somewhat different with me. I was sore all over. I
dare say you can understand. But now there are other reasons, much
stronger reasons. The only real happiness I've had in my life has been
as a Tommy. I'm not talking through my hat. The only real friends I've
ever made in my life are Tommies. I've found real things as a Tommy
and I'm not going to start all over again to find them in another
capacity."

"You wouldn't have to start all over again," Oliver objected.

"Oh yes, I should. Don't run away with the idea that I've been turned
by a miracle into a brawny hero. I'm not anything of the sort. To have
to lead men into action would be a holy terror. The old dread of
seeking new paths still acts, you see. I'm the same Doggie that
wouldn't go out to Huaheine with you. Only now I'm a private and I'm
used to it. I love it and I'm not going to change to the end of the
whole gory business. Of course Peggy doesn't like it," he added after
a sip of wine. "But I can't help that. It's a matter of temperament
and conscience--in a way, a matter of honour."

"What has honour got to do with it?" asked Oliver.

"I'll try to explain. It's somehow this way. When I came to my senses
after being chucked for incompetence--that was the worst hell I ever
went through in my life--and I enlisted, I swore that I would stick it
as a Tommy without anybody's sympathy, least of all that of the folks
here. And then I swore I'd make good to myself as a Tommy. I was just
beginning to feel happier when that infernal Boche sniper knocked me
out for a time. So, Peggy or no Peggy, I'm going through with it. I
suppose I'm telling you all this because I should like you to know."

He passed his hand, in the familiar gesture, from back to front of his
short-cropped hair. Oliver smiled at the reminiscence of the old
disturbed Doggie; but he said very gravely:

"I'm glad you've told me, old man. I appreciate it very much. I've
been through the ranks myself and know what it is--the bad and the
good. Many a man has found his soul that way----"

"Good God!" cried Doggie, starting to his feet. "Do you say that too?"

"Who else said it?"

The quick question caused the blood to rush to Doggie's face. Oliver's
keen, half-mocking gaze held him. He cursed himself for an impulsive
idiot. The true answer to the question would be a confession of
Jeanne. The scene in the kitchen of Frelus swam before his eyes. He
dropped into his chair again with a laugh.

"Oh,