er. He was, must be, a narrow, conventional old man; but he had
this power to make her feel ashamed, because she felt that he had faith
in his gods, and was true to them; because she knew he would die sooner
than depart from his creed of conduct. She turned to the window, biting
her lips-angry and despairing. She would never--never get used to her
position; it was no good! And again she had the longing of her dream,
to tuck her face away into that coat, smell the scent of the frieze,
snuggle in, be protected, and forget. 'If I had been that poor lonely
little woman,' she thought, 'and had lost everything, I should have gone
into the water. I should have rushed and jumped. It's only luck that I'm
alive. I won't look at that old man again: then I shan't feel so bad.'

She had bought some chocolate at the station, and nibbled it, gazing
steadily at the fields covered with daisies and the first of the
buttercups and cowslips. The three soldiers were talking now in
carefully lowered voices. The words: "women," "under control," "perfect
plague," came to her, making her ears burn. In the hypersensitive mood
caused by the strain of yesterday, her broken night, and the emotional
meeting with the little woman, she felt as if they were including her
among those "women." 'If we stop, I'll get out,' she thought. But when
the train did stop it was they who got out. She felt the old General's
keen veiled glance sum her up for the last time, and looked full at
him just for a moment. He touched his cap, and said: "Will you have
the window up or down?" and lingered to draw it half-way up.' His
punctiliousness made her feel worse than ever. When the train had
started again she roamed up and down her empty carriage; there was
no more a way out of her position than out of this rolling cushioned
carriage! And then she seemed to hear Fort's voice saying: 'Sit down,
please!' and to feel his fingers clasp her wrist, Oh! he was nice and
comforting; he would never reproach or remind her! And now, probably,
she would never see him again.

The train drew up at last. She did not know where George lodged, and
would have to go to his hospital. She planned to get there at half past
nine, and having eaten a sort of breakfast at the station, went forth
into the town. The seaside was still wrapped in the early glamour which
haunts chalk of a bright morning. But the streets were very much alive.
Here was real business of the war. She passed houses which ha