ndignant virtue.

Can it be that I was jealous of Ursula Dearmer, that innocent girl,
because she saw a shell burst and I didn't? I know this is what was the
matter with Mrs. Torrence the other day. She even seemed to imply that
there was some feminine perfidy in Ursula Dearmer's power of drawing
shells to her. (She, poor dear, can't attract even a bullet within a
mile of her.)[15]

Lying there, in that mosquito-haunted room, I dissolved into a blessed
state, a beautiful, drowsy tenderness to everybody, a drowsy, beautiful
forgiveness of the Commandant. I forgot that he intimated, sternly, that
no ambulance would be at my disposal in the flight from Ghent--I
remember only that he took me into Antwerp yesterday, and that he
couldn't help it if the outer forts _were_ thirty kilometres away, and
I forgive him, beautifully and drowsily.

But when he came running up in great haste to see me, and rushed down
into the kitchens of the Hotel to order soup for me, and into the
chemist's shop in the Place d'Armes to get my medicine, and ran back
again to give it me, before I knew where I was (such is the debilitating
influence of malaria), instead of forgiving him, I found myself, in
abject contrition, actually asking him to forgive _me_.

It was all wrong, of course; but the mosquitoes had bitten me rather
badly.

* * * * *

Mrs. Torrence and Janet McNeil have got to work at last. All afternoon
and all night yesterday they were busy between the Station and the
hospitals removing the wounded from the Antwerp trains.

And Car 1 had no sooner got into the yard of the "Flandria" to rest
after its trip to Antwerp and back than it was ordered out again with
the Commandant and Ursula Dearmer and Mrs. Torrence to meet the last
ambulance train. The chauffeur Tom was nowhere to be seen when the order
came. He was, however, found after much search, in the Park, in the
company of the Cricklewood bus and a whole regiment of Tommies.

One of these ambulance trains had been shelled by the Germans (they
couldn't have been very far from us in our run from Antwerp--it was
their nearness, in fact, that accounted for our prodigious haste!), and
many of the men came in worse wounded than they went out.

We are all tremendously excited over the arrival of the Tommies and the
Cricklewood bus. We can think of nothing else but the relief of Antwerp.

Ursula Dearmer came to see me. She understands that I have forg