no others in the house.
This would never do, and he reflected that if he sent a man for some more, he would not get them for at least twenty minutes.