THE LIEUTENANT
A FORTNIGHT IN FRANCE
MAY 10 TO MAY 24, 1915
I
Gerald Ainsworth was the only son of his parents—and they made something in tins. He had lots of money, as the sons of people who dabble in tins frequently do. He was a prominent member of several dull night-clubs, where he was in the habit of seeing life while other people saw his money. He did nothing and was generally rather bored with the process. In fact, he was a typical product of the twentieth century—with his father’s house in the country full of footmen and ancestors, both types guaranteed by the best references—and his own rooms in London full of clothes and photographs. He was a very fair sample of that dread disease, “the Nut,” and it was not altogether his own fault. Given an income that enabled him to do what he liked, certain that he would never be called on to work for his living, he
