get over--my having to do
that--to clinch it--because I was afraid."

"My dear, my dear, thousands of men do that every day for the same
reason, only they don't find themselves out; and if they did they
wouldn't care. You're finding yourself out all the time, and killing
yourself with caring."

"Of course I care. Can't you see it proves that I never meant to go at
all?"

"It proves that you knew you'd have to go through hell first and you
were determined that even hell shouldn't keep you back."

"Ronny--that's what it _has_ been. Simply hell. It's been inconceivable.
Nothing--absolutely nothing out there could be as bad. It went on all
yesterday and to-day--till you came."

"I know, Michael. That's why I came."

"To get me out of it?"

"To get you out of it.

"It's all over," she said.

"It may come back--out there."

"It won't. Out there you'll be happy. I saw Nicky on Sunday--the minute
before he was killed, Michael. And he was happy."

"He would be." He was silent for a long time.

"Ronny. Did Nicky know I funked it?"

"Never! He knew you wouldn't keep out. All he minded was your missing
any of it."

She got up and put on her hat. "I must go. It's getting late. Will you
walk up to Morfe with me? I'm sleeping there. In the hotel."

"No, I say--I'm not going to let you turn out for me. _I_'ll sleep at
the hotel."

She smiled at him with a sort of wonder, as if she thought: "Has he
forgotten, so soon?" And he remembered.

"I can't stop here," she said. "That would be more than even _I_ can
bear."

He thought: "She's gone through hell herself, to get me out of it."

May, 1916.
B.E.F., FRANCE.

DEAREST MOTHER AND FATHER,--Yes, "Captain," please. (I can hardly
believe it myself, but it is so.) It was thundering good luck getting
into dear old Nicky's regiment. The whole thing's incredible. But
promotion's nothing. Everybody's getting it like lightning now. You're
no sooner striped than you're starred.

I'm glad I resisted the Adjutant and worked up from the ranks. I own it
was a bit beastly at the time--quite as beastly as Nicky said it would
be; but it was worth while going through with it, especially living in
the trenches as a Tommy. There's nothing like it for making you know
your men. You can tell exactly what's going to bother them, and what
isn't. You've got your finger on the pulse of their morale--not that
it's jumpier than yours; it isn't--and their knowing that they