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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14579-0.txt b/14579-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4005806 --- /dev/null +++ b/14579-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12006 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14579 *** + + SIMON CALLED PETER + + BY ROBERT KEABLE + + AUTHOR OF "THE DRIFT OF PINIONS," "STANDING BY," ETC. + + 1921 + + + + +THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO JULIE + +She never lived, maybe, but it is truer to say that she never dies. Nor +shall she ever die. One may believe in God, though He is hard to find, +and in Women, though such as Julie are far to seek. + + + + +THE AUTHOR TO THE READER + + +The glamour of no other evil thing is stronger than the glamour of war. +It would seem as if the cup of the world's sorrow as a result of war had +been filled to the brim again and again, but still a new generation has +always been found to forget. A new generation has always been found to +talk of the heroisms that the divine in us can manifest in the mouth of +hell and to forget that so great a miracle does not justify our creation +of the circumstance. + +Yet if ever war came near to its final condemnation it was in 1914-1918. +Our comrades died bravely, and we had been willing to die, to put an end +to it once and for all. Indeed war-weary men heard the noise of conflict +die away on November 11, 1918, thinking that that end had been attained. +It is not yet three years ago; a little time, but long enough for +betrayal. + +Long enough, too, for the making of many books about it all, wherein has +been recorded such heroisms as might make God proud and such horror as +might make the Devil weep. Yet has the truth been told, after all? Has +the world realized that in a modern war a nation but moves in uniform to +perform its ordinary tasks in a new intoxicating atmosphere? Now and +again a small percentage of the whole is flung into the pit, and, for +them, where one in ten was heavy slaughter, now one in ten is reasonable +escape. The rest, for the greater part of the time, live an unnatural +life, death near enough to make them reckless and far enough to make them +gay. Commonly men and women more or less restrain themselves because of +to-morrow; but what if there be no to-morrow? What if the dice are heavily +weighted against it? And what of their already jeoparded restraint when +the crisis has thrown the conventions to the winds and there is little +to lighten the end of the day? + +Thus to lift the veil on life behind the lines in time of war is a +thankless task. The stay-at-homes will not believe, and particularly +they whose smug respectability and conventional religion has been put +to no such fiery trial. Moreover they will do more than disbelieve; they +will say that the story is not fit to be told. Nor is it. But then it +should never have been lived. That very respectability, that very +conventionality, that very contented backboneless religion made it +possible--all but made it necessary. For it was those things which +allowed the world to drift into the war, and what the war was nine days +out of ten ought to be thrust under the eyes of those who will not +believe. It is a small thing that men die in battle, for a man has but +one life to live and it is good to give it for one's friends; but it is +such an evil that it has no like, this drifting of a world into a hell to +which men's souls are driven like red maple leaves before the autumn +wind. + +The old-fashioned pious books made hell stink of brimstone and painted +the Devil hideous. But Satan is not such a fool. Champagne and Martinis +do not taste like Gregory powder, nor was St. Anthony tempted by +shrivelled hags. Paganism can be gay, and passion look like love. +Moreover, still more truly, Christ could see the potentiality of virtue +in Mary Magdalene and of strength in Simon called Peter. The conventional +religious world does not. + +A curious feature, too, of that strange life was its lack of +consecutiveness. It was like the pages of _La Vie Parisienne_. The friend +of to-day was gone for ever to-morrow. A man arrived, weary and dirty and +craving for excitement, in some unknown town; in half an hour he had +stepped into the gay glitter of wine and women's smiles; in half a dozen +he had been whirled away. The days lingered and yet flew; the pages were +twirled ever more dazzlingly; only at the end men saw in a blinding flash +whither they had been led. + +These things, then, are set out in this book. This is its atmosphere. +They are truly set out. They are not white-washed; still less are they +pictured as men might have seen them in more sober moments, as the +Puritan world would see them now. Nor does the book set forth the +author's judgment, for that is not his idea of a novel. It sets out +what Peter and Julie saw and did, and what it appeared to them to be +while they did it. Very probably, then, the average reader had better +read no further than this.... + +But at any rate let him not read further than is written. The last page +has been left blank. It has been left blank for a reason, because the +curtain falls not on the conclusion of the lives of those who have +stepped upon the boards, but at a psychological moment in their story. +The Lord has turned to look upon Peter, and Julie has seen that He has +looked. It is enough; they were happy who, going down into the Valley of +the Shadow of Death, saw a vision of God's love even there. For the +Christ of Calvary moved to His Cross again but a few short years ago; and +it is enough in one book to tell how Simon failed to follow, but how +Jesus turned to look on Peter. + +R.K. + + + + +PART I + + Ah! is Thy love indeed +A weed, albeit an amaranthine weed, +Suffering no flowers except its own to mount? + Ah! must-- + Designer infinite!-- +Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it? + +FRANCIS THOMPSON. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +London lay as if washed with water-colour that Sunday morning, light blue +sky and pale dancing sunlight wooing the begrimed stones of Westminster +like a young girl with an old lover. The empty streets, clean-swept, were +bathed in the light, and appeared to be transformed from the streets of +week-day life. Yet the half of Londoners lay late abed, perhaps because +six mornings a week of reality made them care little for one of magic. + +Peter, nevertheless, saw little of this beauty. He walked swiftly as +always, and he looked about him, but he noticed none of these things. +True, a fluttering sheet of newspaper headlines impaled on the railings +of St. Margaret's held him for a second, but that was because its message +was the one that rang continually in his head, and had nothing at all to +do with the beauty of things that he passed by. + +He was a perfectly dressed young man, in a frock coat and silk hat of the +London clergyman, and he was on his way to preach at St. John's at the +morning service. Walking always helped him to prepare his sermons, and +this sermon would ordinarily have struck him as one well worth preparing. +The pulpit of St. John's marked a rung up in the ladder for him. That +great fashionable church of mid-Victorian faith and manners held a +congregation on Sunday mornings for which the Rector catered with care. +It said a good deal for Peter that he had been invited to preach. He +ought to have had his determined scheme plain before him, and a few +sentences, carefully polished, at hand for the beginning and the end. He +could trust himself in the middle, and was perfectly conscious of that. +He frankly liked preaching, liked it not merely as an actor loves to sway +his audience, but liked it because he always knew what to say, and was +really keen that people should see his argument. And yet this morning, +when he should have been prepared for the best he could do, he was not +prepared at all. + +Strictly, that is not quite true, for he had a text, and the text +absolutely focused his thought. But it was too big for him. Like some at +least in England that day, he was conscious of staring down a lane of +tragedy that appalled him. Fragments and sentences came and went in his +head. He groped for words, mentally, as he walked. Over and over again +he repeated his text. It amazed him by its simplicity; it horrified him +by its depth. + +Hilda was waiting at the pillar-box as she had said she would be, and +little as she could guess it, she irritated him. He did not want her just +then. He could hardly tell why, except that, somehow, she ran counter to +his thoughts altogether that morning. She seemed, even in her excellent +brown costume that fitted her fine figure so well, out of place, and out +of place for the first time. + +They were not openly engaged, these two, but there was an understanding +between them, and an understanding that her family was slowly +recognising. Mr. Lessing, at first, would never have accepted an +engagement, for he had other ideas for his daughter of the big house in +Park Lane. The rich city merchant, church-warden at St. John's, important +in his party, and a person of distinction when at his club, would have +been seriously annoyed that his daughter should consider a marriage with +a curate whose gifts had not yet made him an income. But he recognised +that the young man might go far. "Young Graham?" he would say, "Yes, a +clever young fellow, with quite remarkable gifts, sir. Bishop thinks a +lot of him, I believe. Preaches extraordinarily well. The Rector said he +would ask him to St. John's one morning...." + +Peter Graham's parish ran down to the river, and included slums in which +some of the ladies of St. John's (whose congregation had seen to it that +in their immediate neighbourhood there were no such things) were +interested. So the two had met. She had found him admirable and likeable; +he found her highly respectable and seemingly unapproachable. From which +cold elements much more may come than one might suppose. + +At any rate, now, Mrs. Lessing said nothing when Hilda went to post a +letter in London on Sunday morning before breakfast. She would have +mildly remonstrated if the girl had gone to meet the young man. The which +was England once, and may, despite the Kaiser, be England yet once more. + +"I was nearly going," she declared. "You're a bit late." + +"I know," he replied; "I couldn't help it. The early service took longer +than usual. But I'm glad to see you before breakfast. Tell me, what does +your father think of it all?" + +The girl gave a little shrug of the shoulders, "Oh, he says war is +impossible. The credit system makes it impossible. But if he really +thinks so, I don't see why he should say it so often and so violently. +Oh, Peter, what do you think?" + +The young man unconsciously quickened his pace. "I think it is certain," +he said. "We must come in. I should say, more likely, the credit system +makes it impossible for us to keep out. I mean, half Europe can't go to +war and we sit still. Not in these days. And if it comes--Good Lord, +Hilda, do you know what it means? I can't see the end, only it looks to +me like being a fearful smash.... Oh, we shall pull through, but nobody +seems to see that our ordinary life will come down like a pack of cards. +And what will the poor do? And can't you see the masses of poor souls +that will be thrown into the vortex like, like...." He broke off. "I +can't find words," he said, gesticulating nervously. "It's colossal." + +"Peter, you're going to preach about it: I can see you are. But do take +care what you say. I should hate father to be upset. He's so--oh, I don't +know!--_British_, I think. He hates to be thrown out, you know, and he +won't think all that possible." + +She glanced up (the least little bit that she had to) anxiously. Graham +smiled. "I know Mr. Lessing," he said. "But, Hilda, he's _got_ to be +moved. Why, he may be in khaki yet!" + +"Oh, Peter, don't be silly. Why, father's fifty, and not exactly in +training," she laughed. Then, seriously: "But for goodness' sake don't +say such things--for my sake, anyway." + +Peter regarded her gravely, and held open the gate. "I'll remember," he +said, "but more unlikely things may happen than that." + +They went up the path together, and Hilda slipped a key into the door. As +it opened, a thought seemed to strike her for the first time. "What will +_you_ do?" she demanded suddenly. + +Mrs. Lessing was just going into the dining-room, and Peter had no +need to reply. "Good-morning, Mr. Graham," she said, coming forward +graciously. "I wondered if Hilda would meet you: she wanted to post +a letter. Come in. You must be hungry after your walk." + +A manservant held the door open, and they all went in. That magic sun +shone on the silver of the breakfast-table, and lit up the otherwise +heavy room. Mrs. Lessing swung the cover of a silver dish and the eggs +slipped in to boil. She touched a button on the table and sat down, just +as Mr. Lessing came rather ponderously forward with a folded newspaper in +his hand. + +"Morning, Graham," he said. "Morning, Hilda. Been out, eh? Well, well, +lovely morning out; makes one feel ten years younger. But what do you +think of all this, Graham?" waving the paper as he spoke. + +Peter just caught the portentous headline-- + +"GERMANY DECLARES WAR ON RUSSIA," + +as he pulled up to the table, but he did not need to see it. There was +really no news: only that. "It is certain, I think, sir," he said. + +"Oh, certain, certain," said Lessing, seating himself. "The telegrams say +they are over the frontier of Luxembourg and massing against France. Grey +can't stop 'em now, but the world won't stand it--can't stand it. There +can't be a long war. Probably it's all a big bluff again; they know in +Berlin that business can't stand a war, or at any rate a long war. And we +needn't come in. In the City, yesterday, they said the Government could +do more by standing out. We're not pledged. Anderson told me Asquith said +so distinctly. And, thank God, the Fleet's ready! It's madness, madness, +and we must keep our heads. That's what I say, anyway." + +Graham cracked an egg mechanically. His sermon was coming back to him. +He saw a congregation of Lessings, and more clearly than ever the other +things. "What about Belgium?" he queried. "Surely our honour is engaged +there?" + +Mr. Lessing pulled up his napkin, visibly perturbed. "Yes, but what can +we do?" he demanded. "What is the good of flinging a handful of troops +overseas, even if we can? It's incredible--English troops in Flanders in +this century. In my opinion--in my opinion, I say--we should do better to +hold ourselves in readiness. Germany would never really dare antagonise +us. They know what it involves. Why, there's hundreds of millions of +pounds at stake. Grey has only to be firm, and things must come right. +Must--absolutely must." + +"Annie said, this morning, that she heard everyone in the +streets last night say we must fight, father," put in Hilda. + +"Pooh!" exclaimed the city personage, touched now on the raw. "What do +the fools know about it? I suppose the _Daily Mail_ will scream, but, +thank God, this country has not quite gone to the dogs yet. The people, +indeed! The mass of the country is solid for sense and business, and +trusts the Government. Of course, the Tory press will make the whole +question a party lever if it can, but it can't. What! Are we going to be +pushed into war by a mob and a few journalists? Why, Labour even will be +dead against it. Come, Graham, you ought to know something about that. +More in your line than mine--don't you think so?" + +"You really ought not to let the maids talk so," said Mrs. Lessing +gently. + +Peter glanced at her with a curiously hopeless feeling, and looked slowly +round the room until his eyes rested on Mr. Lessing's portrait over the +mantelshelf, presented by the congregation of St. John's on some occasion +two years before. From the portrait he turned to the gentleman, but it +was not necessary for him to speak. Mr. Lessing was saying something to +the man--probably ordering the car. He glanced across at Hilda, who had +made some reply to her mother and was toying with a spoon. He thought he +had never seen her look more handsome and.... He could not find the word: +thought of "solid," and then smiled at the thought. It did not fit in +with the sunlight on her hair. + +"Well, well," said Mr. Lessing; "we ought to make a move. It won't do for +either of us to be late, Mr. Preacher." + +The congregation of St. John's assembled on a Sunday morning as befitted +its importance and dignity. Families arrived, or arrived by two or three +representatives, and proceeded with due solemnity to their private pews. +No one, of course, exchanged greetings on the way up the church, but +every lady became aware, not only of the other ladies present, but of +what each wore. A sidesman, with an air of portentous gravity, as one +who, in opening doors, performed an office more on behalf of the Deity +than the worshippers, was usually at hand to usher the party in. Once +there, there was some stir of orderly bustle: kneelers were distributed +according to requirements, books sorted out after the solemn unlocking of +the little box that contained them, sticks and hats safely stowed away. +These duties performed, paterfamilias cast one penetrating glance round +the church, and leaned gracefully forward with a kind of circular motion. +Having suitably addressed Almighty God (it is to be supposed), he would +lean back, adjust his trousers, possibly place an elbow on the pew-door, +and contemplate with a fixed and determined gaze the distant altar. + +Peter, of course, wound in to solemn music with the procession of choir +boys and men, and, accorded the honour of a beadle with a silver mace, +since he was to preach, was finally installed in a suitably cushioned +seat within the altar-rails. He knelt to pray, but it was an effort to +formulate anything. He was intensely conscious that morning that a +meaning hitherto unfelt and unguessed lay behind his world, and even +behind all this pomp and ceremony that he knew so well. Rising, of +course, when the senior curate began to intone the opening sentence in +a manner which one felt was worthy even of St. John's, he allowed himself +to study his surroundings as never before. + +The church had, indeed, an air of great beauty in the morning sunlight. +The Renaissance galleries and woodwork, mellowed by time, were dusted +by that soft warm glow, and the somewhat sparse congregation, in its +magnificently isolated groups, was humanised by it too. The stone of the +chancel, flecked with colour, had a quiet dignity, and even the altar, +ecclesiastically ludicrous, had a grace of its own. There was to be a +celebration after Matins. The historic gold plate was therefore arranged +on the retable with something of the effect of show pieces at Mappin and +Webb's. Peter noticed three flagons, and between them two patens of great +size. A smaller pair for use stood on the credence-table. The gold +chalice and paten, veiled, stood on the altar-table itself, and above +them, behind, rose the cross and two vases of hot-house lilies. +Suggesting one of the great shields of beaten gold that King Solomon had +made for the Temple of Jerusalem, an alms-dish stood on edge, and leant +against the retable to the right of the veiled chalice. Peter found +himself marvelling at its size, but was recalled to his position when +it became necessary to kneel for the Confession. + +The service followed its accustomed course, and throughout the whole of +it Peter was conscious of his chaotic sermon. He glanced at his notes +occasionally, and then put them resolutely away, well aware that they +would be all but useless to him. Either he would, at the last, be able to +formulate the thoughts that raced through his head, or else he could do +no more than occupy the pulpit for the conventional twenty minutes with a +conventional sermon. At times he half thought he would follow this easier +course, but then the great letters of the newspaper poster seemed to +frame themselves before him, and he knew he could not. And so, at last, +there was the bowing beadle with the silver mace, and he must set out on +the little dignified procession to the great Jacobean pulpit with its +velvet cushion at the top. + +Hilda's mind was a curious study during that sermon. At first, as her +lover's rather close-cropped, dark-haired head appeared in sight, she had +studied him with an odd mixture of pride and apprehension. She held her +hymn-book, but she did not need it, and she watched surreptitiously while +he opened the Bible, arranged some papers, and, in accordance with +custom, knelt to pray. She began to think half-thoughts of the days that +might be, when perhaps she would be the wife of the Rector of some St. +John's, and later, possibly, of a Bishop. Peter had it in him to go far, +she knew. She half glanced round with a self-conscious feeling that +people might be guessing at her thoughts, and then back, wondering +suddenly if she really knew the man, or only the minister. And then there +came the rustle of shutting books and of people composing themselves to +listen, the few coughs, the vague suggestion of hassocks and cushions +being made comfortable. And then, in a moment, almost with the giving out +of the text, the sudden stillness and that tense sensation which told +that the young orator had gripped his congregation. + +Thereafter she hardly heard him, as it were, and she certainly lost the +feeling of ownership that had been hers before. As he leaned over the +pulpit, and the words rang out almost harshly from their intensity, she +began to see, as the rest of the congregation began to see, the images +that the preacher conjured up before her. A sense of coming disaster +riveted her--the feeling that she was already watching the end of +an age. + +"Jesus had compassion on the multitude"--that had been the short and +simple text. Simple words, the preacher had said, but how when one +realised Who had had compassion, and on what? Almighty God Himself, with +His incarnate Mind set on the working out of immense and agelong plans, +had, as it were, paused for a moment to have compassion on hungry women +and crying babies and folk whose petty confused affairs could have seemed +of no consequence to anyone in the drama of the world. And then, with a +few terse sentences, the preacher swung from that instance to the world +drama of to-day. Did they realise, he asked, that peaceful bright Sunday +morning, that millions of simple men were at that moment being hurled at +each other to maim and kill? At the bidding of powers that even they +could hardly visualise, at the behest of world politics that not one in +a thousand would understand and scarcely any justify, houses were being +broken up, women were weeping, and children playing in the sun before +cottage doors were even now being left fatherless. It was incredible, +colossal, unimaginable, but as one tried to picture it, Hell had opened +her mouth and Death gone forth to slay. It was terrible enough that +battlefields of stupendous size should soon be littered with the dying +and the dead, but the aftermath of such a war as this would be still more +terrible. No one could say how near it would come to them all. No one +could tell what revolution in morals and social order such a war as this +might not bring. That day God Himself looked down on the multitude as +sheep having no shepherd, abandoned to be butchered by the wolves, and +His heart beat with a divine compassion for the infinite sorrows of the +world. + +There was little more to it. An exhortation to go home to fear and pray +and set the house in order against the Day of Wrath, and that was all. +"My brethren," said the young man--and the intensity of his thought lent +a certain unusual solemnity to the conventional title--"no one can tell +how the events of this week may affect us. Our feet may even now be going +down into the Valley of the Shadow of temptation, of conflict, of death, +and even now there may be preparing for us a chalice such as we shall +fear to drink. Let us pray that in that hour the compassion of Jesus may +be real to us, and we ourselves find a sure place in that sorrowful +Heart." + +And he was gone from the pulpit without another word. It would have been +almost ridiculous if one had noted that the surprised beadle had had no +"And now to God the Father ..." in which to reach the pulpit, and had +been forced to meet his victim hurrying halfway up the chancel; but +perhaps no one but that dignitary, whom the fall of thrones would not +shake, had noticed it. The congregation paid the preacher the great +compliment of sitting on in absolute silence for a minute or two. For a +moment