He was wishing passionately, as he stood there, for work, hard, dangerous, gripping work.

He did not know that that was to be the last idle minute of his life.

Hearing a step on the path he turned round to find Semyonov at his side.
"Lovely view, isn't it ?" said Semyonov, watching him.
"Lovely," answered Trenchard.
Semyonov sat down on the little stone seat beneath the Cross and looked up at his rival.

Trenchard looked down at him, hating his square, stolid composure, his thick thighs, his fair beard, his ironical eyes.

"You're a _beastly_ man!" he thought.
"How long are you going to be with us, do you think ?" asked Semyonov.
"Don't know--depends on so many things." "Why don't you go back to England?
They want soldiers." "Wouldn't pass my eyesight." "When are they going to begin doing something on the other Front, do you think ?" "When they're ready, I suppose." "They're very slow.