seat in order to listen to a man and woman who were
talking together. I felt that if they were to talk about the war, the
uncanny spell would be broken, the dream would dissolve and I would be
restored to my own fellow creatures. But they spoke about trivial
domestic matters and about a flower show. If they had only mentioned the
word "war" I would have felt relieved by its familiarity, but they did
not mention it once.

And then, in great mental agony, I said to myself: "I _will_ be happy, I
_will_ enjoy my leave." But a number of invisible cobwebs hung between
myself and the world around me. I tried to brush them away, but they
were so impalpable that the movement of my hand did not disturb them at
all.

I gave up the attempt. I would wait until I got home. Then I would talk
and forget myself--only by forgetting myself would I enjoy the present.
Only those who forget themselves are happy. The obsession of self is
the most oppressive of all burdens.

I descended from a 'bus and took a train. A girl sitting opposite me
stared at my blue chevrons and whispered to her fellow passenger: "He's
just come from the front." So I too was regarded as a strange kind of
animal. I got out at my home-station. I showed my leave-warrant to the
ticket collector. He was a benevolent looking old man. He smiled and
wished me good luck. Things began to seem a little less foreign. And
then the thought of being home in a few minutes absorbed me entirely.

I hurried down the street. I knocked at the door, and it opened. The
long yearned-for meeting took place at last.

I threw my pack, equipment and steel helmet contemptuously into a
corner. I took an infantile delight in clean, furnished rooms, in the
white table-cloth, the shining silver, the cut flowers, and the
oil-paintings on the wall. And we talked until late into the night.

It was good to wake up the next morning and to know that the first day
of my leave was still before me. I felt encouraged to face my new
surroundings boldly. I would understand them and identify myself with
them. If the sensation that I was dreaming came upon me again, I would
welcome it and then I would destroy it once and for all. I would enjoy
my leave at any cost. It would become my only reality, and when it was
over it would be a reality which I would take back to the front. I would
hoard it and always think of it out there, so that the war would seem
like a dream, the end of which I could await with pat