it still stared reality in the face. And then Mr. Lessing shifted +in his pew and coughed, and the Rector rose, pompously as usual, to +announce the hymn, and Hilda became conscious of unaccustomed tears in +her eyes. + +The senior curate solemnly uncovered and removed the chalice. Taking +bread and wine, he deposited the sacred vessels at the north end of the +altar, returned to the centre, unfolded the corporal, received the alms, +and as solemnly set the great gold dish on the corporal itself, after the +unmeaning custom of the church. And then came the long prayer and the +solemn procession to the vestry, while a dozen or two stayed with the +senior curate for the Communion. + +Graham found himself in the little inner vestry, with its green-cloth +table and massive inkstand and registers, and began to unvest +mechanically. He got his coat out of the beautiful carved wardrobe, and +was folding up his hood and surplice, when the Rector laid a patronising +hand on his shoulder. "A good sermon, Graham," he said--"a good sermon, +if a little emotional. It was a pity you forgot the doxology. But it is +a great occasion, I fear a greater occasion than we know, and you rose to +it very well. Last night I had half a mind to 'phone you not to come, and +to preach myself, but I am glad now I did not. I am sure we are very +grateful. Eh, Sir Robert?" + +Sir Robert Doyle, the other warden, was making neat piles of sovereigns +on the green cloth, while Mr. Lessing counted the silver as to the manner +born. He was a pillar of the church, too, was Sir Robert, but a soldier +and a straight speaker. He turned genially to the young man. + +"From the shoulder, Rector," he said. "Perhaps it will make a few of us +sit up a little. Coming down to church I met Arnold of the War Office, +and he said war was certain. Of course it is. Germany has been playing up +for it for years, and we fools have been blind and mad. But it'll come +now. Thank God, I can still do a bit, and maybe we shall meet out there +yet--eh, Mr. Graham?" + +Somehow or another that aspect of the question had not struck Peter +forcibly till now. He had been so occupied with visualising the march +of world events that he had hardly thought of himself as one of the +multitude. But now the question struck home. What would he do? He was +at a loss for the moment. + +The Rector saved him, however. "Well, well, of course, Sir Robert, apart +from the chaplains, the place of the clergy will be almost certainly at +home. Hospital visiting, and so on, will take a lot of time. I believe +the Chaplain-General's Department is fully staffed, but doubtless, if +there is any demand, the clergy will respond. It is, of course, against +Canon Law for them to fight, though doubtless our young friend would like +to do his share in that if he could. You were in the O.T.C. at Oxford, +weren't you, Graham?" + +"Yes," said Graham shortly. + +"The French priests are mobilising with the nation," said Sir Robert. + +"Ah, yes, naturally," replied the Rector; "that is one result of the +recent anti-clerical legislation. Thank God, this country has been spared +that, and in any case we shall never have conscription. Probably the Army +will have to be enlarged--half a million will be required at least, I +should think. That will mean more chaplains, but I should suppose the +Bishops will select--oh, yes, surely their lordships will select. It +would be a pity for you to go, Graham; it's rough work with the Tommies, +and your gifts are wanted at home. The Vicar of St. Thomas's speaks very +highly of your gifts as an organiser, and doubtless some sphere will be +opened up for you. Well, well, these are stirring times. Good-morning, +Mr. Graham." + +He held out his hand to the young man. Mr. Lessing, carefully smoothing +his silk hat, looked up. "Come in to luncheon with us, will you, Graham?" +he said. + +Peter assented, and shook hands all round. Sir Robert and he moved out +together, and the baronet caught his eye in the porch. "This'll jog him +up a bit, I'm thinking," he said to himself. "There's stuff in that chap, +but he's got to feel his legs." + +Outside the summer sun was now powerful, and the streets were dusty and +more busy. The crowd had thinned at the church door, but Hilda and Mrs. +Lessing were waiting for the car. + +"Don't let's drive," said Hilda as they came up; "I'd much sooner walk +home to-day." + +Her father smiled paternally. "Bit cramped after church, eh?" he said. +"Well, what do you say, dear?" he asked his wife. + +"I think I shall drive," Mrs. Lessing replied; "but if Mr. Graham is +coming to luncheon, perhaps he will walk round with Hilda. Will you, Mr. +Graham?" + +"With pleasure," said Peter. "I agree with Miss Lessing, and the walk +will be jolly. We'll go through the park. It's less than half an hour, +isn't it?" + +It was arranged at that, and the elders drove off. Peter raised his hat +to Sir Robert, who turned up the street, and together he and Hilda +crossed over the wide thoroughfare and started down for the park. + +There was silence for a little, and it was Peter who broke it. + +"Just before breakfast," he said, "you asked me what I should do, and I +had no chance to reply. Well, they were talking of it in the vestry just +now, and I've made up my mind. I shall write to-night to the Bishop and +ask for a chaplaincy." + +They walked on a hundred yards or so in silence again. Then Hilda broke +it. "Peter," she began, and stopped. He glanced at her quickly, and saw +in a minute that the one word had spoken truly to him. + +"Oh, Hilda," he said, "do you really care all that? You can't possibly! +Oh, if we were not here, and I could tell you all I feel! But, dear, I +love you; I know now that I have loved you for months, and it is just +because I love you that I must go." + +"Peter," began Hilda again, and again stopped. Then she took a grip of +herself, and spoke out bravely. "Oh, Peter," she said, "you've guessed +right. I never meant you to--at least, not yet, but it is terrible to +think of you going out there. I suppose I ought to be glad and proud, and +in a way I am, but you don't seem the right person for it. It's wasting +you. And I don't know what I shall do without you. You've become the +centre of my life. I count on seeing you, and on working with you. If +you go, you, you may ... Oh, I can't say it! I ought not to say all this. +But..." She broke off abruptly. + +Graham glanced round him. They were in the park now, and no one in +particular was about in the quiet of the sidewalk. He put his hand out, +and drew her gently to a seat. Then, leaning forward and poking at the +ground with his stick, he began. "Hilda, darling," he said, "it's awful +to have to speak to you just now and just like this, but I must. First, +about ourselves. I love you with all my heart, only that's so little to +say; I love you so much that you fill my life. And I have planned my life +with you. I hardly knew it, but I had. I thought I should just go on and +get a living and marry you--perhaps, if you would (I can hardly speak of +it now I know you would)--and--and--oh, I don't know--make a name in the +Church, I suppose. Well, and I hope we shall one day, but now this has +come along. I really feel all I said this morning, awfully. I shall go +out--I must. The men must be helped; one can't sit still and imagine them +dying, wounded, tempted, and without a priest. It's a supreme chance. We +shall be fighting for honour and truth, and the Church must be there to +bear her witness and speak her message. There will be no end to do. And +it is a chance of a lifetime to get into touch with the men, and +understand them. You do see that, don't you? And, besides--forgive me, +but I must put it so--if _He_ had compassion on the multitude, ought we +not to have too? _He_ showed it by death; ought we to fear even that +too?" + +The girl stole out a hand, and his gripped it hard. Then she remembered +the conventions and pulled it away, and sat a little more upright. She +was extraordinarily conscious of herself, and she felt as if she had two +selves that day. One was Hilda Lessing, a girl she knew quite well, a +well-trained person who understood life, and the business of society and +of getting married, quite correctly; and the other was somebody she did +not know at all, that could not reason, and who felt naked and ashamed. +It was inexplicable, but it was so. That second self was listening to +heroics and even talking them, and surely heroics were a little out of +date. + +She looked across a wide green space, and saw, through the distant trees, +the procession of the church parade. She felt as if she ought to be +there, and half unconsciously glanced at her dress. A couple of terriers +ran scurrying across the grass, and a seat-ticket man came round the +corner. Behind them a taxi hooted, and some sparrows broke out into a +noisy chatter in a bush. And here was Peter talking of death, and the +Cross--and out of church, too. + +She gave a little shudder, and glanced at a wrist-watch. "Peter," she +said, "we must go. Dear, for my sake, do think it over. Wait a little, +and see what happens. I quite understand your point of view, but you must +think of others--even your Vicar, my parents, and of me. And Peter, shall +we say anything about our--our love? What do you think?" + +Peter Graham looked at her steadily, and as she spoke he, too, felt the +contrast between his thoughts and ordinary life. The London curate was +himself again. He got up. "Well, darling," he said, "just as you like, +but perhaps not--at any rate until I know what I have to do. I'll think +that over. Only, we shan't change, shall we, whatever happens? You _do_ +love me, don't you? And I do love you." + +Hilda met his gaze frankly and blushed a little. She held out a hand to +be helped up. "My dear boy," she said. + +After luncheon Peter smoked a cigar in the study with Mr. Lessing before +departure. Every detail of that hour impressed itself upon him as had the +events of the day, for his mind was strung up to see the inner meaning of +things clearly. + +They began with the usual ritual of the selection of chairs and cigars, +and Mr. Lessing had a glass of port with his coffee, because, as he +explained, his nerves were all on edge. Comfortably stretched out in an +armchair, blowing smoke thoughtfully towards the empty grate, his fat +face and body did not seem capable of nerves, still less to be suffering +from them, but then one can never tell from appearances. At any rate he +chose his words with care, and Graham, opposite but sitting rather +upright, could not but sense his meaning. + +"Well, well, well," he said, "to think we should come to this! A European +war in this century, and we in it! Not that I'll believe it till I hear +it officially. While there's life there's hope, eh, Graham?" + +Peter nodded, for he did not know what to say. + +"The question is," went on the other, "that if we are carried into war, +what is the best policy? Some fools will lose their heads, of course, and +chuck everything to run into it. But I've no use for fools, Graham." + +"No, sir," said Peter. + +"No use for fools," repeated Mr. Lessing. "I shall carry on with business +as usual, and I hope other people will carry on with theirs. There are +plenty of men who can fight, and who ought to, without disorganising +everything. Hilda would see that too--she's such a sensible girl. Look at +that Boer affair, and all that foolery about the C.I.V. Why, I met a +South African at the club the other day who said we'd have done ten times +as well without 'em. You must have trained men these days, and, after +all, it's the men behind the armies that win the war. Men like you and I, +Graham, each doing his ordinary job without excitement. That's the type +that's made old England. You ought to preach about it, Graham. Come to +think, it fits in with what you said this morning, and a good sermon too, +young man. Every man's got to put his house in order and carry on. You +meant that, didn't you?" + +"Something like that," said Peter; "but as far as the clergy are +concerned, I still think the Bishops ought to pick their men." + +"Yes, yes, of course," said Mr. Lessing, stretching himself a bit. "But I +don't think the clergy could be much use over there. As the Canon said, +there will be plenty to do at home. In any case it would be no use +rushing the Bishops. Let them see what's needed, and then let them choose +their men, eh? A man like London's sure to be in the know. Good thing +he's your Bishop, Graham: you can leave it to him easily?" + +"I should think so, sir," said Peter forlornly. + +"Oh, well, glad to hear you say it, I'm sure, Graham, and so will Mrs. +Lessing be, and Hilda. We're old-fashioned folk, you know.... Well, well, +and I suppose I oughtn't to keep you. I'll come with you to the door, my +boy." + +He walked ahead of the young man into the hall, and handed him his hat +himself. On the steps they shook hands to the fire of small sentences. +"Drop in some evening, won't you? Don't know if I really congratulated +you on the sermon; you spoke extraordinarily well, Graham. You've a great +gift. After all, this war will give you a bit of a chance, eh? We must +hear you again in St. John's.... Good-afternoon." + +"Good-afternoon, Mr. Lessing," said Graham, "and thank you for all you've +said." + +In the street he walked slowly, and he thought of all Mr. Lessing had not +said as well as all he had. After all, he had spoken sound sense, and +there was Hilda. He couldn't lose Hilda, and if the old man turned out +obstinate--well, it would be all but impossible to get her. Probably +things were not as bad as he had imagined. Very likely it would all be +over by Christmas. If so, it was not much use throwing everything up. +Perhaps he could word the letter to the Bishop a little differently. He +turned over phrases all the way home, and got them fairly pat. But it was +a busy evening, and he did not write that night. + +Monday always began as a full day, what with staff meeting and so on, and +its being Bank Holiday did not make much difference to them. But in the +afternoon he was free to read carefully the Sunday papers, and was +appalled with the swiftness of the approach of the universal cataclysm. +After Evensong and supper, then, he got out paper and pen and wrote, +though it took much longer than he thought it would. In the end he begged +the Bishop to remember him if it was really necessary to find more +chaplains, and expressed his readiness to serve the Church and the +country when he was wanted. When it was written, he sat long over the +closed envelope and smoked a couple of pipes. He wondered if men were +killing each other, even now, just over the water. He pictured a battle +scene, drawing from imagination and what he remembered of field-days at +Aldershot. He shuddered a little as he conceived himself crawling through +heather to reach a man in the front line who had been hit, while the +enemies' guns on the crest opposite were firing as he had seen them fire +in play. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be hit. + +Then he got up and stretched himself. He looked round curiously at the +bookcase, the Oxford group or two, the hockey cap that hung on the edge +of one. He turned to the mantelpiece and glanced over the photos. +Probably Bob Scarlett would be out at once; he was in some Irish +regiment or other. Old Howson was in India; he wouldn't hear or see much. +Jimmy--what would Jimmy do, now? He picked up the photograph and looked +at it--the clean-shaven, thoughtful, good-looking face of the best fellow +in the world, who had got his fellowship almost at once after his +brilliant degree, and was just now, he reflected, on holiday in the +South of France. Jimmy, the idealist, what would Jimmy do? He reached +for a hat and made for the door. He would post his letter that night +under the stars. + +Once outside, he walked on farther down Westminster way. At the Bridge +he leaned for a while and watched the sullen, tireless river, and then +turned to walk up past the House. It was a clear, still night, and the +street was fairly empty. Big Ben boomed eleven, and as he crossed in +front of the gates to reach St. Margaret's he wondered what was doing in +there. He had the vaguest notion where people like the Prime Minister and +Sir Edward Grey would be that night. He thought possibly with the King, +or in Downing Street. And then he heard his name being called, and turned +to see Sir Robert Doyle coming towards him. + +The other's face arrested him. "Is there any news, Sir Robert?" he asked. + +Sir Robert glanced up in his turn at the great shining dial above them. +"Our ultimatum has gone or is just going to Germany, and in twenty-four +hours we shall be at war," he said tersely. "I'm just going home; I've +been promised a job." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +At 7.10 on a foggy February morning Victoria Station looked a place of +mystery within which a mighty work was going forward. Electric lights +still shone in the gloom, and whereas innumerable units of life ran this +way and that like ants disturbed, an equal number stood about apparently +indifferent and unperturbed. Tommies who had found a place against a wall +or seat deposited rifle and pack close by, lit a pipe, and let the world +go by, content that when the officers' leave train had gone someone, or +some Providence, would round them up as well. But, for the rest, porters, +male and female, rushed up with baggage; trunks were pushed through the +crowd with the usual objurgations; subalterns, mostly loud and merry, +greeted each other or the officials, or, more subdued, moved purposefully +through the crowd with their women-folk, intent on finding a quieter +place farther up the platforms. + +There was no mistaking the leave platform or the time of the train, for a +great notice drew one's attention to it. Once there, the Army took a man +in hand. Peter was entirely new to the process, but he speedily +discovered that his fear of not knowing what to do or where to go, which +had induced him (among other reasons) to say good-bye at home and come +alone to the station, was unfounded. Red-caps passed him on respectfully +but purposefully to officials, who looked at this paper and that, and +finally sent him up to an officer who sat at a little table with papers +before him to write down the name, rank, unit, and destination of each +individual destined that very morning to leave for the Army in France. + +Peter at last, then, was free to walk up the platform, and seek the rest +of his luggage that had come on from the hotel with the porter. He was +free, that is, if one disregarded the kit hung about his person, or +which, despite King's Regulations, he carried in his hands. But free or +not, he could not find his luggage. At 7.30 it struck him that at least +he had better find his seat. He therefore entered a corridor and began +pilgrimage. It was seemingly hopeless. The seats were filled with coats +or sticks or papers; every type of officer was engaged in bestowing +himself and his goods; and the general atmosphere struck him as being +precisely that which one experiences as a fresher when one first enters +hall for dinner at the 'Varsity. The comparison was very close. +First-year men--that is to say, junior officers returning from their +first leave--were the most encumbered, self-possessed, and asserting; +those of the second year, so to say, usually got a corner-seat and looked +out of window; while here and there a senior officer, or a subaltern with +a senior's face, selected a place, arranged his few possessions, and got +out a paper, not in the Oxford manner, as if he owned the place, but in +the Cambridge, as if he didn't care a damn who did. + +Peter made a horrible hash of it. He tried to find a seat with all his +goods in his hands, not realising that they might have been deposited +anywhere in the train, and found when it had started, since, owing to a +particular dispensation of the high gods, everything that passed the +barrier for France got there. He made a dive for one place and sat in it, +never noting a thin stick in the corner, and he cleared out with enormous +apologies when a perfectly groomed Major with an exceedingly pleasant +manner mentioned that it was his seat, and carefully put the stick +elsewhere as soon as Peter had gone. Finally, at the end of a carriage, +he descried a small door half open, and inside what looked like an empty +seat. He pulled it open, and discovered a small, select compartment with +a centre table and three men about it, all making themselves very +comfortable. + +"I beg your pardon," said Peter, "but is there a place vacant for one?" + +The three eyed him stonily, and he knew instinctively that he was again a +fresher calling on the second year. One, a Captain, raised his head to +look at him better. He was a man of light hair and blue, alert eyes, +wearing a cap that, while not looking dissipated, somehow conveyed the +impression that its owner knew all about things--a cap, too, that carried +the Springbok device. The lean face, with its humorous mouth, regarded +Peter and took him all in: his vast expanse of collar, the wide black +edging to his shoulder-straps, his brand-new badges, his black buttons +and stars. Then he lied remorselessly: + +"Sorry, padre; we're full up." + +Peter backed out and forgot to close the door, for at that moment a +shrill whistle was excruciatingly blown. He found himself in the very cab +of the Pullman with the glass door before him, through which could be +seen a sudden bustle. Subalterns hastened forward from the more or less +secluded spots that they had found, with a vision of skirts and hats +behind them; an inspector passed aggressively along; and--thanks to those +high gods--Peter observed the hurrying hotel porter at that moment. In +sixty seconds the door had been jerked open; a gladstone, a suit-case, +and a kit-bag shot at him; largesse had changed hands; the door had shut +again; the train had groaned and started; and Peter was off to France. + +It was with mixed feelings that he groped for his luggage. He was +conscious of wanting a seat and a breakfast; he was also conscious of +wanting to look at the station he was leaving, which he dimly felt he +might never see again; and he was, above all, conscious that he looked a +fool and would like not to. In such a turmoil he lugged at the gladstone +and got it into a corner, and then turned to the window in the cleared +space with a determination. In turning he caught the Captain's face stuck +round the little door. It was withdrawn at once, but came out again, and +he heard for the second time the unfamiliar title: + +"Say, padre; come in here. There's room after all." + +Peter felt cheered. He staggered to the door, and found the others busy +making room. A subaltern of the A.S.C. gripped his small attaché case and +swung it up on to the rack. The South African pulled a British warm off +the vacant seat and reached out for the suit-case. And the third man, with +the rank of a Major and the badge of a bursting bomb, struck a match and +paused as he lit a cigarette to jerk out: + +"Damned full train! We ought to have missed it, Donovan." + +"It's a good stunt that, if too many blighters don't try it on," observed +the subaltern, reaching for Peter's warm. "But they did my last leave, +and I got the devil of a choking off from the brass-hat in charge. It's +the Staff train, and they only take Prime Ministers, journalists, and +trade-union officials in addition. How's that, padre?" + +"Thanks," said Peter, subsiding. "It's jolly good of you to take me in. I +thought I'd got to stand from here to Folkestone." + +H.P. Jenks, Second-Lieutenant A.S.C., regarded him seriously. "It +couldn't be done, padre," he said, "not at this hour of the morning. I +left Ealing about midnight more or less, got sandwiched in the Metro with +a Brigadier-General and his blooming wife and daughters, and had to wait +God knows how long for the R.T.O. If I couldn't get a seat and a break +after that, I'd be a casualty, sure thing." + +"It's your own fault for going home last night," observed the Major +judiciously. (Peter noticed that he was little older than Jenks on +inspection.) "Gad, Donovan, you should have been with us at the Adelphi! +It was some do, I can tell you. And afterwards..." + +"Shut up, Major!" cut in Jenks. "Remember the padre." + +"Oh, he's broad-minded I know, aren't you, padre? By the way, did you +ever meet old Drennan who was up near Poperinghe with the Canadians? He +was a sport, I can tell you. Mind you, a real good chap at his job, but a +white man. Pluck! By jove! I don't think that chap had nerves. I saw him +one day when they were dropping heavy stuff on the station, and he was +getting some casualties out of a Red Cross train. A shell burst just down +the embankment, and his two orderlies ducked for it under the carriage, +but old Drennan never turned a hair. 