ran over them while they tried to
sleep; that lice, hitherto associated in his mind with the most
revolting type of tramp, out there made no distinction of persons.
They were the common lot of the lowest Tommy and the finest gentleman.
And then the fighting. The noise of the horrid guns. The disgusting
sights of men shattered to bloody bits. The horrible stench. The
terror of having one's face shot half away and being an object of
revolt and horror to all beholders for the rest of life. Death.
Feverishly he ruffled his comely hair. Death. He was surprised that
the contemplation of it did not freeze the blood in his veins. Yes. He
put it clearly before him. He had given his word to Peggy that he
would go and expose himself to Death. Death. What did it mean? He had
been brought up in orthodox Church of England Christianity. His
flaccid mind had never questioned the truth of its dogmas. He
believed, in a general sort of way, that good people went to Heaven
and bad people went to Hell. His conscience was clear. He had never
done any harm to anybody. As far as he knew, he had broken none of the
Ten Commandments. In a technical sense he was a miserable sinner, and
so proclaimed himself once a week. But though, perhaps, he had done
nothing in his life to merit eternal bliss in Paradise, yet, on the
other hand, he had committed no action which would justify a kindly
and just Creator in consigning him to the eternal flames of Hell.
Somehow the thought of Death did not worry him. It faded from his
mind, being far less terrible than life under prospective conditions.
Discomfort, hunger, thirst, cold, fatigue, pain; above all the terror
of his fellows--these were the soul-racking anticipations of this new
life into which it was a matter of honour for him to plunge. And to an
essential gentleman like Doggie a matter of honour was a matter of
life. And so, dressed in his pink pyjamas and violet dressing-gown,
amid the peacock-blue and ivory hangings of his boudoir room, and
stared at by the countless unsympathetic eyes of his little china
dogs, Doggie Trevor passed through his first Gethsemane.

* * * * *

His decision was greeted with joy at the Deanery. Peggy threw her arms
round his neck and gave him the very first real kiss he had ever
received. It revived him considerably. His Aunt Sophia also embraced
him. The Dean shook him warmly by the hand, and talked eloquent
patriotism. Doggie already felt