way.' He goes on to recall Julian Grenfell's moral courage, his physical bravery, his passionate search for truth, and 'what an ardent love he had for honesty of purpose, and intellectual honesty, and what sacrifices he made for them; and sacrifices of peace of mind abhorrent to most Englishmen.'
All which squares with the casual self-revelations in letters he wrote home while he was on service in India and Africa: 'I hate material books centred on whether people are successful. I like books about artists and philosophers and dreamers, and anybody who is a little off his dot.' 'I agree with what you say about success, but I like the people best who take it as it comes, or doesn't come, and are busy about unpractical and ideal things in their heart of hearts all the time.' 'I am so happy here. I love the Profession of Arms, and I love my fellow officers, and all my dogs and all my horses.' Later, from Flanders, he wrote that he longed to be able to say he liked what he was going through there: 'But it 's beastly. I