'Better have a fag,' he said to the +Scottie he was helping. 'It's no use letting Fritz put one off one's +smoke.'" + +Peter said he had not met him, but could not think of anything else to +say at the moment, except that he was just going out for the first time. + +"You don't say?" said Donovan dryly. + +"Wish I was!" ejaculated Jenks. + +"Good chap," replied the Major. "Pity more of your sort don't come over. +When I was up at Loos, September last year, we didn't see a padre in +three months. Then they put on a little chap--forget his name--who used +to bike over when we were in rest billets. But he wasn't much use." + +"I was in hospital seven weeks and never saw one," said Jenks. + +"Good heavens!" said Graham. "But I've been trying to get out for +all these years, and I was always told that every billet was taken +and that there were hundreds on the waiting list. Last December the +Chaplain-General himself showed me a list of over two hundred names." + +"Don't know where they get to, then, do you, Bevan?" asked Jenks. + +"No," said the Major, "unless they keep 'em at the base." + +"Plenty down at Rouen, anyway," said Donovan. "A sporting little blighter +I met at the Brasserie Opera told me he hadn't anything to do, anyway." + +"I shall be a padre in the next war," said Jenks, stretching out his +legs. "A parade on Sunday, and you're finished for the week. No orderly +dog, no night work, and plenty of time for your meals. Padres can always +get leave too, and they always come and go by Paris." + +Donovan laughed, and glanced sideways at Peter. "Stow it, Jenks," he +said. "Where you for, padre?" he asked. + +"I've got to report at Rouen," said Peter. "I was wondering if you were +there." + +"No such luck now," returned the other. "But it's a jolly place. Jenko's +there. Get him to take you out to Duclair. You can get roast duck at a +pub there that melts in your mouth. And what's that little hotel near the +statue of Joan of Arc, Jenks, where they still have decent wine?" + +Peter was not to learn yet awhile, for at that moment the little door +opened and a waiter looked in. "Breakfast, gentlemen?" he asked. + +"Oh, no," said Jenks. "Waiter, I always bring some rations with me; I'll +just take a cup of coffee." + +The man grinned. "Right-o, sir," he said. "Porridge, gentlemen?" + +He disappeared, leaving the door open and, Donovan opening a newspaper, +Graham stared out of window to wait. From the far corners came scraps of +conversation, from which he gathered that Jenks and the Major were going +over the doings of the night before. He caught a word or two, and stared +the harder out of window. + +Outside the English country was rushing by. Little villas, with +back-gardens running down to the rail, would give way for a mile or two +to fields, and then start afresh. The fog was thin there, and England +looked extraordinarily homely and pleasant. It was the known; he was +conscious of rushing at fifty miles an hour into the unknown. He turned +over the scrappy conversation of the last few minutes, and found it +savoured of the unknown. It was curious the difference uniform made. He +felt that these men were treating him more like one of themselves than +men in a railway-carriage had ever treated him before; that somehow even +his badges made him welcome; and yet that, nevertheless, it was not he, +Peter Graham, that they welcomed, or at least not his type. He wondered +if padres in France were different from priests in England. He turned +over the unknown Drennan in his mind. Was it because he was a good priest +that the men liked him, or because they had discovered the man in the +parson? + +The waiter brought in the breakfast--porridge, fish, toast, and the +rest--and they fell to, a running fire of comments going on all the time. +Donovan had had Japanese marmalade somewhere, and thought it better than +this. The Major wouldn't touch the beastly margarine, but Jenks thought +it quite as good as butter if taken with marmalade, and put it on nearly +as thickly as his toast. Peter expanded in the air of camaraderie, and +when he leaned back with a cigarette, tunic unbuttoned and cap tossed up +on the rack, he felt as if he had been in the Army for years. He +reflected how curious that was. The last two or three years or so of Boy +Scouts and hospitals and extra prayer-meetings, attended by the people +who attended everything else, seemed to have faded away. There was hardly +a gap between that first war evening which he remembered so clearly and +this. It was a common experience enough, and probably due to the fact +that, whereas everything else had made little impression, he had lived +for this moment and been extraordinarily impressed by that Sunday. But he +realised, also, that it was due as much to his present companions. They +had, seemingly, accepted him as he had never been accepted before. They +asked practically no questions. So far as he could see, he made no +difference to them. He felt as if he were at last part of a great +brotherhood, in which, chiefly, one worried about nothing more important +than Japanese marmalade and margarine. + +"We're almost there, boys," said Bevan, peering out of window. + +"Curse!" ejaculated Jenks. "I hate getting my traps together in a train, +and I loathe the mob on the boat." + +"I don't see why you should," said Donovan. "I'm blest if I bother about +anything. The R.T.O. and the red-caps do everything, and you needn't even +worry about getting a Pullman ticket this way over. Hope it's not rough, +though." He let a window down and leaned out. "Looks all right," he +added. + +Peter got up with the rest and began to hang things about him. His +staringly new Sam Browne irritated him, but he forgot it as the train +swung round the curve to the landing-stage. + +"Get a porter and a truck, Donovan," said the Major, who was farthest +from the door. + +They got out nonchalantly, and Peter lit a cigarette, while the others +threw remarks at the man as to luggage. Then they all trooped off +together in a crowd that consisted of every variety of rank and regiment +and section of the British Empire, plus some Waacs and nurses. + +_The Pride of Folkestone_ lay alongside, and when they got there she +seemed already full. The four of them got jammed at the gangway and +shoved on board, handing in and receiving papers from the official at the +head as they passed him. Donovan was in front, and as he stepped on deck +he swung his kit-bag back to Peter, crying: + +"Lay hold of that, padre, and edge across the deck. Get up ahead of the +funnel that side. I'll get chairs. Jenko, you rotter, get belts, and drop +eyeing the girl!" + +"Jolly nice bit of fluff," said Jenks meditatively, staring fixedly +across the deck. + +"Where?" queried the Major, fumbling for his eyeglass. + +"Get on there, please, gentlemen," called a ship's official. + +"Damn it! mind my leg!" + +"Cheerio, old son, here we are again!" + +"I say, Tommy, did you get to the Alhambra last night, after all? What? +Well, I couldn't see you, anyhow." + +To which accompaniment, Peter pushed his way across the deck. "Sorry, +padre," said a V.A.D. who blocked the way, bending herself back to let +him pass, and smiling. "Catch hold," called out Donovan, swinging a +couple of chairs at him. "No, sir, it's not my chair"--to a Colonel +who was grabbing at one already set out against the rail. + +The Colonel collected it and disappeared, Jenks appearing a moment later, +red-faced, through the crush. "You blamed fool," he whispered, "it's that +girl's. I saw her put one here and edged up on it, only some fool got in +my way. Still (hopefully), perhaps she'll come back." + +Between them they got four chairs into a line and sat down, all, that is, +save Jenks, who stood up, in a bland and genial way, as if to survey the +crowd impartially. How impartially soon appeared. "Damn!" he exploded. +"She's met some other females, weird and woolly things, and she's sitting +down there. No, by Jove! she's looking this way." + +He made a half-start forward, and the Major kicked his shins. "Blast!" he +exploded; "why did you do that, you fool?" + +"Don't be an infant, Jenko, sit down. You can't start a flirtation across +the blooming deck. Here, padre, can't you keep him in order?" + +Peter half raised himself from his chair at this, and glanced the way the +other was looking. Through the crush he saw, clearly enough for a minute, +a girl of medium height in a nurse's uniform, sideways on to him. The +next second she half-turned, obviously smiling some remark to her +neighbour, and he caught sight of clear brown eyes and a little fringe +of dark hair on the forehead of an almost childish face. The eyes met +his. And then a sailor blundered across his field of vision. + +"Topping, isn't she?" demanded Jenks, who had apparently been pulled down +into his chair in the interval. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Graham, and added deliberately: "Rather +ordinary, I thought." + +Jenks stared at him. "Good Lord, padre," he said, "where are your eyes?" + +Peter heard a little chuckle behind, and glanced round to see Donovan +staring at him with amusement written all across his face. "You'll do, +padre," he said, taking a pipe from his pocket and beginning to fill it. +Peter smiled and leant back. Probably for the first time in five years he +forgot for a moment what sort of a collar it was around his neck. + +Sitting there, he began to enjoy himself. The sea glittered in the +sun and the Lees stretched out opposite him across the shining gulf. +Sea-birds dipped and screamed. On his left, Major Bevan was talking to +a flying man, and Peter glanced up with him to see an aeroplane that +came humming high up above the trees on the cliff and flew out to sea. + +"Damned fine type!" said the boy, whose tunic, for all his youth, sported +wings. "Fritz can't touch it yet. Of course, he'll copy it soon enough, +or go one better, but just at present I think it's the best out. Wish +we'd got some in our circus. We've nothing but ..." and he trailed off +into technicalities. + +Peter found himself studying Donovan, who lay back beyond Jenks turning +the pages of an illustrated magazine and smoking. The eyes interested +him; they looked extraordinarily clear, but as if their owner kept hidden +behind them a vast number of secrets as old as the universe. The face was +lined--good-looking, he thought, but the face of a man who was no novice +in the school of life. Peter felt he liked the Captain instinctively. He +carried breeding stamped on him, far more than, say, the Major with the +eyeglass. Peter wondered if they would meet again. + +The siren sounded, and a bustle began as people put on their life-belts. +"All life-belts on, please," said a young officer continually, who, with +a brassard on his arm, was going up and down among the chairs. "Who's +that?" asked Peter, struggling with his belt. + +"Some poor bloke who has been roped in for crossin' duty," said Jenks. +"Mind my chair, padre; Bevan and I are going below for a wet. Coming, +skipper?" + +"Not yet," said Donovan; "the bar's too full at first for me. Padre and +I'll come later." + +The others stepped off across the crowded deck, and Donovan pitched his +magazine into Bevan's chair to retain it. + +"You're from South Africa?" queried Peter. + +"Yes," replied the other. "I was in German West, and came over after on +my own. Joined up with the brigade here." + +"What part of Africa?" asked Peter. + +"Basutoland, padre. Not a bad place in a way--decent climate, topping +scenery, but rather a stodgy crowd in the camps. One or two decent +people, but the majority mid-Victorian, without a blessed notion except +the price of mealies, who quarrel about nothing half the time, and talk +tuppenny-ha'penny scandal the rest. Good Lord! I wish we had some of the +perishers out here. But they know which side of the bread the butter is. +Bad time for trade, they say, and every other trader has bought a car +since the war. Of course, there's something to be said for the other +side, but what gets my goat is their pettiness. I'm for British East +Africa after the war. There's a chap written a novel about Basutoland +called 'The Land of To-morrow,' but I'd call it 'The Land of the Day +before Yesterday.' I suppose some of them came over with an assortment of +ideas one time, but they've struck no new ones since. I don't advise you +to settle in a South African dorp if you can help it, padre." + +"Don't suppose I shall," said Peter. "I've just got engaged, and my +girl's people wouldn't let her out of England." + +"Engaged, are you? Thank your stars you aren't married. It's safer not to +be out here." + +"Why?" + +Donovan looked at him curiously. "Oh, you'll find out fast enough, +padre," he said. "Wonder what you'll make of it. Rum place just now, +France, I can tell you. There's the sweepings of half the world over +there, and everything's turned upside down. Fellows are out for a spree, +of course, and you can't be hard on a chap down from the line if he goes +on the bust a bit. It's human nature, and you must allow for it; don't +you think so?" + +"Human nature can be controlled," said Peter primly. + +"Can it?" retorted the other. "Even the cloth doesn't find it too easy, +apparently." + +"What do you mean?" demanded Peter, and then added: "Don't mind telling +me; I really want to know." + +Donovan knocked out his pipe, and evaded. "You've got to be broad-minded, +padre," he said. + +"Well, I am," said Peter. "But ..." + +"Come and have a drink then," interrupted the other. "Jenko and the Major +are coming back." + +"Damned poor whisky!" said the latter, catching the rail as the boat +heaved a bit, "begging your pardon, padre. Better try brandy. If the war +lasts much longer there'll be no whisky worth drinking this side. I'm off +it till we get to the club at Boulogne." + +Peter and Donovan went off together. It was a new experience for Peter, +but he wouldn't have owned it. They groped their way down the saloon +stairs, and through a crowd to the little bar. "What's yours?" demanded +Donovan. + +"Oh, I'll take the Major's advice," said Peter. "Brandy-and-soda for me." + +"Soda finished, sir," said the bar steward. + +"All right: two brandies-and-water, steward," said Donovan, and swung a +revolving seat near round for Graham. As he took it, Peter noticed the +man opposite. His badge was a Maltese Cross, but he wore a flannel collar +and tie. Their eyes met, but the other stared a bit stonily. For the +second time, Peter wished he hadn't a clerical collar. The next he was +taking the glass from the South African. "Cheerio," said Donovan. + +"Here's to you," said Peter, and leaned back with an assumption of ease. + +He had a strange sense of unreality. No fool and no Puritan, he had +naturally, however, been little in such an atmosphere since ordination. +He would have had a drink in Park Lane with the utmost ease, and he would +have argued, over it, that the clergy were not nearly so out of touch +with men as the papers said. But down here, in the steamer's saloon, +surrounded by officers, in an atmosphere of indifference to him and his +office, he felt differently. He was aware, dimly, that for the past five +years situations in which he had been had been dominated by him, and that +he, as a clergyman, had been continually the centre of concern. Talk, +conduct, and company had been rearranged when he came in, and it had +happened so often that he had ceased to be aware of it. But now he was +a mere unit, of no particular importance whatever. No one dreamed of +modifying himself particularly because a clergyman was present. Peter +clung to the belief that it was not altogether so, but he was +sufficiently conscious of it. And he was conscious of liking it, of +wanting to sink back in it as a man sinks back in an easy-chair. He +felt he ought not to do so, and he made a kind of mental effort to +pull himself together. + +Up on the deck the world was very fair. The French coast was now clearly +visible, and even the houses of the town, huddled together as it seemed, +but dominated by a church on the hill. Behind them, a sister ship +containing Tommies ploughed steadily along, serene and graceful in the +sunlight, and above an airship of silvery aluminum, bearing the +tricoloured circle of the Allies, kept pace with the swift ship without +an effort. Four destroyers were visible, their low, dark shapes ploughing +regularly along at stated intervals, and someone said a fifth was out of +sight behind. People were already beginning to take off their life-belts, +and the sailors were clearing a place for the gangway. Peter found that +Donovan had known what he was about, for his party would be close to the +gangway without moving. He began to wonder uneasily what would be done +on landing, and to hope that Donovan would be going his way. No one had +said a word about it. He looked round for Jenks' nurse, but couldn't see +her. + +It was jolly entering the port. The French houses and fishing-boats +looked foreign, although one could hardly say why. On the quay was a big +notice: "All officers to report at once to the M.L.O." Farther on was a +board bearing the letters "R.T.O." ... But Peter hardly liked to ask. + +In fact, everything went like clockwork. He presently found himself +in a queue, behind Donovan, of officers who were passing a small +window like a ticket office. Arriving, he handed in papers, and was +given them back with a brief "All right." Beyond, Donovan had secured +a broken-down-looking one-horse cab. "You'll be coming to the club, +padre?" he asked. "Chuck in your stuff. This chap'll take it down and +Bevan with it. Let's walk. It isn't far." + +Jenks elected to go with his friend the Major, and Donovan and Peter +set off over the cobbles. They joined up with another small group, and +for the first time Peter had to give his name as he was introduced. He +forgot the others, as soon as he heard them, and they forgot his. A big +Dublin Fusilier officer with a tiny moustache, that seemed ludicrous +in his great face, exchanged a few sentences with him. They left the +quay and crossed a wide space where a bridge debouched towards the +railway-station. Donovan, who was walking ahead, passed on, but the +Fusilier suggested to Peter that they might as well see the R.T.O. at +once about trains. Entering the station gates, the now familiar initials +appearing on a row of offices before them to the left, Peter's companion +demanded the train to Albert. + +"Two-thirty a.m., change at Amiens, sir," said a clerk in uniform within, +and the Fusilier passed on. + +"What time is the Rouen train?" asked Peter in his turn, and was told +9.30 p.m. + +"You're in luck, padre," said the other. "It's bally rotten getting in at +two-thirty, and probably the beastly thing won't go till five. Still, it +might be worse. You can get on board at midnight, and with luck get to +sleep. If I were you, I'd be down here early for yours--crowded always, +it is. Of course, you'll dine at the club?" + +Peter supposed he would. + +The club entrance was full up with officers, and more and more kept +pouring in. Donovan was just leaving the counter on the right with some +tickets in his hand as they pushed in. "See you later," he called out. +"I've got to sleep here, and I want to leave my traps." + +Peter wondered where, but was too much occupied in keeping well behind +the Fusilier to think much. At a kind of counter a girl in a W.A.A.C. +uniform was serving out tickets of one sort and another, and presently +the two of them were before her. For a few francs one got tickets for +lunch, dinner, bed, a bath, and whatever else one wanted, but Peter +had no French money. The Fusilier bought him the first two, however, +and together they forced their way out into the great lounge. "Half +an hour before lunch," said his new companion, and then, catching sight +of someone: "Hullo, Jack, you back? Never saw you on the boat. Did +you ..." His voice trailed off as he crossed the room. + +Peter looked around a little disconsolately. Then he made his way to a +huge lounge-chair and threw himself into it. + +All about him was a subdued chatter. A big fire burned in the stove, +and round it was a wide semicircle of chairs. Against the wall were +more, and a small table or two stood about. Nearly every chair had its +occupant--all sorts and conditions of officers, mostly in undress, and he +noticed some fast asleep, with muddied boots. There was a look on their +faces, even in sleep, and Peter guessed that some at least were down +from the line on their way to a brief leave. More and more came in +continuously. Stewards with drinks passed quickly in and out about them. +The Fusilier and his friend were just ordering something. Peter opened +his case and took out a cigarette, tapping it carefully before lighting +it. He began to feel at home and lazy and comfortable, as if he had been +there before. + +An orderly entered with envelopes in his hand. "Lieutenant Frazer?" he +called, and looked round inquiringly. There was no reply, and he turned +to the next. "Captain Saunders?" Still no reply. "Lieutenant Morcombe?" +Still no reply. "Lieutenant Morcombe," he called again. Nobody took any +interest, and he turned on his heel, pushed the swing-door open, and +departed. + +Then Donovan came in, closely followed by Bevan. Peter got up and made +towards them. "Hullo!" said Bevan. "Have an appetiser, padre. Lunch will +be on in twenty minutes. What's yours, skipper?" + +The three of them moved on to Peter's chair, and Bevan dragged up +another. Peter subsided, and Donovan sat on the edge. Peter pulled +out his cigarette-case again, and offered it. Bevan, after one or two +ineffectual attempts, got an orderly at last. + +"Well, here's fun," he said. + +"Cheerio," said Peter. He remembered Donovan had said that in the saloon. