ndow. He had shaved his beard again, but it did not make him
younger, for his face was too lined and his eyes too old to change.
When I spoke to him he looked towards Mary and held up a warning finger.

'I go back to England,' he whispered. 'Your little _mysie_ is going to
take care of me till I am settled. We spoke of it yesterday at my
cottage. I will find a lodging and be patient till the war is over. And
you, Dick?'

'Oh, I rejoin my division. Thank God, this job is over. I have an easy
_trund_ now and can turn my attention to straight-forward soldiering. I
don't mind telling you that I'll be glad to think that you and Mary and
Blenkiron are safe at home. What about you, Wake?'

'I go back to my Labour battalion,' he said cheerfully. 'Like you, I
have an easier mind.'

I shook my head. 'We'll see about that. I don't like such sinful waste.
We've had a bit of campaigning together and I know your quality.'

'The battalion's quite good enough for me,' and he relapsed into a
day-old _Temps_.

Mary had suddenly woke, and was sitting upright with her fists in her
eyes like a small child. Her hand flew to her hair, and her eyes ran
over us as if to see that we were all there. As she counted the four of
us she seemed relieved.

'I reckon you feel refreshed, Miss Mary,' said Blenkiron. 'It's good to
think that now we can sleep in peace, all of us. Pretty soon you'll be
in England and spring will be beginning, and please God it'll be the
start of a better world. Our work's over, anyhow.'

'I wonder,' said the girl gravely. 'I don't think there's any discharge
in this war. Dick, have you news of the battle? This was the day.'

'It's begun,' I said, and told them the little I had learned from the
French General. 'I've made a reputation as a prophet, for he thought
the attack was coming in Champagne. It's St Quentin right enough, but I
don't know what has happened. We'll hear in Paris.'

Mary had woke with a startled air as if she remembered her old instinct
that our work would not be finished without a sacrifice, and that
sacrifice the best of us. The notion kept recurring to me with an
uneasy insistence. But soon she appeared to forget her anxiety. That
afternoon as we journeyed through the pleasant land of France she was
in holiday mood, and she forced all our spirits up to her level. It was
calm, bright weather, the long curves of ploughland were beginning to
quicken into green, the catkins made a blue mist on the