nobody else's. He
was bound, he was a prisoner, he had no choice, he was performing his
highest duty, he was fulfilling the widest usefulness of which he was
capable ... Besides, supposing he did go insane and shirk the burden,
they would all say that he had been influenced by Lucas's uniform--the
mere sight of the uniform!--like a girl! He could not stand that,
because it would be true. Not that he would ever admit its truth! He
recalled Lucas's tact in refraining from any suggestion, even a jocular
suggestion, that he, George, ought also to be in uniform. Lucas was
always tactful. Be damned to his tact! And the too eager excuses made
by Lois in his behalf also grated on his susceptibility. He had no need
of excuses. The woman was taciturn by nature, and yet she was constantly
saying too much! And did any of the three of them--Lois, Laurencine, and
Lucas--really appreciate the war? They did not. They could not envisage
it. Lucas was wearing uniform solely in obedience to an instinct.

At this point the cycle of his reflections was completed, and began
again. He thought of all the occupied bedrooms.... Thus, in the dark,
warm night the contents of his mind revolved endlessly, with extreme
tedium and extreme distress, and each moment his mood became more
morbid.

An occasional sound of traffic penetrated into the room,--strangely
mournful, a reminder of the immense and ineffable melancholy of a city
which could not wholly lose itself in sleep. The window lightened. He
could descry his wife's portable clock on the night-table. A quarter to
four. Turning over savagely in bed, he muttered: "My night's done for.
And nearly five hours to breakfast. Good God!" The cycle resumed, and
was enlarged.

At intervals he imagined that he dozed; he did doze, if it is possible
while you are dozing to know that you doze. His personality separated
into two personalities, if not more. He was on a vast plain, and yet he
was not there, and the essential point of the scene was that he was not
there. Thousands and tens of thousands of men stood on this plain, which
had no visible boundaries. A roll-call was proceeding. A resounding and
mysterious voice called out names, and at each name a man stepped
briskly from the crowds and saluted and walked away. But there was no
visible person to receive the salute; the voice was bodiless. George
became increasingly apprehensive; he feared a disaster, yet he could not
believe that it would occur. It