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Jenks being attached to the A.S.C. engaged in feeding daily more than +100,000 men in the Rouen area, Peter and he travelled together. By the +latter's advice they reached the railway-station soon after 8.30, but +even so the train seemed full. There were no lights in the siding, and +none whatever on the train, so that it was only by matches that one could +tell if a compartment was full or empty, except in the case of those from +which candle-light and much noise proclaimed the former indisputably. At +last, however, somewhere up near the engine, they found a second-class +carriage, apparently unoccupied, with a big ticket marked "Reserved" upon +it. Jenks struck a match and regarded this critically. "Well, padre," he +said, "as it doesn't say for whom it is reserved, I guess it may as +well be reserved for us. So here goes." He swung up and tugged at the +door, which for some time refused to give. Then it opened suddenly, and +Second-Lieutenant Jenks, A.S.C., subsided gracefully and luridly on the +ground outside. Peter struck another match and peered in. It was then +observed that the compartment was not empty, but that a dark-haired, +lanky youth, stretched completely along one seat, was regarding them +solemnly. + +"This carriage is reserved," he said. + +"Yes," said Jenks cheerfully, "for us, sir. May I ask what you are doing +in it?" + +The awakened one sighed. "It's worked before, and if you chaps come in +and shut the door quickly, perhaps it will work again. Three's not too +bad, but I've seen six in these perishing cars. Come in quickly, for the +Lord's sake!" + +Peter looked round him curiously. Two of the four windows were broken, +and the glory had departed from the upholstery. There was no light, and +it would appear that a heavier body than that designed for it had +travelled upon the rack. Jenks was swearing away to himself and trying +to light a candle-end. Peter laughed. + +"Got any cards?" asked the original owner. + +"Yes," said Jenks. "Got any grub?" + +"Bath-olivers and chocolate and half a water-bottle of whisky," replied +the original owner. "And we shall need them." + +"Good enough," said Jenks. "And the padre here has plenty of sandwiches, +for he ordered a double lot." + +"Do you play auction, padre?" queried what turned out, in the +candle-light, to be a Canadian. + +Peter assented; he was moderately good, he knew. + +This fairly roused the Canadian. He swung his legs off the seat, and +groped for the door. "Hang on to this dug-out, you men," he said, "and +I'll get a fourth. I kidded some fellows of ours with that notice just +now, but I know them, and I can get a decent chap to come in." + +He was gone a few minutes only; then voices sounded outside. "Been +looking for you, old dear," said their friend. "Only two sportsmen here +and a nice little show all to ourselves. Tumble in, and we'll get +cheerful. Not that seat, old dear. But wait a jiffy; let's sort things +out first." + + * * * * * + +They snorted out of the dreary tunnel into Rouen in the first daylight of +the next morning. Peter looked eagerly at the great winding river and the +glory of the cathedral as it towered up above the mists that hung over +the houses. There was a fresh taste of spring in the air, and the smoke +curled clear and blue from the slow-moving barges on the water. The bare +trees on the island showed every twig and thin branch, as if they had +been pencilled against the leaden-coloured flood beneath. A tug puffed +fussily upstream, red and yellow markings on its grimy black. + +Jenks was asleep in the corner, but he woke as they clattered across the +bridge. "Heigh-ho!" he sighed, stretching. "Back to the old graft again." + +Yet once more Peter began to collect his belongings. It seemed ages since +he had got into the train at Victoria, and he felt particularly grubby +and unshaven. + +"What's the next move?" he asked. + +Jenks eyed him. "Going to take a taxi?" he queried. + +"Where to?" said Peter. + +"Well, if you ask me, padre," he replied, "I don't see what's against a +decent clean-up and breakfast at the club. It doesn't much matter when I +report, and the club's handy for your show. I know the A.C.G.'s office, +because it's in the same house as the Base Cashier, and the club's just +at the bottom of the street. But it's the deuce of a way from the +station. If we can get a taxi, I vote we take it." + +"Right-o," agreed Peter. "You lead on." + +They tumbled out on the platform, and produced the necessary papers at +the exit labelled "British Officers Only." A red-capped military +policeman wrote down particulars on a paper, and in a few minutes they +were out among the crowd of peasantry in the booking-hall. Jenks pushed +through, and had secured a cab by the time Peter arrived. "There isn't a +taxi to be got, padre," he said, "but this'll do." + +They rolled off down an avenue of wintry trees, passed a wooden building +which Peter was informed was the English military church, and out on to +the stone-paved quay. To Peter the drive was an intense delight. A French +blue-coated regiment swung past them. "Going up the line," said Jenks. A +crowd of black troops marched by in the opposite direction. "Good Lord!" +said Jenks, "so the S.A. native labour has come." The river was full of +craft, but his mentor explained that the true docks stretched mile on +mile downstream. By a wide bridge lay a camouflaged steamer. "Hospital +ship," said Jenks. Up a narrow street could be seen the buttresses of the +cathedral; and if Peter craned his head to glance up, his companion was +more occupied in the great café at the corner a little farther on. But +it was, of course, deserted at that early hour. A flower-stall at the +corner was gay with flowers, and two French peasant women were arranging +the blooms. And then the fiacre swung into the Rue Joanne d'Arc, and +opposite a gloomy-looking entrance pulled up with a jerk. "Here we are," +said Jenks. "It's up an infernal flight of steps." + +The officers' club in Rouen was not monstrously attractive, but they got +a good wash in a little room that looked out over a tangle of picturesque +roofs, and finally some excellent coffee and bacon and eggs. + +Jenks lit a cigarette and handed one to Peter. "Better leave your traps," +he said. "I'll go up with you; I've nothing to do." + +Outside the street was filling with the morning traffic, and the two +walked up the slight hill to the accompaniment of a running fire of +comments and explanations from Jenks, "That's Cox's--useful place for +the first half of a month, but not much use to me, anyway, for the +second.... You ought to go to I that shop and buy picture post-cards, +padre; there's a topping girl who sells 'em.... Rue de la Grosse +Horloge--you can see the clock hanging over the road. The street runs +up to the cathedral: rather jolly sometimes, but nothing doing +now.... What's that? I don't know. Yes, I do, Palais de Justice or +something of that sort. Pretty old, I believe.... In those gardens is the +picture gallery; not been in myself, but I believe they've got some good +stuff.... That's your show, over there. Don't be long; I'll hang about." + +Peter crossed the street, and, following directions ascended some wooden +stairs. A door round the corner at the top was inscribed "A.C.G. (C. of +E.)," and he went up to it. There he cogitated: ought one to knock, or, +being in uniform, walk straight in? He could not think of any reason +why one should not knock being in uniform, so he knocked. + +"Come in," said a voice. + +He opened the door and entered. At a desk before him sat a rather elderly +man, clean-shaven, who eyed him keenly. On his left, with his back to +him, was a man in uniform pattering away busily on a typewriter, and, for +the rest, the room contained a few chairs, a coloured print of the Light +of the World over the fireplace, and a torn map. Peter again hesitated. +He wondered what was the rank of the officer in the chair, and if he +ought to salute. While he hesitated, the other said: "Good-morning. What +can I do for you?" + +Peter, horribly nervous, made a half-effort at saluting, and stepped +forward. "My name's Graham, sir," he said. "I've just come over, and was +told in the C.G.'s office in London to report to Colonel Chichester, +A.C.G., at Rouen." + +The other put him at his ease at once. He rose and held a hand out over +the littered desk. "How do you do, Mr. Graham?" he said. "We were +expecting you. I am the A.C.G. here, and we've plenty for you to do. +Take a seat, won't you? I believe I once heard you preach at my brother's +place down in Suffolk. You were at St. Thomas's, weren't you, down by the +river?" + +Peter warmed to the welcome. It was strangely familiar, after the past +twenty-four hours, to hear himself called "Mr." and, despite the uniforms +and the surroundings, he felt he might be in the presence of a vicar in +England. Some of his old confidence began to return. He replied freely +to the questions. + +Presently the other glanced at his watch. "Well," he said, "I've got to +go over to H.Q., and you had better be getting to your quarters. Where +did I place Captain Graham, Martin?" + +The orderly at the desk leaned sideways and glanced at a paper pinned on +the desk. "No. 5 Rest Camp, sir," he said. + +"Ah, yes, I remember now. You can get a tram at the bottom of the street +that will take you nearly all the way. It's a pretty place, on the edge +of the country. You'll find about one thousand men in camp, and the +O.C.'s name is--what is it, Martin?" + +"Captain Harold, sir." + +"Harold, that's it. A decent chap. The men are constantly coming and +going, but there's a good deal to do." + +"Is there a chapel in the camp?" asked Peter. + +"Oh, no, I don't think so. You'll use the canteen. There's a quiet room +there you can borrow for celebrations. There's a P.O.W. camp next door +one way and a South African Native Labour Corps lot the other. But they +have their own chaplains. We'll let you down easy at first, but you might +see if you can fix up a service or so for the men in the forest. There's +a Labour Company out there cutting wood. Maybe you'll be able to get a +lift out in a car, but get your O.C. to indent for a bicycle if there +isn't one. Drop in and see me some day and tell me how you are getting +on, I'll find you some more work later on." + +Peter got up. The other held out his hand, which Peter took, and then, +remembering O.T.C. days at Oxford, firmly and, unblushingly saluted. The +Colonel made a little motion. "Good-bye," he said, and Peter found +himself outside the door. + +"No. 5 Rest. Camp;" said Jenks a moment later: "you're in luck, padre. +It's a topping camp, and the skipper is an awfully good sort. Beast of a +long way out, though. You'll have to have a taxi now." + +"The A.C.G. said a tram would do," said Peter. + +"Then he talked through his blooming hat," replied the other. "He's +probably never been there in his little life. It's two miles beyond the +tram terminus if it's a yard. My place is just across the river, and +there's a ferry that pretty well drops you there. Tell you what I'll do. +I'll see you down and then skip over." + +"What about your stuff, though?" queried Peter. + +"Oh? bless you, I can get a lorry to collect that. That's one use in +being A.S.C., at any rate." + +"It's jolly decent of you," said Peter. + +"Not a bit, old dear," returned the other. "You're the right sort, padre, +and I'm at a loose end just now. Besides, I'd like to see old Harold. +He's one of the best. Come on." + +They found a taxi this time, near the Gare du Vert, and ran quickly out, +first over cobbles, then down a wide avenue with a macadamised surface +which paralleled the river, downstream. + +"Main road to Havre," volunteered Jenks. "I've been through once or twice +with our stuff. It's a jolly pretty run, and you can lunch in Candebec +with a bit of luck, which is one of the beauty-spots of the Seine, you +know." + +The road gave on open country in a few miles, though there were camps +to be seen between it and the river, with wharves and buildings at +intervals, and ahead a biggish waterside village. Just short of that +they pulled up. A notice-board remarked "No. 5 Rest Camp," and Peter +saw he had arrived. + +The sun was well up by this time, and his spirits with it. The country +smiled in the clear light. Behind the camp fields ran up to a thick wood +through which wound a road, and the river was just opposite them. A +sentry came to attention as they passed in, sloped arms, and saluted. +Peter stared at him. "You ought to take the salute, padre," said Jenks; +"you're senior to me, you know." + +They passed down a regular street of huts, most of which had little +patches of garden before them in which the green of some early spring +flowers was already showing, and stopped before the orderly-room. Jenks +said he would look in and see if "the skipper" were inside, and in a +second or two came out with a red-faced, cheerful-looking man, whom +he introduced as Captain Harold. With them was a tall young Scots officer +in a kilt, whom Peter learned was Lieutenant Mackay of their mess. + +"Glad to see you, padre," said Harold. "Our last man wasn't up to much, +and Jenks says you're a sport. I've finished in there, so come on to the +mess and let's have a spot for luck. Come on, Scottie. Eleven o'clock's +all right for you, isn't it?" + +"Shan't say no," said the gentleman addressed, and they passed behind the +orderly-room and in at an open door. + +Peter glanced curiously round. The place was very cheerful--a fire +burning and gay pictures on the wall. "Rather neat, isn't it, padre?" +queried Harold. "By the way, you've got to dub up a picture. Everyone in +the mess gives one. There's a blank space over there that'll do nicely +for a Kirschner, if you're sport enough for that, Jenko'll show you where +to get a topper. What's yours, old son?" + +"Same as usual, skipper," said Jenks, throwing himself into a chair. + +Harold walked across to a little shuttered window and tapped. A man's +face appeared in the opening, "Four whiskies, Hunter--that's all right, +padre?" + +"Yes," said Peter, and walked to the fire, while the talk became general. + +"First time over?" queried Mackay. + +"Well, how's town?" asked Harold. "Good shows on? I ought to be due next +month, but I think I'll! wait a bit. Want to get over in the spring and +see a bit of the country too. What do they think of the war over there, +Jenko?" + +"It's going to be over by summer. There's a big push coming off this +spring, and Fritz can't stand much more. He's starving, and has no +reserves worth talking of. The East does not matter, though the doings +at Salonika have depressed them no end. This show's going to be won on +the West, and that quickly. Got it, old bean?" + +"Good old Blighty!" ejaculated Harold. "But they don't really believe all +that, do they, padre?" + +"They do," said Peter. "And, to tell you the truth, I wondered if +I'd be over in time myself. Surely the Yanks must come in and make +a difference." + +"This time next year, perhaps, though I doubt it. What do you think, +Scottie?" + +"Oh, ask another! I'm sick of it. Say, skipper, what about that run out +into the forest you talked of?" + +"Good enough. Would you care to go, padre? There's a wood-cuttin' crowd +out there, and I want to see 'em about firewood. There's a car possible +to-day, and we could all pack in." + +"Count me out," said Jenks. "I'll have to toddle over and report. Sorry, +all the same." + +"I'd love it," said Peter. "Besides, the A.C.G. said I was to look up +those people." + +"Oh, well done. It isn't a joy-ride at all, then. Have another, padre, +and let's get off. No? Well, I will. How's yours, Scottie?" + +Ten minutes later the three of them got into a big car and glided +smoothly off, first along the river, and then up a steep road into the +forest. Peter, fresh from London, lay back and enjoyed it immensely. He +had no idea Normandy boasted such woods, and the world looked very good +to him. It was all about as different from what he had imagined as it +could possibly have been. He just set himself to appreciate it. + +The forest was largely fir and pine, and the sunlight glanced down the +straight trunks and patterned on the carpet beneath. Hollies gleamed +green against the brown background, and in an open space of bare beech +trees the littered ground was already pricked with the new green of the +wild hyacinth. Now and again the rounded hills gave glimpses of the far +Normandy plain across the serpentine river, then would as suddenly close +in on them again until the car seemed to dart between the advancing +battalions of the forest as though to escape capture. At length, in +one such place, they leaped forward up a short rise, then rushed +swiftly downhill, swung round a corner, and came out on what had +become all but a bare tableland, set high so that one could see +distant valleys--Boscherville, Duclair--and yet bare, for the timber +had been all but entirely cut down. + +Five hundred yards along this road brought them to a small encampment. +There were some lines of Nysson huts, a canteen with an inverted triangle +for sign, some tents, great stacks of timber and of smaller wood, a few +lorries drawn up and silent, and, beyond, two or three buildings of wood +set down by themselves, with a garden in front, and a notice "Officers' +Quarters." Here, then, Captain Harold stopped the car, and they got out. +There were some jovial introductions, and presently the whole party set +off across the cleared space to where, in the distance, one could see +the edge of the forest. + +Peter did not want to talk, and dropped a little behind. Harold and the +O.C. of the forestry were on in front, and Mackay, with a junior local +officer, were skirmishing about on the right, taking pot-shots with small +chunks of wood at the stumps of trees and behaving rather like two +school-boys. + +The air was all heavy with resinous scent, and the carpet beneath soft +with moss and leaves and fragrant slips of pine. Here and there, on a +definite plan, a small tree had been spared, and when he joined the men +ahead, Peter learned how careful were the French in all this apparently +wholesale felling. In the forest, as they saw as they reached it, the +lines were numbered and lettered and in some distant office every +woodland group was known with its place and age. There are few foresters +like the French, and it was cheering to think that this great levelling +would, in a score of years, do more good than harm. + +Slowly biting into the untouched regiments of trees were the men, helped +in their work by a small power engine. The great trunks were lopped and +roughly squared here, and then dragged by motor traction to a slide, +which they now went to view. It was a fascinating sight. The forest ended +abruptly on a high hill, and below, at their feet, wound the river. Far +down, working on a wharf that had been constructed of piles driven into +the mud, was a Belgian detachment with German prisoners, and near the +wharf rough sheds housed the cutting plant. Where they stood was the +head of a big slide, with back-up sides, and the forest giants, brought +to the top from the place where they were felled, were levered over, to +swish down in a cloud of dust to the waiting men beneath. + +"Well, skipper, what about the firewood?" asked Harold as they stood +gazing. + +"How much do you want?" asked the O.C. Forestry. + +"Oh, well, what can you let me have? You've got stacks of odd stuff +about; surely you can spare a bit." + +"It's clean agin regulations, but could you send for it?" + +"Rather! There's an A.S.C. camp below us, and the men there promised me +a lorry if I'd share the spoils with them. Will that do?" + +"All right. When will you send up?" + +"What's to-day? Wednesday? How about Sunday? I could put some boys on to +load up who'd like the jaunt. How would Sunday do?" + +"Capital. My chaps work on all day, of course, and I don't want to give +them extra, so send some of yours." + +Peter listened, and now cut in. + +"Excuse me, sir," he said, "but I was told I ought to try and get a +service of some sort out here. Could I come out on the lorry and hold +one?" + +"Delighted, padre, of course. I'll see what I can do for you. About +eleven? Probably you won't get many men as there are usually inspection +parades and some extra fatigues on Sunday, but I'll put it in orders. We +haven't had a padre for a long time." + +"Eleven would suit me," said Peter, "if Captain Harold thinks the lorry +can get up here by that time. Will it, sir?" + +"Oh, I should think so, and, anyway, an hour or so won't make much +difference. If I can, I'll come with you myself. But, I say, we ought +to be getting back now. It will be infernally late for luncheon." + +"Come and have a drink before you start, anyway," said the O.C.; and he +led the way back to the camp and into an enclosure made of bushes and +logs in the rear of the mess, where rustic seats and a table had been +constructed under the shade of a giant oak. "It's rattling here in +summer," he said, "and we have most of our meals out of doors. Sit +down, won't you? Orderly!" + +"By Jove! you people are comfortable out here," said Harold. "Wish I had +a job of this sort." + +"Oh, I don't know, skipper; it would feed you up after a while, I think. +It's bally lonely in the evening, and we can't always get a car to town. +It's a damned nuisance getting out again, too." Then, as the orderly +brought glasses and a bottle: "Have a spot. It's Haig and Haig, Mackay, +and the right, stuff." + +"Jolly good, sir," said that worthy critically. "People think because +I don't talk broad Scots I'm no Highlander, but when it comes to the +whisky I've got a Scottish thirst. Say when, sir." + +Peter had another because he was warm with the sense of good comradeship, +and was warmer still when he climbed into the car ten minutes later. Life +seemed so simple and easy; and he was struck with the cheeriness of his +new friends, and the ready welcome to himself and his duty. He waved to +the O.C. "See you Sunday, sir," he called, out, "'bout eleven. You won't +forget to put it in orders, will you? Cheerio." + +"Let's go round by the lower road, skipper," said Mackay. "We can look +in at that toppin' little pub--what's its name, Croix something?--and +besides, the surface is capital down there." + +"And see Marie, eh? But don't forget you've got a padre aboard." + +"Oh, he's all right, and if he's going to be out here, it's time he knew +Marie." + +Graham laughed. "Carry on," he said. "It's all one to me where we go, +skipper." + +He lay back more comfortably than ever, and the big car leaped forward +through the forest, ever descending towards the river level. Soon the +trees thinned, and they were skirting ploughed fields. Presently they ran +through a little village, where a German prisoner straightened himself +from his work in a garden and saluted. Then through a wood which suddenly +gave a vista of an avenue to a stately house, turreted in the French +style, a quarter of a mile away; then over a little stream; then round a +couple of corners, past a dreamy old church, and a long immemorial wall, +and so out into the straight road along the river. The sun gleamed on the +water, and there were ships in view, a British and a couple of Norwegian +tramps, ploughing slowly down to the sea. On the far bank the level of +the land was low, but on this side only some narrow apple-orchards and +here and there lush water-meadows separated them from the hills. + +The Croix de Guerre stood back from the road in a long garden just where +a forest bridle-path wound down through a tiny village to the main road. +Their chauffeur backed the car all but out of sight into this path after +they climbed out, and the three of them made for a sidedoor in a high +wall. Harold opened it and walked in. The pretty trim little garden had +a few flowers in bloom, so sheltered was it, and Mackay picked a red +rosebud as they walked up the path. + +Harold led the way without ceremony into a parlour that opened off a +verandah, and, finding it empty, opened a door beyond. "Marie! Marie!" +he called. + +"Ah, Monsieur le Capitaine, I come," came a girl's voice, and Marie +entered. Peter noticed how rapidly she took them all in, and how cold +were the eyes that nevertheless sparkled and greeted Harold and Mackay +with seeming gaiety. She was short and dark and not particularly +good-looking, but she had all the vivacity and charm of the French. + +"Oh, monsieur, where have you been for so long? I thought you had +forgotten La Croix de Guerre altogether. It's the two weeks--no, +_three_--since you come here. The gentlemen will have déjeuner? And +perhaps a little aperitif before?" + +"Bon jour, Marie," began the Captain in clumsy French, and then abandoned +the attempt. "I could not come, Marie, you know. C'est la guerre. Much +work each day." + +"Ah, non, monsieur cannot cheat me. He had found another cafe and another +girl.... Non, non, monsieur, it is not correct;" and the girl drew +herself up with a curiously changed air as Harold clumsily reached out +towards her, protesting. "And you have a curé here--how do you say, a +chapelain?" and Marie beamed on Peter. + +The two officers looked at him and laughed. "What can I bring you, +Monsieur le Capitaine le Curé?" demanded the girl. "Vermuth? Cognac?" + +Mackay slipped from the edge of the table on which he had been sitting +and advanced towards her, speaking fluent French, with a curious +suggestion of a Scotch accent that never appeared in his English. Peter +watched with a smile on his face and a curious medley of feelings, while +the Lieutenant explained, that they could not stop to lunch, that they +would take three mixed vermuth, and that he would come and help her get +them. They went out together, Marie protesting, and Harold, lighting a +cigarette and offering one to Peter, said with a laugh: "He's the boy, is +Mackay. Wish I could sling the lingo like him. It's a great country, +padre." + +In a minute or two the pair of them came back, Marie was wearing the rose +at the point of the little _décolleté_ of her black dress, and was all +over smiles. She carried a tray with glasses and a bottle. Mackay carried +the other. With a great show, he helped her pour out, and chatted away in +French while they drank. + +Harold and Peter talked together, but the latter caught scraps of the +others' conversation. Mackay wanted to know, apparently, when she would +be next in town, and was urging a date on her. Peter caught "Rue Jeanne +d'Arc," but little more, and Harold was insistent on a move in a few +minutes. They skirmished at the door saying "Good-bye," but it was with +an increased feeling of the warmth and jollity of his new life that Peter +once more boarded the car. This time Mackay got in front and Harold +joined Graham behind. As they sped off, Peter said: + +"By Jove, skipper, you do have a good time out here!" + +Harold flicked off the ash of his cigarette. "So, so, padre," he said. +"But the devil's loose. It's all so easy; I've never met a girl yet who +was not out for a spree. Of course, we don't see anything of the real +French ladies, though, and this isn't the line. By God! when I think of +the boys up there, I feel a beast sometimes. But I can't help it; they +won't pass me to go up, and it's no use growling down here because of +it." + +"I suppose not," said Peter, and leaned back reflecting for the rest of +the way. He felt as if he had known these men all his days, and as if his +London life had been lived on another planet. + +After lunch he was given a cubicle, and spent an hour or two getting +unpacked. That