and women in pretty dresses--but
one mustn't!

_6 May._--Mrs. Guest arrived here to stay yesterday, and her chauffeur,
Mr. Wood, dined here. It is nice to be no longer quite alone. Last night
we were talking about how horrible war is. Mrs. Guest told me of a sight
she had herself seen. Some men, horribly wounded, were being sent away
by rail in a covered waggon ("fourgon"). One man had only his mouth left
in his face. He was raving mad, and raged up and down the van, trampling
on other men's wounded and broken limbs.

Certainly war is a pretty game, and we must go on singing "Tipperary,"
and saying what fun it is. A young friend of mine at home gave me a
pamphlet (price 2d.) written by a spinster friend of hers who had never
left England, proving what a good thing this war was for us all. When I
said I saw another aspect of it, the kind, soothing suggestion was that
I must be a little over-tired.

_7 May._--They say La Panne is to be bombarded to-day. The Queen has
left. Some people fussed a good deal, but if one bothered one's poor
head about every rumour of this sort (mostly "dropped from a German
aeroplane") where would one be?

I was much touched when some people at home clubbed together and sent me
out a little car a short time ago. But, alas! it had not been chosen
with judgment, and is no use. It has been rather a bother to me, and now
it must go back. Mr. Carlile drove it up from Dunkirk, and it broke down
six times, and then had to be left in a ditch while he got another car
to tow it home. Since then it has lain at the station.

I can't get anyone to come and inspect it. The extraordinary habit which
prevails here of saying "No" to every request makes things difficult,
for no privileges can be bought. Sometimes, when I hear people ask for
the salt, I fancy the answer will be, "Certainly not." Two of our own
chauffeurs live quite close to the station: they say they are busy, and
can't look at my car. One smiles, and says: "When you _have_ time I
shall be _so_ grateful, etc." Inwardly one is feeling that if one could
_roar_ just for once it would be a relief.

Sometimes at home I have felt a little embarrassed by the love people
have shown me--as if I have somehow deceived them into thinking I was
nicer than I really am. Out here I have to try to remember that I have a
few friends! In London I couldn't understand it when people praised me
or said kind things.

There is only one straight tip for Belgium-