CHAPTER II

Falcon, on the train from London to Bournemouth, was reading a novel of Meredith's about a British naval officer whose hot-headed quixotry was his ruin ... an old favorite ... yet it failed to hold his attention. This would be his first sight of Adair in nearly a year--since that afternoon on his last leave when they took tea together in the Carlton. What would she think of him? That young doctor at the clearing-station had done a wonderful job with the face. The nose, of course, looked like Cyrano de Bergerac's s…