done, just as he was about to sit down to a letter, there +came a knock at the door, and Mackay looked in. + +"You there, padre?" he asked. "There's a lorry going up to town that has +just brought a batch of men in: would you care to come? I've got to do +some shopping, and we could dine at the club and come back afterwards." + +Peter jumped up. "Topping," he said. "I want to get one or two things, +and I'd love it." + +"Come on, then," said the other. "I'll meet you at the gate in five +minutes." + +Peter got on his Sam Browne and went out, and after a bit Mackay joined +him. They jolted up to town, and went first to the Officers' Store at the +E.F.C. Mackay bought some cigarettes, and Peter some flannel collars and +a tie. Together the pair of them strolled round town, and put their heads +in at the cathedral at Peter's request. He had a vision of old grey stone +and coloured glass and wide soaring spaces, but his impatient companion +hauled him out. "Of course, you'll want to see round, padre," he said, +"but you can do it some other time and with somebody else. I've seen it +once, and that's enough for me. Let's get on to the club and book a +table; there's usually a fearful crowd." + +Peter was immensely impressed with the crowd of men, the easy greetings +of acquaintances, and the way in which one was ignored by the rest. He +was introduced to several people, who were all very cheerful, and in the +long dining-room they eventually sat down to table with two more officers +whom the Scotsman knew. Peter was rather taken with a tall man, slightly +bald, of the rank of Captain, who was attached to a Labour Corps. He had +travelled a great deal, and been badly knocked about in Gallipoli. In a +way, he was more serious than the rest, and he told Peter a good deal +about the sights of the town--the old houses and churches, and where was +the best glass, and so on. Mackay and the fourth made merry, and Mackay, +who called the W.A.A.C. waitress by her Christian name, was plainly +getting over-excited. Peter's friend was obviously a little scornful. +"You'll meet a lot of fools here, padre," he said, "old and young. The +other day I was having tea here when two old buffers came in--dug-outs, +shoved into some job or another--and they sat down at the table next +mine. I couldn't help hearing what they said. The older and fatter, a +Colonel, looked out of window, and remarked ponderously: + +"'By the way, wasn't Joan of Arc born about here?' + +"'No,' said the second; 'down in Alsace-Lorraine, I believe. She was +burnt here, and they threw her ashes into the Grand Pont.'" + +Peter laughed silently, and the other smiled at him. "Fact," he said. +"That's one type of ass, and the second is (dropping his voice) your +friend here and his like, if you don't mind my saying so. Look at him +with that girl now. Somebody'll spot it, and they'll keep an eye on him. +Next time he meets her on the sly he'll be caught out, and be up for it. +Damned silly fool, I think! The bally girl's only a waitress from Lyons." + +Peter glanced at Mackay. He was leaning back holding the menu, which she, +with covert glances at the cashier's desk, was trying to take away from +him. "Isobel," he said, "I say, come here--no, I really want to see +it--tell me, when do you get out next?" + +"We don't get no leave worth talking of, you know," she said. "Besides, +you don't mean it. You can't talk to me outside. Oh, shut up! I must go. +They'll see us," and she darted away. + +"Damned pretty girl, eh?" said Mackay contentedly. "Don't mind me, padre. +It's only a bit of a joke. Come on, let's clear out." + +The four went down the stairs together and stood in a little group at +the entrance-door. "Where you for now, Mac?" asked the second officer, +a subaltern of the West Hampshires. + +"Don't know, old sport. I'm with the padre. What you for, padre?" + +"I should think we had better be getting back," said Peter, glancing at +the watch on his wrist. "We've a long way to go." + +"Oh, hang it all, not yet! It's a topping evenin'. Let's stroll up the +street." + +Peter glanced at the Labour Corps Captain, who nodded, and they two +turned off together. "There's not much to do," he said. "One gets sick of +cinemas, and the music-hall is worse, except when one is really warmed up +for a razzle-dazzle. I don't wonder these chaps go after wine and women +more than they ought. After all, most of them are just loose from home. +You must make allowances, padre. It's human nature, you know." + +Peter nodded abstractedly. It was the second time he had heard that. +"It's all so jolly different from what I expected," he said meditatively. + +"I know," said the other. "Not much danger or poverty or suffering here, +seemingly. But you never can tell. Look at those girls: I bet you would +probably sum them up altogether wrongly if you tried." + +Peter glanced at a couple of French women who were passing. The pair were +looking at them, and in the light of a brilliantly lit cinema they showed +up clearly. The paint was laid on shamelessly; their costumes, made in +one piece, were edged with fur and very gay. Each carried a handbag and +one a tasselled stick. "Good-night, chérie," said one, as they passed. + +Peter gave a little shudder. "How ghastly!" he said. "How can anyone +speak to them? Are there many like that about?" He glanced back again: +"Why, good heavens," he cried, "one's Marie!" + +"Hullo, padre," said his friend, the ghost of a smile beginning about his +lips. "Where have you been? Marie! By Jove! I shall have to report you to +the A.C.G." + +Peter blushed furiously. "It was at an inn," he said, "this morning, as +we were coming back from the forest. But she seemed so much better then, +Mackay knew her; why, I heard him say...." + +He glanced back at the sudden recollection. The two girls were speaking +to the two others, twenty paces or so behind. "Oh," he exclaimed, "look +here!..." + +The tall Labour man slipped his arm in his and interrupted. "Come on, +padre," he said; "you can't do anything. Mackay's had a bit too much as +it is, and the other chap is looking for a night out. We'll stroll past +the cathedral, and I'll see you a bit of the way home." + +"But how damnable, how beastly!" exclaimed Peter. "It makes one +sick!..." He broke off, and the two walked on in silence. + +"Is there much of that?" Peter demanded suddenly. + +The other glanced at him. "You'll find out without my telling you," he +said; "but don't be too vehement till you've got your eyes open. There +are worse things." + +"There can't be," broke in Peter. "Women like that, and men who will go +with them, aren't fit to be called men and women. There's no excuse. It's +bestial, that's what it is." + +"You wouldn't speak to one?" queried the other. + +"Good heavens, no! Do you forget what I am?" + +"No, I don't, padre, but look here, I'm not a Christian, and I take a +common-sense view of these things, but I'm bound to say I think you're on +the wrong tack, too. Didn't Christ have compassion on people like that? +Didn't He eat and drink with publicans and sinners?" + +"Yes, to convert them. You can't name the two things in the same breath. +He had compassion on the multitude of hungry women and children and +misguided men, but He hated sin. You can't deny that." Peter recalled his +sermon; he was rather indignant, unreasonably, that the suggestion should +have been made. + +"So?" said the other laconically. "Well, you know more about it than +I do, I suppose. Come on; we go down here." + +They parted at the corner by the river again, and Peter set out for his +long walk home alone. It was a lovely evening of stars, cool, but not too +cold, and at first the streets were full of people. He kept to the curb +or walked in the road till he was out of the town, taking salutes +automatically, his thoughts far away. The little _cafés debits_ were +crowded, largely by Tommies. He was not accosted again, for he walked +fast, but he saw enough as he went. + +More than an hour later he swung into camp, and went to his room, lit a +candle, and shut the door. Tunic off, he sat on the edge of the camp-bed +and stared at the light. He seemed to have lived a year in a day, and he +felt unclean. He thought of Hilda, and then actually smiled, for Hilda +and this life seemed so incredibly far apart. He could not conceive of +her even knowing of its existence. Yet, he supposed, she knew, as he had +done, that such things were. He had even preached about them.... It +suddenly struck him that he had talked rot in the pulpit, talked of +things of which he knew nothing. Yet, of course, his attitude had been +right. + +He wondered if he should speak to Mackay, and, so wondering, fell forward +on his knees. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Hilda's religion was, like the religion of a great many Englishwomen of +her class, of a very curious sort. She never, of course, analysed it +herself, and conceivably she would object very strongly to the +description set down here, but in practical fact there is no doubt about +the analysis. To begin with, this conventional and charming young lady of +Park Lane had in common with Napoleon Bonaparte that Christianity meant +more to them both as the secret of social order than as the mystery of +the Incarnation. Hilda was convinced that a decent and orderly life +rested on certain agreements and conclusions in respect to marriage and +class and conduct, and that these agreements and conclusions were +admirably stated in the Book of Common Prayer, and most ably and +decorously advocated from the pulpit of St. John's. She would have said +that she believed the agreements and conclusions because of the Prayer +Book, but in fact she had primarily given in her allegiance to a social +system, and supported the Prayer Book because of its support of that. +Once a month she repeated the Nicene Creed, but only because, in the +nature of things, the Nicene Creed was given her once a month to repeat, +and she never really conceived that people might worry strenuously about +it, any more than she did. Being an intelligent girl, she knew, of +course, that people did, and occasionally preachers occupied the pulpit +of St. John's who were apparently quite anxious that she and the rest +of the congregation should understand that it meant this and not that, +or that and not this, according to the particular enthusiasm of the +clergyman of the moment. Sentence by sentence she more or less understood +what these gentlemen keenly urged upon her; as a whole she understood +nothing. She was far too much the child of her environment and age not +to perceive that Mr. Lloyd George's experiments in class legislation were +vastly more important. + +Peter, therefore, had always been a bit of an enigma to her. As a rule +he fitted in with the scheme of things perfectly well, for he was a +gentleman, he liked nice things, and he was splendidly keen on charity +organisation and the reform of abuses on right lines. But now and again +he said and did things which perturbed her. It was as if she had +gradually become complete mistress of a house, and then had suddenly +discovered a new room into which she peeped for a minute before it was +lost to her again and the door shut. It was no Bluebeard's chamber into +which she looked; it was much more that she had a suspicion that the room +contained a live mistress who might come out one day and dispute her own +title. She could tell how Peter would act nine times out of ten; she knew +by instinct, a great deal better than he did, the conceptions that ruled +his life; but now and again he would hesitate perplexedly as if at the +thought of something that she did not understand, or act suddenly in +response to an overwhelming flood of impulse whose spring was beyond her +control or even her surmise. Women mother all their men because men are +on the whole such big babies, but from a generation of babies is born +occasionally the master. Women get so used to the rule that they forget +the exception. When he comes, then, they are troubled. + +But this was not all Hilda's religion. For some mysterious reason this +product of a highly civilised community had the elemental in her. Men and +women both have got to eliminate all trace of sex before they can +altogether escape that. In other words, because in her lay latent the +power of birth, in which moment she would be cloistered alone in a dark +and silent room with infinity, she clung unreasonably and all but +unconsciously to certain superstitions which she shared with primitive +savages and fetish-worshippers. All of which seems a far cry from the War +Intercession Services at wealthy and fashionable St. John's, but it was +nothing more or less than this which was causing her to kneel on a high +hassock, elbows comfortably on the prayer-rail, and her face in her +hands, on a certain Friday evening in the week after Peter's arrival in +France, while the senior curate (after suitable pauses, during which her +mind was uncontrollably busy with an infinite number of things, ranging +from the doings of Peter in France to the increasing difficulty of +obtaining silk stockings), intoned the excellent stately English of +the Prayers set forth by Authority in Time of War. + +Two pews ahead of her knelt Sir Robert Doyle, in uniform. That simple +soldier was a bigger child than most men, and was, therefore, still +conscious of a number of unfathomable things about him, for the which +Hilda, his godchild, adored and loved him as a mother will adore her +child who sits in a field of buttercups and sees, not minted, nor +botanical, but heavenly gold. He was all the more lovable, because he +conceived that he was much bigger and stronger than she, and perfectly +capable of looking after her. In that, he was like a plucky boy who gets +up from his buttercups to tell his mother not to be frightened when a cow +comes into the field. + +They went out together, and greeted each other in the porch. +"Good-evening, child," said the soldier, with a smile. "And how's Peter?" + +Hilda smiled back, but after a rather wintry fashion, which the man was +quick to note. "I couldn't have told you fresh news yesterday," she said, +"but I had a letter this morning all about his first Sunday. He's at +Rouen at a rest camp for the present, though he thinks he's likely to be +moved almost at once; and he's quite well." + +"And then?" queried the other affectionately. + +"Oh, he doesn't know at all, but he says he doesn't think there's any +chance of his getting up the line. He'll be sent to another part where +there is likely to be a shortage of chaplains soon." + +"Well, that's all right, isn't it? He's in no danger at Rouen, at any +rate. If we go on as we're going on now, they won't even hear the guns +down there soon. Come, little girl, what's worrying you? I can see +there's something." + +They were in the street now, walking towards the park, and Hilda did not +immediately reply. Then she said: "What are you going to do? Can't you +come in for a little? Father and mother will be out till late, and you +can keep me company." + +He glanced at his watch. "I've got to be at the War Office later," he +said, "but my man doesn't reach town till after ten, so I will. The +club's not over-attractive these days. What with the men who think one +knows everything and won't tell, and the men who think they know +everything and want to tell, it's a bit trying." + +Hilda laughed merrily. "Poor Uncle Bob," she said, giving him her +childhood's name that had never been discontinued between them. "You +shall come home with me, and sit in father's chair, and have a still +decent whisky and a cigar, and if you're very good I'll read you part +of Peter's letter." + +"What would Peter say?" + +"Oh, he wouldn't mind the bits I'll read to you. Indeed, I think he'd +like it: he'd like to know what you think. You see, he's awfully +depressed; he feels he's not wanted out there, and--though I don't know +what he means--that things, religious things, you know, aren't real." + +"Not wanted, eh?" queried the old soldier. "Now, I wonder why he resents +that. Is it because he feels snubbed? I shouldn't be surprised if he had +a bit of a swelled head, your young man, you know, Hilda." + +"Sir Robert Doyle, if you're going to be beastly, you can go to your +horrid old club, and I only hope you'll be worried to death. Of course +it isn't that. Besides, he says everyone is very friendly and welcomes +him--only he feels that that makes it worse. He thinks they don't +want--well, what he has to give, I suppose." + +"What he has to give? But what in the world has he to give? He has to +take parade services, and visit hospitals and" (he was just going to say +"bury the dead," but thought it hardly sounded pleasant), "make himself +generally decent and useful, I suppose. That's what chaplains did when I +was a subaltern, and jolly decent fellows they usually were." + +"Well, I know. That's what I should feel, and that's what I don't quite +understand. I suppose he feels he's responsible for making the men +religious--it reads like that. But you shall hear the letter yourself." + +Doyle digested this for a while in silence. Then he gave a sort of snort, +which is inimitable, but always accompanied his outbursts against things +slightly more recent than the sixties. It had the effect of rousing +Hilda, at any rate. + +"Don't, you dear old thing," she said, clutching his arm. "I know +exactly what you're going to say. Young men of your day minded their +business and did their duty, and didn't theorise so much. Very likely. +But, you see, our young men had the misfortune to be born a little later +than you. And they can't help it." She sighed a little. "It _is_ trying +sometimes.... But they're all right really, and they'll come back to +things." + +They were at the gate by now. Sir Robert stood aside to let her pass. "I +know, dear," he said, "I'm an old fogey. Besides, young Graham has good +stuff in him--I always said so. But if he's on the tack of trying to +stick his fingers into people's souls, he's made a mistake in going to +France. I know Tommy--or I did know him. (The Lord alone knows what's in +the Army these days.) He doesn't want that sort of thing. He swears and +he grouses and he drinks, but he respects God Almighty more than you'd +think, and he serves his Queen--I mean his King. A parade service is a +parade, and it's a bore at times, but it's discipline, and it helps in +the end. Like that little 'do' to-night, it helps. One comes away feelin' +one can stand a bit more for the sake of the decent, clean things of +life." + +Hilda regarded the fine, straight old man for a second as they stood, on +the top of the steps. Then her eyes grew a little misty. "God bless you, +Uncle Bob," she said. "You _do_ understand." And the two went in +together. + +Hilda opened the door of the study. "I'm going to make you comfortable +myself," she said. She pulled a big armchair round; placed a reading-lamp +on a small table and drew it close; and she made the old soldier sit in +the chair. Then she unlocked a little cupboard, and got out a decanter +and siphon and glass, and a box of cigars. She placed these by his side, +and stood back quizzically a second. Then she threw a big leather cushion +at his feet and walked to the switches, turning off the main light and +leaving only the shaded radiance of the reading-lamp. She turned the +shade of it so that the light would fall on the letter while she sat +on the cushion, and then she bent down, kissed her godfather, and went +to the door. "I won't be a moment, Uncle Bob," she said. "Help yourself, +and get comfortable." + +Five minutes later the door opened and she came in. As she moved into +the circle of light, the man felt an absurd satisfaction, as if he were +partly responsible for the dignified figure with its beautifully waved +soft, fair hair, of which he was so proud. She smiled on him, and sat +down at his feet, leaning back against his chair and placing her left +elbow on his knees. He laid a caressing hand on her arm, and then looked +steadily in front of him lest he should see more than she wished. + +Hilda rustled the sheets. "The first is all about me," she explained, +"and I'll skip that. Let me see--yes, here we are. Now listen. It's +rather long, but you mustn't say anything till I've finished." + +"'Saturday' (Peter's letter ran) I gave up to getting ready for Sunday, +though Harold' (he's the O.C. of the camp, Peter says, a jolly decent +sort of man) 'wanted me to go up town with him. I had had a talk with him +about the services, and had fixed up to have a celebration in the morning +in the Y.M.C.A. in camp--they have a quiet room, and there is a table in +it that one puts against the wall and uses for an altar--and an evening +service in the canteen-hall part of the place. I couldn't have a morning +service, as I was to go out to the forest camp, as I have told you.' He +said in his first letter how he had been motored out to see a camp in the +forest where they are cutting wood for something, and he had fixed up a +parade," said Hilda, looking up. Doyle nodded gravely, and she went on +reading: "'Harold said he'd like to take Communion, and that I could put +up a notice in the anteroom of the Officers' Mess. + +"'Well, I spent the morning preparing sermons. I thought I'd preach from +"The axe is laid to the root of the tree" in the forest, and make a sort +of little parable out of it for the men. I planned to say how Christ was +really watching and testing each one of us, especially out here, and to +begin by talking a bit about Germany, and how the axe was being laid to +that tree because it wouldn't bear good fruit. I couldn't get much for +the evening, so I thought I'd leave it, and perhaps say much the same as +the morning, only differently introduced. I went and saw the hut manager, +a very decent fellow who is a Baptist minister at home, and he said he'd +like to come in the morning. Well, I didn't know what to say to that; I +hated to hurt him, and, of course, he has no Baptist chapel out here; but +I didn't know what the regulations might be, and excused myself on those +grounds. + +"'Then in the afternoon I went round the camp. Oh, Hilda, I was fearfully +nervous--I don't know why exactly, but I was. The men were playing "crown +and anchor," and sleeping, and cleaning kit (this is a rest camp you +know), and it seemed so cold-blooded somehow. I told them anyone could +come in the evening if he wanted to, but that in the morning the service +was for Church of England communicants. I must say I was very bucked up +over the result. I had no end of promises, and those who were going to be +out in the evening said so straight out. Quite thirty said they'd come in +the morning, and they were very respectful and decent. Then I wrote out +and put up my notices. The mess ragged a bit about it, but quite decently +("Here's the padre actually going to do a bit of work!" and the usual +"I shall be a chaplain in the next war!"); and I mentioned to one or two +whom I knew to be Church of England that Captain Harold had said he would +come to the early service. Someone had told me that if the O.C. of a camp +comes, the others often will. After dinner we settled down to bridge, +and about ten-thirty I was just going off to bed when Harold came in with +two or three other men. Well, I hate to tell you, dear, but I promised +I'd write, and, besides, I do want to talk to somebody. Anyway, he was +what they call "merry," and he and his friends were full of talk about +what they'd done up town. I don't know that it was anything very bad, but +it was awful to me to think that this chap was going to communicate next +day. I didn't know what to do, but I couldn't say anything then, and I +slipped off to bed as soon as I could. They made a huge row in the +anteroom for some time, but at last I got to sleep. + +"'Next morning I was up early, and got things fixed up nicely. At eight +o'clock _one man_ came rather sheepishly--a young chap I'd seen the day +before--and I waited for some five minutes more. Then I began. About the +Creed, Harold came in, and so we finished the service. Neither of them +seemed to know the responses at all, and I don't think I have ever felt +more miserable. However, I had done all I could do, and I let it go at +that. I comforted myself that I would get on better in the forest, where +I thought there was to be a parade. + +"'We got out about eleven o'clock, and I went to the O.C.'s hut. He +was sitting in a deck chair reading a novel. He jumped up when he saw +me, and was full of apologies. He'd absolutely forgotten I was coming, +and so no notice had been given, and, anyway, apparently it isn't the +custom in these camps to have ordered parade services. He sent for the +Sergeant-Major, who said the men were mostly cleaning camp, but he +thought he could get