Both men had the feeling that on this morning a volume in their book of life was ended; and since the volume had been a pleasant one to read, and they did not know whether its successors would sustain its promise, they were looking backward through the leaves before they put it finally away.
"You must stay with us, Jack, when you come back," said Feversham.
Durrance had schooled himself not to wince, and he did not, even at that anticipatory "us." If his left hand tightened upon the thongs of his reins, the sign could not be detected by his friend.
"If I come back," said Durrance.

"You know my creed.

I could never pity a man who died on active service.

I would very much like to come by that end myself." It was a quite simple creed, consistent with the simplicity of the man who uttered it.

It amounted to no more than this: that to die decently was worth a good many years of life.