wrong and hateful even, to let one's mind dwell on the
wonderful, wonderful thing, that you love me! The British Army
retreating--_retreating_--after these glorious years--that is
what burns into me hour after hour! Thank God Desmond didn't
know! And if I feel like this, who am just an ignorant,
inexperienced girl, what must it be for you who are working
there, at the very centre, the news streaming in on you all the
time?--you who know how much there is to fear--but also how
much there is to be certain of--to be confident of--that we
can't know. Our splendid, _splendid_ men! Every day I watch for
the names I know in the death list--and some of them seem to be
always there. The boy--the other sub-lieutenant--who was with
Desmond when he was wounded, was in the list yesterday.
Forest's boy is badly wounded. The old gardener has lost
another son. Perley's boy is "missing," and so is the poor
Pennington boy. They are heroic--the Penningtons--but whenever
I see them I want to cry.... Oh, I can't write this any more.
I have been writing letters of sympathy all day.

'Dearest, you would be astonished if you could see me at this
moment. I am to-day a full blown group leader. Do you know what
that means? I have had a long round among some of our farms
to-day--bargaining with the farmers for the land-girls in my
group, and looking after their billets. Yesterday I spent half
the day in "docking" with six or eight village women to give
them a "send off." I don't believe you know what docking means.
It is pretty hard work, and at night I have a nightmare--of
roots that never come to an end, and won't pull out!

'You were quite right--it _is_ my work. I was born in the
country. I know and love it. The farmers are very nice to
me. They see I don't try to boss them as the Squire's
daughter--that I'm just working as they are. And I can say a
good deal to them about the war, because of Desmond. They all
knew him and loved him. Some of them tell me stories about his
pluck out hunting as a little chap, and though he had been such
a short time out in France he had written to two or three of
them about their sons in the Brookshires. He had a heavenly
disposition--oh, I wish I had!

'At the present moment I am in knee-breeches, gaiters, and
tunic, an