some together. So I sat and talked for about twenty +minutes, and then went over. The canteen had been opened, and there were +about twenty men there. They all looked as if they had been forced in, +except one, who turned out to be a Wesleyan, and chose the hymns out of +the Y.M.C.A. books in the place. They had mission hymns, and the only one +that went well was "Throw out the life-line," which is really a rather +ghastly thing. We had short Matins, and I preached as I had arranged. The +men sat stiffly and looked at me. I don't know why, but I couldn't work +up any enthusiasm and it all seemed futile. Afterwards I tried to talk to +this Wesleyan corporal. He was great on forming a choir to learn hymns, +and then I said straight out that I was new to this sort of work, and I +hoped what I had said was all right. He said: "Yes, sir, very nice, I'm +sure; but, if you'll excuse me, what the men need is converting." + +"'Said I: "What exactly do you mean by that, corporal?" + +"'"Well, sir," he said "they want to be led to put their trust in the +Lord and get right with God. There's many a rough lad in this camp, sir. +If you knew what went on, you'd see it." + +"I said that I had told them God was watching them, and that we had to +ask His daily help to live clean, honest lives, and truly repent of our +sins. + +"'"Yes, you did, sir," he said. "That's what I say, sir, it was very +nice; only somehow these chaps have heard that before. It don't grip, +sir. Now, we had a preacher in our chapel once...." And he went on to +tell me of some revival mission. + +"'Well, I went back to the O.C. He wanted me to have a drink, and I did, +for, to tell you the truth, I felt like it. Then I got back to camp. + +"'In the afternoon I went round the lines again. Hilda, I _wish_ I could +tell you what I felt. Everyone was decent enough, but the men would get +up and salute as I came up, and by the very sound of their voices you +could tell how their talk changed as soon as they saw me. Mind you, they +were much more friendly than men at home, but I felt all the time out of +touch. They didn't want me, and somehow Christ and the Gospel seemed a +long way off. However, we had the evening service. The hut was fairly +full, which pleased me, and I preached a much more "Gospel" address than +in the morning. Some officers came, and then afterwards two or three of +us went out for a stroll and a talk. + +"'Among these officers was a tall chap I had met at the club, named +Langton. He had come down to see somebody in our mess, and had come on to +service. He is an extraordinarily nice person, different from most, a man +who thinks a lot and controls himself. He did most of the talking, and +began as we strolled up the hill. + +"'"Padre," he said, "how _does_ Christ save us?" + +"'I said He had died to obtain our forgiveness from God, and that, if we +trusted in Him, He would forgive and help us to live nobler and manlier +lives. (Of course, I said much more, but I see plainly that that is what +it all comes to.) + +"'When I had done, he walked on for a bit in silence, and then he said, +"Do you think the men understand that?" + +"'I said I thought and hoped they might. It was simple enough. + +"'"Well," he said, "it's hopeless jargon to me. If I try to analyse it, +I am knocked out right and left by countless questions; but leave that. +It is when I try to take you practically at your word that I find you are +mumbling a fetish. Forgive me, but it is so." + +"'I was a little annoyed and very troubled. "Do explain," I said. + +"'"All right, only you mustn't mind if I hurt you," he said. "Take _Trust +in Christ_--well, that either means that a man gets intoxicated by an +idea which does control his life, just as it would if he were intoxicated +by the idea _Trust in Buddha_, or else it comes to nothing. I can't +really trust in a dead man, or a man on the right hand of the throne of +God. What Tommy wants is a pal to lean on in the canteen and the street. +He wants somebody more real and more lovable and more desirable than the +girl who tempts him into sin. And he can't be found. Was he in your +service to-night? Can he be emotionally conjured up by 'Yield not to +temptation' or 'Dare to be a Daniel'? Be honest, padre--the thing is a +spectre of the imagination." + +"'I was absolutely silent. He went on: + +"'"You make much talk of sin and forgiveness. Well, Tommy doesn't +understand what you mean by sin. He is confused to bits about it; but +the main thing that stands out is that a man may break all the Ten +Commandments theologically and yet be a rattling good pal, as brave as +a lion, as merry as a cricket, and the life and soul and _Christ_ of a +platoon. That's the fact, and it is the one thing that matters. But there +is another thing: if a man sins, how is he to get forgiveness? What sort +of a God is it Who will wipe the whole blessed thing out because in a +moment of enthusiasm the sinner says he is sorry? If that's all sin is, +it isn't worth worrying about, and if that is all God is, He's not got +the makings of a decent O.C." + +"'"Good for you, skipper," said the other man. + +"'Langton rounded on him. "It isn't good for me or for anyone," he said. +"And I'll tell you what, my boy: all that I've said doesn't justify a man +making a beast of himself, which is what the majority of us do. I can see +that a man may very wisely get drunk at times, but he's a ---- fool to +get himself sodden with drink." (And he went on to more, Hilda, that I +can't write to you.) + +"'Well, I don't know what I said. I went back utterly miserable. Oh, +Hilda, I think I never ought to have come out here. Langton's right in a +way. We clergy have said the same thing so often that we forget how it +strikes a practical common-sense man. But there must be an answer +somewhere, if I only knew it. Meantime I'm like a doctor among the dying +who cannot diagnose the disease. I'm like a salesman with a shop full of +goods that nobody wants because they don't fulfil the advertisement. And +I never felt more utterly alone in my life. + +"'These men talk a different language from mine; they belong to another +world. They are such jolly good fellows that they are prepared to accept +me as a comrade without question, but as for my message, I might as well +be trying to cure smallpox by mouthing sonorous Virgil--only it is worse +than that, for they no longer even believe that the diagnosis is what I +say. And what gets over me is that they are, on the whole, decent chaps. +There's Harold--he's probably immoral and he certainly drinks too much, +but he's as unselfish as possible, and I feel in my bones he'd do +anything to help a friend. + +"'Of course, I hate their vices. The sights in the streets make me feel +positively sick. I wouldn't touch what they touch with a stick. When I +think of you, so honest and upright and clean....' Oh, but I needn't read +that, Uncle Bob." She turned over a page or so. "I think that's all. +No, just this: + +"'I've been made mess secretary, and I serve out coffee in the canteen +for a couple of hours every other day. That's about all there is to do. I +wish to Heaven I had an ordinary commission!" + +The girl's voice ceased with a suspicious suddenness, and the man's +hand tightened on her arm. For a minute they remained so, and then, +impulsively and unrestrained, she half-turned and sobbed out against his +knees: + +"Oh, Uncle Bob, I'm so unhappy! I feel so sorry for him. And--and--the +worst is, I don't really understand.... I don't see what worries him. Our +religion is good enough, I'm sure. Oh, I _hate_ those beasts of men out +there! Peter's too good for them. I wish he'd never gone. I feel as if +he'd never come back!" + +"There, there, my dear," said the old soldier, uncomfortably. "Don't take +on so. He'll find his feet, you know. It's not so bad as that. You can +trust him, can't you?" + +She nodded vigorously. "But what do _you_ think of it all?" she demanded. + +Sir Robert Doyle cleared his throat. "Well," he began, but stopped. To +him it was an extraordinarily hard thing to speak of religion, partly +because he cherished so whole-heartedly what he had got, and partly +because he had never formulated it, probably for that very reason. Sir +Robert could hardly have told his Maker what he believed about Him. When +he said the Creed he always said it with lowered voice and bowed head, as +one who considered very deeply of the matter, but in fact he practically +never considered at all.... + +"Well," he began again, "you see, dear, it's a strange time out there, +and it is a damned unpleasant age, if you'll excuse me. People can't take +anything these days without asking an infernal number of questions. Some +blessed Socialist'll begin to ask why a man should love his mother next, +and, not getting a scientific answer, argue that one shouldn't. As for +the men, they're all right, or they used to be. 'Love the Brotherhood. +Fear God. Honour the King'--that's about enough for you and me, I take +it, and Graham'll find it's enough for him. And he'll play the game, and +decent men will like him and get--er--helped, my dear. That's all there +is to it. But it's a pity," added the old Victorian Regular, "that these +blessed labour corps, and rest camps, and all the rest of it, don't have +parade services. The boy's bound to miss that. I'm hanged if I don't +speak about it!... And that reminds me.... Good Lord, it's ten o'clock! +I must go." + +He started up, Hilda rose, smiling a little. + +"That's better," said the old fellow; "must be a man, what? It's all a +bit of the war, you know." + +"Oh, Uncle Bob, you _are_ a dear. You do cheer one up, somehow. I wish +men were more like you." + +"No, you don't, my dear, don't you think it. I'm a back number, and you +know it, as well as any." + +"You're not, Uncle Bob. I won't have you say it. Give me a kiss and say +you don't mean it." + +"Well, well, Hilda, there is life in the old dog yet, and I must be off +and show it. No, I won't have another, not before duty. Good-night, dear, +and don't worry." + +Hilda saw him off, and waved her hand from the door. Then she went back +slowly to the study and looked round. She stood a few moments and then +switched off the lights, and went out and slowly upstairs. The maid was +in the bedroom, and she dismissed her, keeping her face turned away. In +front of her glass, she held her letter irresolutely a moment, and then +folded it and slipped it into a drawer. She lifted a photo from the +dressing-table and looked at it for a few minutes earnestly. Then she +went to her window, threw it up, and leaned on the sill, staring hard +over the dark and empty park. + +Outside, the General walked some distance before he found a taxi. He +walked fast for a man of his age, and ruminated as he went. It was his +way, and the way of his kind. Most of the modern sciences left him +unmoved, and although he would vehemently have denied it, he was the +most illogical of men. He held fast by a few good, sound, old-fashioned +principles, and the process of thought, to him, meant turning over a new +thing until he had got it into line with these principles. It was an +excellent method as far as it went, and it made him what he was--a +thoroughly sound and dependable servant of the State in any routine +business. + +At the War Office he climbed more slowly up the steps and into the lobby. +An officer was just coming out, and they recognised each other under the +shaded lights. "Hullo, Chichester, what are you doing here?" demanded +Doyle heartily. "Thought you were in France." + +"So I was, up to yesterday. I've just arrived. Orders." + +"Where have you been?" + +"Rouen. It's a big show now. Place full of new troops and mechanics in +uniform. To tell you the truth, Doyle, the Army's a different proposition +from what it was when you and I were in Egypt and India. But that's a +long time ago, old friend." + +"Rouen, eh? Now, that's a coincidence. A young chap I know has just gone +there, in your department. Graham--Peter Graham. Remember him?" + +"Oh, quite well. A very decent chap, I thought. Joined us ten days ago or +so. What about it? I forget for the moment where we put him." + +"Oh, nothing, nothing. He'll find his feet all right. But what's this +about no parade services these days?" + +"No parade services? We have 'em all right, when we can. Of course, it +depends a bit on the O.C., and in the Labour Corps especially it isn't +usually possible. It isn't like the line, old fellow, and even the line +isn't what we knew it. You can't have parade services in trenches, and +you can't have them much when the men are off-loading bully beef or +mending aeroplanes and that sort of thing. This war's a big proposition, +and it's got to go on. Why? Young Graham grousing?" + +"No, no--oh, no," hastily asserted Doyle, the soul of honour. "No, not at +all. Only mentioned not getting a parade, and it seemed to me a pity. +There's a lot in the good old established religion." + +"Is there?" said the other thoughtfully. "I'm not so sure to-day. The men +don't like being ordered to pray. They prefer to come voluntarily." + +Doyle got fierce. "Don't like being ordered, don't they? Then what the +deuce are they there for? Good Lord, man! the Army isn't a debating +society or a mothers' meeting. You might as well have voluntary games +at a public school!" + +The A.C.G. smiled. "That's it, old headstrong! No, my boy, the Army isn't +a mothers' meeting--at any rate, Fritz doesn't think so. But times have +changed, and in some ways they're better. I'd sooner have fifty men at a +voluntary service than two hundred on a parade." + +"Well, I wouldn't," exploded Doyle. "I know your voluntary +services--Moody and Sankey hymns on a Sunday night. The men had better +be in a decent bar. But turn 'em out in the morning, clean and decent +on parade, and give 'em the old service, and it'll tighten 'em up and +do 'em good. Voluntary service! You'll have volunteer evangelists +instead of Army chaplains next!" + +Colonel Chichester still smiled, but a little grimly. "We've got them," +he said. "And no doubt there's something in what you say; but times +change, and the Church has got to keep abreast of the times. But, look +here, I must go. What about a luncheon? I've not got much leave." + +"So must I; I've an appointment," said Doyle. "But all right, old friend, +to-morrow at the club. But you're younger than I, Chichester, or perhaps +you parsons don't get old as quickly!" + +They shook hands and parted. Sir Robert was busy for an hour, and came +out again with his head full of the proposed plans for the aerial defence +of London. "Taxi, sir?" he was asked at the door. "No," he replied; "I'll +walk home." + +"Best way to think, walking at night," he said to himself as he turned +down Whitehall, through the all but empty streets, darkened as they were. +The meaning of those great familiar spaces struck him as he walked. +Hardly formulating it, he became aware of a sense of pride and +responsibility as he passed scene after scene of England's past glory. +The old Abbey towered up in the moonlight, solemn and still, but almost +as if animate and looking at him. He felt small and old as he passed into +Victoria Street. There the Stores by night made him smile at the +contrast, but in Ashley Gardens Westminster Cathedral made him frown. If +he hated anything, it was that for which it stood. Romanism meant to him +something effeminate, sneaking, monstrous.... That there should be +Englishmen to build such a place positively angered him. He was not +exactly a bigot or a fanatic; he would not have repealed the Emancipation +Acts; and he would have said that if anyone wanted to be a Romanist, +he had better be one. But he would not have had time for anyone who did +so want, and if he should have had to have by any chance dealings with a +priest, he would have been so frigidly polite that the poor fellow would +probably have been frozen solid. Of course, Irishmen were different, +and he had known some capital fellows, Irish priests and chaplains.... + +And then he saw two men ahead of him. They were privates on leave and +drunk, but not hopelessly drunk. They were trying to negotiate the blank +of the entrance to the Catholic Soldiers' Hut in the protecting wall +which guarded the pavement just beyond the cathedral. As Sir Robert came +within earshot, one of them stumbled through it and collapsed profanely. +He halted for a second irresolutely, with the officer's hesitancy at +meddling with a drunken man. + +The fellow on the ground tried to raise himself, and got one elbow on the +gravel. This brought him into such a position that he stared straight at +the illuminated crucifix across the path, and but little farther in. + +"Lor', blimey, Joe," he said, "I'm blasted drunk, I am! Thought I was in +old Wipers, I did, and see one of them blessed cru-crushifixes!" + +The other, rather less away, pulled at his arm. "So yer did, ole pal," he +said. "It's there now. This 'ere's some Cartholic place or other. Come +_hon_." + +"Strike me dead, so it is, Joe, large as life! Christ! oo'd 'ave thought +it? A bloody cru-cru-chifix! Wat's old England comin' to, Joe?" And with +drunken solemnity he began to make a sign of the cross, as he had seen it +done in Belgium. + +The other, in the half-light, plainly started. "Shut your bloody jaw, +'Enery," he said, "It's bad luck to swear near a cruchifix. I saw three +chaps blotted out clean next second for it, back behind Lar Basay. Come +on, will yer? We carn't stay 'ere all the blasted night." + +"You are down on a chap, you are," said the other. "_Hi_ don't mean no +'arm. '_E_ ought to know that, any'ow." He got unsteadily to his feet. +"'E died to save us, 'E did. I 'eard a Y.M.C.A. bloke say them very +words, 'E died on the cru-cru-chifix to save us." + +"'Ere, cheese it, you fool! We'll have somebody out next. Come away with +yer. I've got some Bass in my place, if we git there." + +At this the other consented to come. Together they staggered out, not +seeing Sir Robert, and went off down the street, "'Enery" talking as they +went. The General stood and listened as the man's voice died down. + +"Good for yer, old pal. But 'E died to save us _hall_, 'E did. Made a +bloomer of it, I reckon. Didn't save us from the bloody trenches--not as +I can see, any'ow. If that chap could 'ave told us 'ow to get saved from +the blasted rats an' bugs an'...." + +Sir Robert pulled himself together and walked away sharply. By the +cathedral the carven Christ hung on in the wan yellow light, very still. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Peter lay on a home-made bed between the blankets and contemplated the +ceiling while he smoked his first cigarette. He had been a fortnight at +Rouen, and he was beginning to feel an old soldier--that is to say, he +was learning not to worry too much about outside things, and not to show +he worried particularly about the interior. He was learning to stand +around and smoke endless cigarettes; to stroll in to breakfast and out +again, look over a paper, sniff the air, write a letter, read another +paper, wander round the camp, talk a lot of rubbish and listen to more, +and so do a morning's work. Occasionally he took a service, but his real +job was, as mess secretary, to despatch the man to town for the shopping +and afterwards go and settle the bills. Just at present he was wondering +sleepily whether to continue ordering fish from the big merchants, Biais +Frères et Cie, or to go down to the market and choose it for himself. It +was a very knotty problem, because solving it in the latter way meant +getting up at once. And his batman had not yet brought his tea. + +There came a knock at the door, and the tea came in. With it was a folded +note. "Came last night, sir, but you was out," said the man. He collected +his master's tunic and boots, and departed. + +Peter opened the note and swore definitely and unclerically when he had +read it. It was from some unknown person, who signed himself as Acting +Assistant Chaplain-General, to the effect that he was to be moved to +another base, and that as the A.C.G. was temporarily on leave, he had +better apply to the Colonel of his own group for the necessary movement +order. On the whole this was unintelligible to Peter, but he was already +learning that there was no need to worry about that, for somebody would +be able to read the riddle. What annoyed him was the fact that he had got +to move just as he was settling down. It was certainly a matter for +another cigarette, and as he lit it he perceived one gleam of sunshine: +he need worry no more about the fish. + +Peter waited till Harold had finished his breakfast before he imparted +the news to the world a couple of hours or so later. "I say, skipper," he +said, "I've got to quit." + +"What, padre? Oh, hang it all, no, man! You've only just taken on the +mess secretary's job, and you aren't doing it any too badly either. You +can't go, old dear." + +"I must. Some blighter's written from the A.C.G.'s office, and I've got +to get a movement order from the Colonel of the group, whatever that +means. But I suppose you can put me straight about that, anyway." + +"Sure thing. Come up to the orderly-room 'bout eleven, and you can fill +up the chit and I'll fire it in for you. It's only a matter of form. It +goes through to Colonel Lear at La Croisset. Where to?" + +Peter told him moodily. + +"Eh?" said Harold. "Well, you can cheer up about that. Havre's not at all +a bad place. There are some decent shows about there and some very decent +people. What you got to do?" + +"I don't know; I suppose I shall find out when I get there. But I don't +care what it's like. It's vile having to leave just now, when I'm getting +straight. And what'll you do for a four at bridge?" + +Harold got up and fumbled in his pockets. As usual, there was nothing +there. "Why that damned batman of mine won't put my case in my pocket I +can't think," he said. "I'll have to fire the blighter, though he is T.T. +and used to be a P. and O. steward. Give me a fag, somebody. Thanks. +Well, padre, it's no use grousing. It's a beastly old war, and you're in +the blinkin' British Army, me lad. Drop in at eleven, then. Cheerio till +then." + +At eleven Peter found Harold signing papers. He glanced up. "Oh, +sergeant," he said, "give Captain Graham a Movement Order Application +Form, will you? Sit down, padre; there's a pen there." + +Peter wrestled with the form, which looked quite pretty when it was done. +Harold endorsed it. "Fire this through to the orderly-room, 10th Group, +sergeant," he said, and rose wearily. "Come along, padre," he said: "I've +got to go round the camp, and you can come too, if you've nothing better +to do." + +"When'll I have to go, do you think?" asked Peter as they went out. + +"Oh, I don't know. In a day or two. You'll have to hang about, for the +order may come any time, and I don't know how or when they'll send you." + +Peter did hang about, for ten days, with his kit packed. His recently +acquired calm forsook him about the sixth day, and on the tenth he was +entirely mutinous. At lunch he voiced his grievances to the general mess. + +"Look here, you men," he said, "I'm fed up to the back teeth. I've hung +round this blessed camp for more than a week waiting for that infernal +movement order, and I'm hanged if I'm going to stay in any more. It's a +topping afternoon. Who'll come down the river to La Bouille, or whatever +it is called?" + +Harold volunteered. "That's a good line, padre. I want to go there +myself. Are the boats running now?" + +"Saw 'em yesterday," volunteered somebody, and it was settled. + +The two of them spent a decent afternoon on the river, and at Harold's +insistence went on back right up to town. They dined and went to a +cinema, and got back to camp about midnight. Graham struck a match and +looked at the board in the anteroom. "May as well see if there is +anything for me," he said. There was, of course. He tore the envelope +open. "Good Lord, skipper!" he said. "Here's my blessed movement order, +to report at the Gare du Vert at eight p.m. this very day. I'm only four +hours too late. What the dickens shall I do?" + +Harold whistled. "Show it me," he said. "'The following personnel to +report at Gare du Vert ... at 8 p.m. 28th inst'" he read. "You're for it, +old bird," he continued cheerfully. "But what rot! Look here, it was +handed in to my orderly-room at six-thirty. You'd have hardly had time to +get there at any rate." + +Graham looked over his shoulder. "That's so," he said. "But what'll I do +now?" + +"Haven't a notion," said the other, "except that they'll let you know +quick enough. Don't worry--that's the main thing. If they choke you off, +tell 'em it came too late to get to the station." + +Peter meditated this in silence, and in some dismay. He saw visions of +courts-martial, furious