Nor, when the Great War broke out, and gave him something fresh to do and to think about, were there many sadder and unhappier men. His had been a luckless and unfortunate life, what with his two wives and his one son; his excellent intentions and deplorable achievements; his kindly heart and harsh exteri? his narrow escapes of decoration, recognition and promotion. At cards he was not lucky-and in love he . . . well-his first wife, whom he adored, died after a year of him; and his second ran away after three months of his society. She ran away with Mr. Charles Stayne-Brooker (elsewhere the Herr Doktor Karl Stein-Brcker), the man of all men, whom he particularly and peculiarly loathed. And his son, his only son and heir! The boy was a bitter disappointment to him, turning out badly-a poet, an artist, a musician, a wretched student and "intellectual," a fellow who won prizes and scholarships and suchlike by the hatful, and never carried off, or even tried for, a "pot," in his life. Took after his mother, poor boy, and was the first of the family, since God-knows-when, to grow up a dam' civilian.
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