he
actual field-work, with one gesture he swept the whole battle-line into
the distance, and you saw it as an infinitely receding tide that left
its wrack strewn on a place of peace where the ambulance wandered at its
will, secure from danger. The whole thing was done with such compelling
and convincing enthusiasm that Ursula Dearmer's mother adopted more and
more the humble attitude of a mere woman who has failed to grasp the
conditions of modern warfare. Ursula Dearmer herself looked more docile
than ever, though a little bored, and very sleepy.

And I remembered how when it was all over Ursula Dearmer's mother
implored me, if there _was_ any danger, to see that Ursula Dearmer was
sent home, and how I promised that whatever happened Ursula Dearmer
would be safe, clinching it with a frightfully sacred inner vow, and
saying to myself at the same time what a terrible nuisance this young
girl is going to be. I saw myself at the moment of parting, standing on
the hearthrug, stiff as a poker with resolution, and saying solemnly,
"I'll keep my word!"

And here was the Commandant informing me with glee that a shell had
fallen and burst at Ursula Dearmer's feet.

He was so pleased, and with such innocent and childlike pleasure, that I
hadn't the heart to tell him that there wasn't much resemblance between
those spaces of naked peace behind the receding battle-line and the
narrow streets of a bombarded village. I only said that I should write
to Ursula Dearmer's mother and ask her to release me from my promise. He
said I would do nothing of the kind. I said I would. And I did. And the
poor Commandant left me, somewhat dashed, and not at all pleased with
me.

It seems that the shell burst, not exactly at Ursula Dearmer's feet, but
ten yards away from her. It came romping down the street with immense
impetus and determination; and it is not said of Ursula Dearmer that she
was much less coy in the encounter. She took to shell-fire "like a duck
to water."

Dr. Bird told us this. Ursula Dearmer herself was modest, and claimed no
sort of intimacy with the shell that waked her up. She was as nice as
possible about it. But all the same, into the whole Corps (that part of
it that had been left behind) there has crept a sneaking envy of her
luck. I feel it myself. And if _I_ feel it, what must Mrs. Torrence and
Janet feel?

Mrs. Lambert, anyhow, has had nothing to complain of so far. Her husband
took her to Alost in his motor-car