nowhere and seized one like a deadly cramp.

Everything, including my back, was one vast ache punctuated by those
appalling nerve jumps that set every other one in my body tingling.

How I longed to turn on my side, but that was a luxury denied me for
weeks.

My friend Eva had heard the cheerful news when she returned from
Boulogne, where she had been all day, and she and Lowson were allowed to
come and see me for a few minutes.

"I've broken both legs," I stated. "Isn't it the limit? They don't half
hurt." They nodded sympathetically, not daring to give me a hint of the
real state of affairs.

"Captain C. says I'll be able to ride again though," I added, and once
more they nodded.

"I told you what would happen when I lost that charm," I said to Eva.

I asked after "Little Willie," and heard his remains had been towed to
camp, though being a Hun he would of course manage to escape somehow!

I had an adorable V.A.D. to look after me. The best I ever want to have.
She seemed to know exactly what I wanted without being told. I felt
almost too tired to speak, and in any case it's not easy with stitches
in your mouth.

The Padre, not my friend of the entrance hall I was glad to note, came
to see me and I had a Communion Service all to myself, as they thought I
might possibly die in the night.

I dreaded the nights as I'd dreaded nothing before in my life; with
darkness everything seemed to become intensified. Whenever I did manage
to snatch a few moments' sleep the dreadful demon that seemed to lurk
somewhere just out of sight would pop up and jerk my leg again. I would
think to myself "Now I will really catch him next time," and I would lie
waiting in readiness, but just as I thought I was safe, jerk! and my leg
would jump worse than ever. I clenched my fists in rage, and the V.A.D.
came from behind the screen to smooth the pillows for me. I used to lie
and think of all the thousands of men in hospital and perhaps even lying
untended in No-man's-land going through twice as much as I, and wondered
if the world would really be any the better for all this suffering or if
it would be forgotten as soon as the war was over. It seemed to be
rather a waste if it was to be so.

When morning came there were the dressings to be done. At 10 o'clock I
used to try and imagine it was really 11, and all over, but the rattle
of the trolley and terribly cheerful voice of Sister left room for no
illusions on that score. My hands