strafing, and unholy terrors. He was to be +forgiven, for he was new to comic opera; and besides, when a page of +_Punch_ falls to one in real life, one hardly realises it till too late. +But it was plain that nothing could be done that night, and he went to +bed with what consolation he could derive from the cheerful Harold. + +Next morning his breakfast was hardly over when an orderly came in. +Harold had been earlier than usual, and had finished and gone out. +"Captain Graham, sir?" queried the man. "Captain Harold's compliments, +and a telephone message has just come in that you are to report to H.Q. +10th Group as quickly as possible." + +Peter brushed himself up, and outwardly cheerful but inwardly quaking, +set off. Half an hour's walk brought him to the place, a little office +near a wharf in a tangle of trolley lines. He knocked, went in, came to +attention, and saluted. + +Colonel Lear was a short, red-faced, boorish fellow, and his Adjutant sat +beside him at the desk, for the Colonel was not particularly well up in +his job. The Adjutant was tall, slightly bald, and fat-faced, and he +leaned back throughout the interview with an air of sneering boredom, +only vouchsafing laconic replies to his superior's occasional questions. +Peter didn't know which he hated the more; but he concluded that whereas +he would like to cut the Colonel in Regent Street, he would enjoy +shooting the Adjutant. + +"Ah!" said the Colonel. "Are you Captain Graham? Well, sir, what's the +meaning of this? You applied for a movement order, and one was sent you, +and you did not report at the station. You damned padres think you can do +any bally thing you choose! Out here for a picnic, I suppose. What is the +meaning of it?" + +"Well, sir," said Peter, "I waited ten days for the order and it did not +come. At last I went out for the afternoon, and got back too late to +execute it. I'm very sorry, but can't I go to-day instead?" + +"Good God, sir! do you think the whole British Army is arranged for your +benefit? Do you think nobody has anything else to do except to arrange +things to suit your convenience? We haven't got troopers with Pullman +cars every day for the advantage of you chaplains, though I suppose you +think we ought to have. Supposing you did have to wait, what about it? +What else have you to do? You'd have waited fast enough if it was an +order to go on leave; that's about all you parsons think about. _I_ don't +know what you can do. What had he better do, Mallony?" + +The Adjutant leaned forward leisurely, surveying Peter coolly. + +"Probably he'd better report to the R.T.O., sir," he said. + +"Oh, very well. It won't be any good, though. Go up to the R.T.O. and ask +him what you can do. Here's the order." (He threw it across the table, +and Peter picked it up, noting miserably the blue legend, "Failed to +Report--R.T.O., Gare du Vert.") "But don't apply to this office again. +Haven't you got a blessed department to do your own damned dirty work?" + +"The A.C.G.'s away, sir," said Peter. + +"On leave, I suppose. Wish to God I were a padre, eh, Mallony? Always on +leave or in Paris, and doin' nothing in between.... Got those returns, +sergeant?... What in hell are you waiting for, padre?" + +For the first time in his life Peter had an idea of what seeing red +really means. But he mastered it by an effort, saluted without a word, +and passed out. + +In a confused whirl he set off for the R.T.O., and with a sinking heart +reached the station, crowded with French peasantry, who had apparently +come for the day to wait for the train. Big notices made it impossible to +miss the Railway Transport Officer. He passed down a passage and into an +office. He loathed and hated the whole wide world as he went in. + +A young man, smoking a cigarette and reading a magazine, glanced +up at him. Peter observed in time that he had two stars only on his +shoulder-strap. Before he could speak, the other said cheerily: "Well, +padre, and what can I do for you?" + +Peter deprecatingly told him. He had waited ten days, etc., and had at +last gone out, and the movement order had come with... + +The other cut him short: "Oh, you're the chap who failed to report, are +you? Blighted rotters they are at these Group H.Q.'s. Chuck us over the +chit." + +Peter brightened up and obeyed. The other read it. "I know," ventured +Peter, "but I got the dickens of a strafe from the Colonel. He said he +had no idea when I could get away, and had better see you. What can I +do?" + +"Silly old ass! You'd better go to-night. There are plenty of trains, +and you're all alone, aren't you? I might just alter the date, but I +suppose now you had better go to his nibs the Deputy Assistant Officer +controlling Transport. He's in the Rue de la Republique, No. 153; you can +find it easily enough. Tell him I sent you. He'll probably make you out +a new order." + +Peter felt enormously relieved. He relaxed, smiled, and got out a +cigarette, offering the other one. "Beastly lot of fuss they make +over nothing, these chaps," he said. + +"I know," said the R.T.O.; "but they're paid for it, my boy, and probably +your old dear had been strafed himself this morning. Well, cheerio; see +you again to-night. Come in time, and I'll get you a decent place." + +The great man's office was up two flights of wooden stairs in what looked +like a deserted house. But Peter mounted them with an easy mind. He had +forgiven Lear, and the world smiled. He still didn't realise he was +acting in _Punch_. + +Outside a suitably labelled door he stood a moment, listening to a +well-bred voice drawling out sarcastic orders to some unfortunate. Then, +with a smile he entered. A Major looked up at him, and heard his story +without a word. Peter got less buoyant as he proceeded, and towards the +end he was rather lame. A silence followed. The great man scrutinised +the order. "Where were you?" he demanded at last, abruptly. + +It was an awkward question. Peter hedged. "The O.C. of my camp asked me +to go out with him," he said at last, feebly. + +The other picked up a blue pencil and scrawled further on the order. +"We've had too much of this lately," he said icily. "Officers appear to +think they can travel when and how they please. You will report to the +D.A.Q.M.G. at Headquarters, 3rd Echelon." He handed the folded order +back, and the miserable Peter had a notion that he meant to add: "And +God have mercy on your soul." + +He ventured a futile remonstrance. "The R.T.O. said you could perhaps +alter the date." + +The Major leaned back and regarded him in silence as a remarkable +phenomenon such as had not previously come his way. Then he sighed, +and picked up a pen. "Good-morning," he said. + +Peter, in the street, contemplated many things, including suicide. If +Colonel Chichester had been in Rouen he would have gone there; as it was, +he did not dare to face that unknown any more than this other. In the end +he set out slowly for H.Q., was saluted by the sentry under the flag, +climbed up to a corridor with many strangely labelled doors, and finally +entered the right one, to find himself in a big room in which half a +dozen men in uniform were engaged at as many desks with orderlies moving +between them. A kind of counter barred his farther passage. He stood at +it forlornly for a few minutes. + +At last an orderly came to him, and he shortly explained his presence and +handed in the much-blued order. The man listened in silence, asked him to +wait a moment, and departed. Peter leaned on the counter and tried to +look indifferent. With a detached air he studied the Kirschner girls on +the walls. These added a certain air to the otherwise forlorn place, but +when, a little later, W.A.A.C.'s were installed, a paternal Government +ordered their removal. But that then mattered no longer to Peter. + +At the last the orderly came back. "Will you please follow me, sir?" he +said. + +Peter was led round the barrier like a sheep to execution, and in +at a small door. He espied a General Officer at a desk by the window, +telephone receiver in one hand, the fateful order in the other. He +saluted. The other nodded. Peter waited. + +"Ah, yes! D.A.Q.M.G. speaking. That 10th Group Headquarters? Oh yes; +good-morning, Mallony. About Captain Graham's movement order. When was +this order applied for at your end?... What? Eighteenth? Humph! What time +did your office receive it?... Eh? Ten a.m.? Then, sir, I should like to +know what it was doing in your office till six p.m. This officer did not +receive it till six-thirty. What? He was out? Yes, very likely, but it +reached his mess at six-thirty: it is so endorsed.... Colonel Lear has +had the matter under consideration? Good. Kindly ask Colonel Lear to come +to the telephone." + +He leaned back, and glanced up at Graham, taking him in with a grave +smile. "I understand you waited ten days for this, Captain Graham," he +said. "It's disgraceful that it should happen. I am glad to have had an +instance brought before me, as we have had too many cases of this sort of +thing lately...." He broke off. "Yes? Colonel Lear? Ah, good-morning, +Colonel Lear. This case of the movement order of Captain Graham has just +been brought to me. This officer was kept waiting ten days for his order, +and then given an impossibly short time to report. Well, it won't do, +Colonel. There must be something very wrong in your orderly-room; kindly +see to it. Chaplains have other things to do than sit around in camps +waiting the convenience of Group Headquarters. The application for this +order reached us on the 27th, and was sent off early next morning, in +ample time for the officer to travel. I am very displeased about it. You +will kindly apply at once for a fresh order, and see that it is in +Captain Graham's hands at least six hours before he must report. That +is all. Good-morning." + +Peter could hardly believe his ears, but he could barely keep a straight +face either. The D.A.Q.M.G. hung up the receiver and repeated the latter +part of the message. Peter thanked him and departed, walking on air. A +day later an orderly from the group informed him at 11 a.m. that the +order had been applied for and might be expected that day, and at 1 +o'clock he received it. Such is the humour of the high gods who control +the British Army. But he never saw Colonel Lear again, and was thankful. + +Peter reached his new base, then, early in March in a drizzle of rain. He +was told his camp and set off to find it, and for an hour walked through +endless docks, over innumerable bridges, several of which, being open to +admit and let out ships, caused him pretty considerable delay. It was a +strange, new experience. The docks presented types of nearly every +conceivable nationality and of every sort of shipping. French marines and +seamen were, of course everywhere, but so were Chinese, South African +natives, Egyptians, Senegalese, types of all European nationalities, +a few of the first clean, efficient-looking Americans in tight-fitting +uniforms, and individual officers of a score of regiments. + +The old town ended in a row of high, disreputable-looking houses that +were, however, picturesque enough, and across the _pavé_ in front of them +commenced the docks. One walked in and out of harbours and waterways, the +main stretch of harbour opening up more and more on the right hand, and +finally showing two great encircling arms that nearly met, and the grey +Channel beyond. Tossing at anchor outside were more than a dozen ships, +waiting for dark to attempt the crossing. As he went, a seaplane came +humming in from the mists, circled the old town, and took the harbour +water in a slither of foam. He had to wait while a big Argentine ship +ploughed slowly in up a narrow channel, and then, in the late afternoon, +crossed a narrow swing foot-bridge, and found himself on the main outer +sea-wall. + +Following directions, he turned to the right and walked as if going out +to the harbour mouth a mile or so ahead. It seemed impossible that his +camp should be here, for on the one hand he was close to the harbour, and +on the other, over a high wall and some buildings, was plainly to be +espied the sea. A few hundred yards on, however, a crowd of Tommies were +lined up and passing embarkation officers for a big trooper, and Peter +concluded that this was the leave boat by which he was to mark his camp +across the road and more or less beyond it. + +He crossed a railway-line, went in at a gate, and was there. + +The officers' quarters had a certain fascination. You stepped out of +the anteroom and found yourself on a raised concrete platform at the +back of which washed the sea. Very extensive harbour works, half +completed, ran farther out in a great semicircle across a wide space of +leaden water, over which gulls were circling and crying; but the thin +black line of this wall hardly interrupted one's sense of looking +straight out to sea, and its wide mouth away on the right let in the +real invigorating, sea-smelling wind. The camp itself was a mere strip +between the railway-line and the water, a camp of R.E.'s to which he was +attached. He was also to work a hospital which was said to be close by. + +It was pointed out to him later. The railway ran out all but to the +harbour mouth, and there ended in a great covered, wide station. Above +it, large and airy, with extensive verandahs parallel to the harbour, +was the old Customs, and it was this that had been transformed into a +hospital. It was an admirable place. The Red Cross trains ran in below, +and the men could be quickly swung up into the cool, clean wards above. +These, all on one level, had great glass doors giving access to the +verandahs, and from the verandahs broad gangways could be placed, running +men, at high tide, on to the hospital ship alongside. The nurses' +quarters were beyond, and their sitting-room was perched up, as it +were, sea on one side and harbour on the other. + +At present, of course, Peter did not know all this. He was merely +conducted by an orderly in the dusk to the anteroom of the mess, and +welcomed by the orderly-officer, who led him into a comfortable room +already lit, in a corner of which, near a stove, four officers sat at +cards. + +"Hearts three," said one as Peter came in. + +"Pass me," said another, and it struck Peter that he knew the tone. + +The four were fairly absorbed in their game, but the orderly officer led +Peter towards the table. At that they looked up, and next minute one had +jumped up and was greeting him. + +"By all that's wonderful! It's you again," he said. + +"Donovan!" exclaimed Peter, "What: are you doing here?" + +The South African held out his hand. "I've got attached to one of our +nigger outfits," he said, "just up the dock from here. But what are you +doing?" + +"Oh, I've been moved from Rouen," said Peter, "and told to join up here. +Got to look after the hospital and a few camps. And I was told," he +added, "I'd live in this camp." + +"Good enough," said Donovan. "Let me introduce you. This is Lieutenant +Pennell, R.E.--Lieutenant Pennell, Captain Graham. This is a bird of your +kidney, mess secretary and a great man, Padre Arnold, and this is one +Ferrars, Australian Infantry. He tried to stop a shell," went on Donovan +easily, "and is now recovering. The shock left him a little insane, or so +his best friends think; hence, as you may have heard, he has just gone +three hearts. And that's all anyone can do at present, padre, so have a +cigarette and sit down. I hope you haven't changed your old habits, as +you are just in time for a sun-downer. Orderly!" + +He pulled up a large easy-chair, and Peter subsided into it with a +pleasant feeling of welcome. He remembered, now, having heard that +Donovan was at Havre, but it was none the less a surprise to meet him. + +Donovan played a good hand when he liked, but when he was not meeting +his mettle, or perhaps when the conditions were not serious enough, he +usually kept up a diverting, unorthodox run of talk the whole time. Peter +listened and took in his surroundings lazily. "Come on," said his friend, +playing a queen. "Shove on your king, Pennell; everyone knows you've got +him. What? Hiding the old gentleman, are you? Why, sure it's myself has +him all the time"--gathering up the trick and leading the king. "Perhaps +somebody's holding up the ace now...." and so on. + +Pennell played well too, but very differently. He was usually bored with +his luck or the circumstances, and until you got to know him you were +inclined to think he was bored with you. He was a young-looking man of +thirty-five, rather good-looking, an engineer in peace-time who had +knocked about the world a good deal, but hardly gave you that impression. +The Australian played poorly. With curly dark hair and a perpetual pipe, +his face was almost sullen in repose, but it lit up eagerly enough at +any chance excitement. Arnold was easily the eldest, a short man with +iron-grey hair and very kindly eyes, a man master of himself and his +circumstances. Peter watched him eagerly. He was likely to see a good +deal of him, he thought, and he was glad there would be a padre as well +in camp. + +Donovan and Ferrars won the game and so the rubber easily, and the former +pushed his chair back from the table. "That's enough for me, boys," he +said. "I must trek in a minute. Well, padre, and what do you think of the +Army now?" + +"Mixed biscuits rather," Peter said. "But I had a rum experience getting +here. You wouldn't have thought it possible," and he related the story +of the movement order. At the close, Pennell nodded gloomily. "Pack of +fools they are!" he said. "Hardly one of them knows his job. You can +thank your lucky stars that the D.A.Q.M.G. had a down on that Colonel +What's-his-name, or it would have taken you another month to get here, +probably--eh, Donovan?" + +"That's so, old dear," said that worthy, "But I'm hanged if I'd have +cared. Some place, Rouen. Better'n this hole." + +"Well, at Rouen they said this was better," said Peter. + +Arnold laughed. "That's the way of the Army," he said. "It's all much the +same, but you would have to go far to beat this camp." + +Pennell agreed. "You're right there, padre," he said. "This is as neat a +hole as I've struck. If you know the road," he went on to Peter, "you can +slip into town in twenty-five minutes or so, and we're much better placed +than most camps. There's no mud and cinders here, is there, Donovan? His +camp's built on cinders," he added. + +"There are not," said that worthy, rising. "And you're very convenient to +the hospital here, padre. You better get Arnold to show you round; he's a +dog with the nurses." + +"What about the acting matron, No. 1 Base?" demanded Arnold. "He has tea +there every Sunday," he explained to Peter, "and he a married man, too." + +"It's time I went," said Donovan, laughing; "all the same, there's a +concert on Tuesday in next week, a good one, I believe, and I've promised +to go and take some people. Who'll come? Pennell, will you?" + +"Not this child, thanks. Too many nurses, too much tea, and too much talk +for me. Now, if you would pick me out a pretty one and fix up a little +dinner in town, I'm your man, old bean." + +"Well, that might be managed. It's time we had a flutter of some sort. +I'll see. What about you, Graham? You game to try the hospital? You'll +have to get to know the ropes of them all, you know." + +"Yes, I'll come," said Peter--"if I can, that is." He looked inquiringly +at Arnold. + +"Oh, your time is more or less your own," he replied--"at least, it is +our side of the house. Are you C.G. or P.C.?" + +"Good God, padre!" said the Australian, getting up too, "what in the +world do you mean?" + +"Chaplain-General's Department or Principal Chaplain's Department, Church +of England or Nonconformist. And it's sixpence a swear in this mess." +Arnold held out a hand. + +Donovan caught his friend by the arm. "Come on out of it," he said. "You +won't get back in time if you don't. The padre's a good sort; you needn't +mind him. So long everybody. Keep Tuesday clear, Graham. I'll call for +you." + +"Well, I'd better fix you up, Graham," said Arnold. "For my sins I'm mess +secretary, and as the president's out and likely to be, I'll find a place +for you." + +He led Peter into the passage, and consulted a board on the wall. "I'd +like to put you next me, but I can't," he said. "Both sides occupied. +Wait a minute. No. 10 Pennell, and No. 11's free. How would you like +that? Pennell," he called through the open door, "what's the next room to +yours like? Light all right?" + +"Quite decent," said Pennell, coming to the door. "Going to put him +there, padre? Let's go and see." Then the three went off together down +the passage. + +The little room was bare, except for a table under the window, Arnold +opened it, and Peter saw he looked out over the sea. Pennell switched on +the light and found it working correctly, and then sauntered across the +couple of yards or so of the cubicle's width to look at the remains of +some coloured pictures pasted on the wooden partition. + +"Last man's made a little collection from _La Vie Parisienne_ for you, +padre," he said, "Not a very bright selection, either. You'll have to +cover them up, or it'll never do to bring your A.C.G. or A.P.C., or +whatever he is, in here. What a life!" he added, regarding them. "They +are a queer people, the French.... Well, is this going to do?" + +Graham glanced at Arnold, "Very well," he said, "if it's all right for me +to have it." + +"Quite all right," said Arnold. "Remember, Pennell is next door left, so +keep him in order. Next door right is the English Channel, more or less. +Now, what about your traps?" + +"I left them outside the orderly-room," said Peter, "except for some +that a porter was to bring up. Perhaps they'll be here by now. I've got +a stretcher and so on." + +"I'll go and see," said Pennell, "and I'll put my man on to get you +straight, as you haven't a batman yet." And he strolled off. + +"Come to my room a minute," said Arnold, and Peter followed him. + +Arnold's room was littered with stuff. The table was spread with mess +accounts, and the corners of the little place were stacked up with a +gramophone, hymn-books, lantern-slides, footballs, boxing-gloves, and +such-like. The chairs were both littered, but Arnold cleared one by the +simple expedient of piling all its contents on the other, and motioned +his visitor to sit down. "Have a pipe?" he asked, holding out his pouch. + +Peter thanked him, filled and handed it back, then lit his pipe, and +glanced curiously round the room as he drew on it. "You're pretty full +up," he said. + +"Fairly," said the other. "There's a Y.M.C.A. here, and I run it more or +less, and Tommy likes variety. He's a fine chap, Tommy; don't you think +so?" + +Peter hesitated a second, and the other glanced at him shrewdly. + +"Perhaps you haven't been out long enough," he said. + +"Perhaps not," said Peter. "Not but what I do like him. He's a cheerful +creature for all his grousing, and has sterling good stuff in him. But +religiously I don't get on far. To tell you the truth, I'm awfully +worried about it." + +The elder man nodded. "I guess I know, lad," he said. "See here. I'm +Presbyterian and I reckon you are Anglican, but I expect we're up against +much the same sort of thing. Don't worry too much. Do your job and talk +straight, and the men'll listen more than you think." + +"But I don't think I know what to tell them," said Peter miserably, but +drawn out by the other. + +Arnold smiled. "The Prayer Book's not much use here, eh? But forgive me; +I don't mean to be rude. I know what you mean. To tell you the truth, I +think this war is what we padres have been needing. It'll help us to find +our feet. Only--this is honest--if you don't take care you may lose them. +I have to keep a tight hold of that"--and he laid his hand on a big +Bible--"to mind my own." + +Peter did not reply for a minute. He could not talk easily to a stranger. +But at last he said: "Yes; but it doesn't seem to me to fit the case. Men +are different. Times are different. The New Testament people took certain +things for granted, and even if they disagreed, they always had a common +basis with the Apostles. Men out here seem to me to talk a different +language: you don't know where to begin. It seems to me that they have +long ago ceased to believe in the authority of anyone or anything in +religion, and now to-day they actually deny our very commonplaces. But +I don't know how to put it," he added lamely. + +Arnold puffed silently for a little. Then he took his pipe out of his +mouth and regarded it critically. "God's in the soul of every man still," +he said. "They can still hear Him speak, and speak there. And so must we +too, Graham." + +Peter said nothing. In a minute or so steps sounded in the passage, and +Arnold looked up quickly. "Maybe," he said, "our ordinary life prevented +us hearing God very plainly ourselves, Graham, and maybe He has sent us +here for that purpose. I hope so. I've wondered lately if we haven't come +to the kingdom for such a time as this." + +Pennell pushed the door open, and looked in. "You there, Graham?" he +asked. "Oh, I thought I'd find him here, padre; his stuff's come." + +Peter got up. "Excuse me, Arnold," he said; "I must shake in. But I'm +jolly glad you said what you did, and I hope you'll say it again, and +some more." + +The older man smiled an answer, and the door closed. Then he sighed a +little, and stretched out his hand again for the Bible. