he was asleep.

(II)

Of course, the thing wore away by midday, and matters had readjusted
themselves. But the effect remained as a kind of bruise below the
surface. He was conscious that it had once been possible for him to
doubt the value of everything; he was aware that there was a certain
mood in which nothing seemed worth while.

It was practically his first experience of the kind, and he did not
understand it. But it did its work; and I date from that day a certain
increased sort of obstinacy that showed itself even more plainly in his
character. One thing or the other must be the effect of such a mood in
which--even though only for an hour or two--all things other than
physical take on themselves an appearance of illusiveness: either the
standard is lowered and these things are treated as slightly doubtful;
or the will sets its teeth and determines to live by them, whether they
are doubtful or not. And the latter I take to be the most utter form of
faith.

* * * * *

About midday the twine round Frank's bundle broke abruptly, and every
several article fell on to the road. He repressed a violent feeling of
irritation, and turned round to pick them up. The Major and Gertie
instinctively made for a gate in the hedge, rested down their bundles
and leaned against it.

Frank gathered the articles--a shirt, a pair of softer shoes, a razor
and brush, a tin of potted meat, a rosary, a small round cracked
looking-glass and a piece of lead piping--and packed them once more
carefully together on the bank. He tested his string, knotted it, drew
it tight, and it broke again. The tin of potted meat--like some small
intelligent animal--ran hastily off the path and dived into a small
drain.

A short cry of mirth broke from the Major, and Gertie smiled.

Frank said nothing at all. He lay down on the road, plunged his arm into
the drain and drew up the potted meat; it had some disagreeable-looking
moist substance adhering to it, which he wiped off on to his sleeve, and
then regretted having done so. Again he packed his things; again he drew
the string tight, and again it snapped.

"Lord! man, don't be so hard on it."

Frank looked up with a kind of patient fury. His instinct was to kick
every single object that lay before him on the path as hard as possible
in every direction.

"Have you any more string?" he said.

"No. Stick the things in your pocket and come on."

Frank made no a