n she drove away
through the mud in her little car, and he went back to his men.

Thus they were swept apart by that tide of war which threatened to
submerge the world.

Drusilla, arriving late at her _baraque_, made tea, and sat by an
infinitesimal stove.

She found herself alone, for the other women were away on various
errands. She uncovered all the glory of her lovely hair, and in her
little mirror surveyed pensively the ragged lock over her left ear.

A man like that, oh, a man like that. What more could a woman
ask--than love like that?

Yet even in the midst of her thought of him, came the feeling that she
was not predestined for happiness. She must go on riding over rough
roads on her errands of mercy. Nothing must interfere with that, not
love or matters of personal preference--nothing.

She was very tired. But there was no time for rest. A half dozen
kilted Highlanders hailed her through the open door and asked for a
song. She gave them "Wee Hoose Amang the Heather--" standing on the
step. It was still raining, and they took with them a picture of a
girl with glorious uncovered hair, and that cut tell-tale lock against
her cheek.

Drusilla watching them go, wondered if she would ever see them again,
with their pert caps, the bare knees of them--the strong swing of their
bodies.

She stretched her arms above her head. "Oh, oh, I'm tired--"

She went in and poured another cup of tea. She left the door open.
Indeed it always stood open that the room might shine its welcome.

Snatching forty winks, she waked to find a woman standing over her--a
tall woman in a blue cloak and bonnet, who held in her hand a dripping
umbrella.

She felt that she still dreamed. "It can't be Hilda Merritt?"

"Yes, it is." Hilda set the umbrella in the wood box. "I knew you
were here."

"Who told you?"

"Dr. McKenzie."

"Oh, you are with him, then?"

"He won't have me. That's why I came to you."

"To me?"

"Yes. I want you to tell him not to--turn me away."

Drusilla showed her bewilderment. "But, surely nothing that I could
say would have more weight with him than your own arguments."

"You are his kind. He'd listen. Things that you say count with him."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Well, I've offended him. And he won't forgive me. Not even for the
sake of the work. And I'm a good nurse, Miss Gray. But he's as hard
as nails. And--and he sent me away."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Drusilla