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The great central ward at No. 1 Base Hospital looked as gay as possible. +In the centre a Guard's band sat among palms and ferns, and an +extemporised stage, draped with flags, was behind, with wings constructed +of Japanese-figured material. Pretty well all round were the beds, +although many of them had been moved up into a central position, and +there was a space for chairs and forms. The green-room had to be outside +the ward, and the performers, therefore, came and went in the public +gaze. But it was not a critical public, and the men, with a plenitude +of cigarettes, did not object to pauses. On the whole, they were +extraordinarily quiet and passive. Modern science has made the +battlefield a hell, but it has also made the base hospital something +approaching a Paradise. + +There were women in plenty. The staff had been augmented by visitors from +most of the other hospitals in the town, and there was a fair sprinkling +of W.A.A.C.'s, Y.M.C.A. workers, and so on, in addition. Jack Donovan +and Peter were a little late, and arrived at the time an exceedingly +popular subaltern was holding the stage amid roars of laughter. They +stood outside one of the many glass doors and peered in. + +Once inside, one had to make one's way among beds and chairs, and the +nature of things brought one into rather more than the usual share of +late-comers' scrutiny, but nothing could abash Donovan. He spotted at +once a handsome woman in nurse's indoor staff uniform, and made for her. +She, with two others, was sitting on an empty bed, and she promptly made +room for Donovan. Graham was introduced, and a quiet girl moved up a bit +for him to sit down; but there was not much room, and the girl would not +talk, so that he sat uncomfortably and looked about him, listening with +one ear to the fire of chaff on his right. Donovan was irrepressible. His +laugh and voice, and the fact that he was talking to a hospital +personage, attracted a certain amount of attention. Peter tried to smile, +but he felt out of it and observed. He stared up towards the band, which +was just striking up again. + +Suddenly he became conscious, as one will, that someone was particularly +looking at him. He glanced back over the chairs, and met a pair of eyes, +roguish, laughing, and unquestionably fixed upon him. The moment he saw +them, their owner nodded and telegraphed an obvious invitation. Peter +glanced at Donovan: he had not apparently seen. He looked back; the eyes +called him again. He felt himself getting hot, for, despite the fact that +he had a kind of feeling that he had seen those eyes before, he was +perfectly certain he did not know the girl. Perhaps she had made a +mistake. He turned resolutely to his companion. + +"Jolly good band, isn't it?" he said. + +"Yes," she replied. + +"But I suppose at a hospital like this you're always hearing decent +music?" he ventured. + +"Not so often," she said. + +"This band is just back from touring the front, isn't it? My friend said +something to that effect." + +"I believe so," she said. + +Peter could have cursed her. It was impossible to get anything out of +her, though why he had not a notion. The answer was really simple, for +she wanted to be next Donovan, and wasn't, and she was all the while +scheming how to get there. But Peter did not tumble to that; he felt an +ass and very uncomfortable, and he broke into open revolt. + +He looked steadily towards the chairs. The back of the girl who had +looked at him was towards him now, for she was talking sideways to +somebody; but he noted an empty chair just next her, and that her uniform +was not that of the nurses of this hospital. He felt confident that she +would look again, and he was not disappointed. Instantly he made up his +mind, nodded, and reached for his cap. "I see a girl I know over there," +he said to his neighbour. "Excuse me, will you?" Then he got up and +walked boldly over to the vacant chair. He was fast acclimatising to war +conditions. + +He sat down on that empty chair and met the girl's eyes fairly. She was +entirely at her ease and laughing merrily. "I've lost my bet," she said, +"and Tommy's won." + +"And you've made me tell a thundering lie," he replied, laughing too, +"which you know is the first step towards losing one's soul. Therefore +you deserve your share in the loss." + +"Why? What did you say?" she demanded. + +"I said I saw a girl I knew," he replied. "But I haven't any idea who you +are, though I can't help feeling I've seen you before." + +She chuckled with amusement, and turned to her companion. "He doesn't +remember, Tommy," she said. + +The second girl looked past her to Peter. "I should think not," she said. +"Nobody would. But he'll probably say in two minutes that he does. You're +perfectly shameless, Julie." + +Julie swung round to Peter. "You're a beast, Tommy," she said over her +shoulder, "and I shan't speak to you again. You see," she went on to +Peter, "I could see you had struck a footling girl, and as I don't know a +single decent boy here, I thought I'd presume on an acquaintance, and see +if it wasn't a lucky one. We've got to know each other, you know. The +girl with me on the boat--oh, damn, I've told you!--and I am swearing, +and you're a parson, but it can't be helped now--well, the girl told me +we should meet again, and that it was probably you who was mixed up with +my fate-line. What do you think of that?" + +Peter had not an idea, really. He was going through the most amazing set +of sensations. He felt heavy and dull, and as if he were utterly at a +loss how to deal with a female of so obviously and totally different a +kind from any he had met before; but, with it all, he was very conscious +of being glad to be there. Underneath everything, too, he felt a bit of a +dare-devil, which was a delightful experience for a London curate; and +still deeper, much more mysteriously and almost a little terrifyingly, +something stranger still, that he had known this girl for ages, although +he had not seen her for a long time. "I'm highly privileged, I'm sure," +he said, and could have kicked himself for a stupid ass. + +"Oh Lord!" said Julie, with a mock expression of horror; "for goodness' +sake don't talk like that. That's the worst of a parson: he can't forget +the drawing-room. At any rate, I'm not sure that _I'm_ highly fortunate, +but I thought I ought to give Fate a chance. Do you smoke?" + +"Yes," said Peter wonderingly. + +"Then for goodness' sake smoke, and you'll feel better. No, I daren't +here, but I'm glad you are educated enough to ask me. Nurses aren't +supposed to smoke in public, you know, and I take it that even you have +observed that I'm a nurse." + +She was quite right. Peter drew on his cigarette and felt more at +ease. "Well, to be absolutely honest, I had," he said. "And I observe, +moreover, that you are not wearing exactly an English nurse's uniform, +and that you have what I might venture to call a zoological badge. I +therefore conclude that, like my friend Donovan, you hail from South +Africa. What hospital are you in?" + +"Quai de France," she said. "Know it?" + +Peter repressed a start. "Quai de France?" he queried. "Where's that, +now?" + +At this moment a song started, but his companion dropped her voice to +stage whisper and replied: "End of the harbour, near where the leave-boat +starts. Know it now?" + +He nodded, but was saved a reply. + +She looked away toward the platform, and he studied her face +surreptitiously. It seemed very young till you looked closely, especially +at the eyes, and then you perceived something lurking there. She was +twenty-seven or twenty-eight, he concluded. She looked as if she knew the +world inside out, and as if there were something hidden below the gaiety. +Peter felt curiously and intensely attracted. His shyness vanished. He +had, and had had, no intimations of the doings of Providence, and nobody +could possibly be more sceptical of fate-lines than he, but it dawned on +him as he stared at her that he would fathom that look somehow, +somewhere. + +"I'm practically not made up at all," she whispered, without turning her +head, "so for Heaven's sake don't say there's too much powder on my +nose." + +Peter shook silently. "No, but a faint trace on the right cheek," he +whispered back. She turned then and looked at him, and her eyes +challenged his. And yet it is to be supposed that Hilda knew nothing +whatever about it. + +"'_Right on my mother's knee_....'" sang the platform. + +"'_Without a shirt, without a shirt_,'" gagged Peter, _sotto voce_, and +marvelled at himself. But he felt that her smothered laughter amply +rewarded him. + +The song ceased in time, and the encore, which they both rigorously +demanded. And immediately she began again. + +"I hope to goodness tea isn't far off," she said. "By the way, you'll +have to take me to it, now, you know. We go out of that door, and up a +flight of steps, and there's the matron's room on the top and a visitor's +room next to it, and tea'll be there. It will be a fiendish squash, and I +wouldn't go if I hadn't you to get me tea and take me away afterwards as +soon as possible." + +"I'm highly privileged, I'm sure," said Peter again, quite deliberately. +She laughed. "You are," she said. "Look how you're coming on! Ten minutes +ago you were a bored curate, and now you're--what are you?" + +Peter hesitated perceptibly. He felt he might say many things. Then he +said "A trapped padre," and they both laughed. + +"Thank goodness you're not sentimental, anyway," she said. "Nor's your +friend; but the matron is. I know her sort. Look at them." + +Peter looked. Donovan appeared still entirely at his ease, but he was +watching Peter, who realised why he had been made to look. He brazened +it out, smiled back at him, and turned perfectly deliberately to his +companion. + +"Julie," he said, "don't look over there any more, for goodness' sake, or +we'll have Donovan here. And if he comes he'll sail in and take you to +tea without a word. I know him. He's got an unfair advantage over me. I'm +just waking up, and he's been awake for years. Please give me a chance." + +She leaned, back and regarded him humorously. "You're not doing so +badly," she said, "I don't know that a man has ever called me 'Julie' +before in the first quarter of an hour. Do you know that, Solomon?" + +"It's your fault, I've never been introduced, and I must call you +something, so why not the name your friend called you? Julie's very +pretty and suits you. Somehow I couldn't call you 'Miss' anything, though +it may be convenient to know the rest. Do you think you could call me the +Rev. Peter Graham?" + +"I couldn't," she confessed, slightly more solemnly. "Queer, isn't it? +But don't, talk about it: it isn't lucky. I shall call you Solomon for +ever now. And you can only call me Miss Gamelyn when you've got to. See?" + +"But why in the world 'Solomon'? It doesn't fit me a bit." + +"Oh," she said, "it does, but don't worry why. Perhaps because, as the +old man said to the vicar when he heard of Solomon's wives, you are a +highly privileged Christian. You can't deny that, since you've said it +twice. Praises be, here is tea. Come on; come on, Tommy. Oh, Tommy, this +is the Very Reverend Peter Graham. Mr. Graham, this is one Raynard, +commonly known as Tommy, my half-section, so try to be polite." + +There was a general movement, and Peter shook hands as he got up. The +other girl struck him at once as a good sort. + +"You're booked to take us to tea, I suppose?" she said. "Julie's far more +practical than you'd imagine, padre." + +They left the row of chairs together, Julie well in front and apparently +forgetful of their existence. As they came abreast of the empty bed, +Peter noticed that the assistant matron had gone, and that Donovan was +drifting in the stream alongside her in front. But before they were out +of the great ward, Julie and he were laughing together. Peter felt +absurdly hurt, and hated himself for feeling it. The other girl was +talking at his elbow, but he made ridiculous and commonplace replies and +hardly noticed her. She broke off at last abruptly, and he roused himself +to carry on. He caught her expression, and somehow or other it landed him +deeper in the business. He made a deliberate move. + +"Where are you going after this?" he asked. + +"Down town to do some shopping; then I suppose home, unless a fit seizes +Julie and we run a risk once more of being summarily repatriated." + +He laughed. "Does that often happen?" + +"Quite often. You see ours is an English hospital, though we are South +Africans attached to it. I think they're much more strict than Colonial +hospitals. But they give us more latitude than the rest, at any rate. +Julie had a fearful row once, and simply declared she would do some +things, and since then they turn a blind eye occasionally. But there are +limits, and one day she'll step over them--I know she will." + +"Let's hope not," said Peter; "but now let me get you some tea." + +The little room was packed, but Peter got through somehow and made his +way to a series of tables spread with cakes and sandwiches. He got a cup +and seized a plate, and shouldered his way back. In the crush he saw only +the top of Miss Raynard's head, and made for that. "Here you are," he +said cheerfully, as he emerged. "Have a sandwich?" + +"Thanks," she said as she took it; "but why didn't you bring two cups?" + +"Why?" he asked. + +She nodded towards a corner and there was Julie, wedged in between +people, and refusing tea from a subaltern. "She expects you to bring it," +said Miss Raynard. + +Peter looked puzzled, "Where's Donovan?" he said. "I thought she came in +with him." + +The girl smiled. "She did, but she arranged for you to bring her tea, +whoever Donovan is, and she'll wait for it. She's that sort. Besides, if +Donovan was that officer with the matron, he's probably got other fish to +fry." + +Peter waited for no more, but plunged into the press again. As he +emerged, he crossed the track of his friend, who was steering about with +cakes. "Hullo, padre," that individual said; "you're a smart one, you +are. Let's take those girls out to dinner. They'll come all right." + +Peter mumbled something, and went on with his tea towards the corner. The +other's readiness and effrontery staggered him, but he wasn't going to +give himself away. + +"You're a brute!" said Julie promptly. "Where have you been?" + +"It's where have you been, you mean," retorted Peter. "I thought I was to +take you in to tea. When last I saw you, you had Donovan in tow." + +"And you had Tommy. Don't you like her?" + +"Awfully," said Peter; "I think she wants something now. But do come +across to our side. Aren't you going soon?" + +"Yes, when we can get away. Remember, everyone is watching. You go on +out, and we can meet you below." + +"Right," said Peter; "I'll collect Donovan." + +He found him after a bit, and the two made their adieus and thanks. + +As they went down the steps, Jack outlined the campaign. "I just joked to +her about dinner," he said, "but I think they'll rise. If they do, we'll +go to Travalini's, if they dare. That girl of yours is up to anything: +she knows a thing or two. You've some nerve, old thing." + +"Nothing to yours," retorted Graham, still not at all sure of himself. +"But, look here, what about Travalini's? I don't know that I care to go +there." + +"Oh, it's all right, old dear. You haven't a vast collar on now, and you +ought to see life. I've seen scores of chaplains there, even old Arnold. +I'll look after your morals. Come on; let's get out and across the road. +We shall see them coming down the steps." + +The hospital fronted on to the sea and the promenade that once was so +fashionable. The sun was setting, blood red, over the Channel, the ships +at anchor looking dark by contrast. But there was still plenty of light, +and Peter was inwardly conscious of his badges. Still, he told himself +that he was an ass, and the two of them sauntered slowly townwards. + +In a few minutes Jack glanced back. "They're coming," he said, and as the +girls crossed on to the pavement behind them, turned round. "Good for +you," he said. "You got out quicker than I thought you would. Shall we +tram or walk?" + +"Walk, I think," said Julie; "it's topping here by the sea. I want to get +a pair of shoes, and the shop's not too far. Besides, you can buy shoes +by artificial light, which won't do for some things. Tommy bought a hat +the other night, and she nearly had a fit in the morning. She's keeping +it for the next fancy-dress stunt." + +She ran on, and, despite Peter, Donovan annexed her. They set off gaily +ahead, Julie's clear laugh coming back now and again. Peter felt +depressed and angry. He told himself he was being let in for something he +did not want, and he had not much to say. To make conversation, he asked +about South Africa. + +It appeared the girls came from Natal. Miss Raynard was enthusiastic, and +he gathered they had been trained together in Pietermaritzburg, but lived +somewhere on the coast, where there was tennis all the year and moonlight +bathing picnics in the season, and excellent river boating. He could not +catch the name, but it was not too far from Durban. He said, in the end, +that he had always wanted to visit South Africa, and should certainly +come to Natal.... + +They turned off the promenade into a boulevard lined with the usual +avenue of trees. It was dusk now, and looked darker by contrast with the +street lamps. Small tram-cars rushed by now and again, with clanging +bells and platforms crowded before and behind, and there were plenty of +people in the street, Julie turned abruptly. + +"I say, Tommy," she said, "Captain Donovan wants us to go out to +dinner. What do you say? My shoes can wait, and we needn't be in till +eight-thirty. It's not more than six now. It will be a spree." + +"I'm game; but where are we going?" + +"I suggest Travalini's, padre," said Donovan. + +"Not for me;" said Miss Raynard; "it's too public and you seem to forget, +Captain' Donovan, that we are forbidden to dine with officers." + +"Nobody is likely to give us away, Tommy," said Miss Gamelyn. + +"I'm not going to take the risk in uniform. Let's go to a quiet hotel, or +else to some very French place. That would be fun." + +"A jolly good idea," cried Donovan, "and I know what will just fix us up. +Come on." + +Tommy smiled. "Probably it _will_ fix us up. Tell us about it first." + +"It's absolutely safe," Donovan protested. "It's quite French, and we +shall get one knife and fork each. There's a cinema on top, and billiards +underneath, and practically no officers go. A Belgian Captain I came out +with took me. He said you could 'eat well' there, and you can, for the +cooking is a treat. I swear it's all right." + +"Lead on," said Julie; "we'll trust you," and she manoeuvred so that her +half-section was left with Donovan. + +The four walked briskly through the dusk. "Don't you love France in the +evening?" demanded Julie. + +"Yes," said Peter, but dubiously. "I don't know it much yet," he added. + +"Oh, I do. Even a girl can almost do what she likes out here. I've had +some awful fun in Havre. I think one ought to take one's pleasure when +one has the chance, don't you? But some of these girls give me the hump; +they're so narrow. They can't see you with a man without imagining all +sorts of things, whereas I've had some rattling good pals among men out +here. Then they're so afraid of doing things--the girls, I mean. Do you +know I went to Paris when I came up here from Boulogne? Had absolutely +_the_ time. Of course, nobody knows, so don't speak of it--except Tommy, +of course." + +"How did you do it?" demanded Peter, amused. + +"Well, you see, I and another girl, English, were sent over by Boulogne, +as you know, because you saw us on the boat, and we were supposed to come +straight here. In the train we met a Canadian in the French Air Service, +and he put us wise about changing, and so on. But it appeared you have +to change at Amiens in the middle of the night, and he said the thing was +to sleep in the train and go right on to Paris. Then you got twenty-four +hours there, and left next day by the Havre express. The girl was +horribly scared, but I said we'd try it. Nothing happened at all. We had +a carriage to ourselves, and merely sat still at Amiens. When we got +to Paris we simply walked out, bold as brass. I showed our tickets at +Havre and told the French inspector we had overslept. He merely told us +the time to leave next day. We went to an hotel, and then strolled up the +Avenue de l'Opera. And what do you think? Who should I see but an old dear +of a General I knew out in South Africa who is in the French Red Cross. +He was simply delighted to see us. He motored us out to the Bois in the +afternoon, dined us, and took us to the theatre--only, by Jove! I did +curse that other girl. She was in a ferment all the time. Next morning he +had a job on, but he sent a car for us with a subaltern to put us on the +train, and we went to the R.T.O. this time. He couldn't do enough for us +when he heard the name of General de Villiers and saw his card. We got +into Havre at midday, and nobody was a penny the wiser." + +Peter laughed. "You were lucky," he said; "perhaps you always are." + +"No, I'm not," she said "but I usually do what I want and get through +with it. Hullo, is this the place?" + +"I suppose so," said Peter. "Now for it. Look as if you'd been going to +such places all your life." + +"I've probably been more often than you, anyhow, Solomon," said Julie, +and she ran lightly up the steps. + +They passed through swing-doors into a larger hall brilliantly lit and +heavy with a mixed aroma of smoke and food. There was a sort of hum of +sound going on all the time and Peter looked round wonderingly. He +perceived immediately that there was an atmosphere about this French +restaurant unlike that of any he had been in before. He was, in truth, +utterly bewildered by what he saw, but he made an effort not to show it. +Julie, on the other hand, was fairly carried away. They seated themselves +at a table for four near the end of the partition, and she led the party +in gaiety. Donovan hardly took his eyes off her, and cut in with dry, +daring remarks with a natural case. Tommy played a good second to Julie, +and if she had had any fears they were not visible now. + +"What about an appetiser?" demanded Donovan. + +"Oh, rather! Mixed vermuth for me; but Tommy must have a very small one: +she gets drunk on nothing. Give me a cigarette now, padre; I'm dying to +smoke." + +Peter produced his case. "Don't call him 'padre' here," said Donovan; +"you'll spoil his enjoyment." + +"A cigarette, Solomon, then," whispered Julie, as the other turned to +beckon a _garçon_, flashing her eyes on him. + +Peter resisted no longer. "Don't," he said. "Call me anything but that." +It seemed to him that there was something inevitable in it all. He did +not formulate his sensations, but it was the lure of the contrast that +won him. Ever since he had landed in France he had, as it were, hung on +to the old conventional position, and he had felt increasingly that it +was impossible to do so. True, there seemed little connection between a +dinner with a couple of madcap girls in a French restaurant and religion, +but there was one. He had felt out of touch with men and life, and now a +new phase of it was offered him. He reached out for it eagerly. + +Julie leaned back and blew out a thin stream of smoke, her eyes daring +him, picking up the little glass as she did so. + +_"Here's to the girl with the little grey shoes,"_ she chanted merrily. + +"Don't Julie, for Heaven's sake!" pleaded Tommy. "He'll be shocked." + +"Oh, go on," said Peter; "what is it?" + +"Captain Donovan will finish," laughed Julie. + +"'Deed I can't, for I don't know it," he said. "Let's have it, little +girl; I'm sure it's a sporting toast." + +"_Who eats your grub and drinks your booze_," continued she. + +"Shut up, Julie," said Tommy, leaning over as if to snatch her glass. + +"_And then goes home to her mother to snooze_," called Julie +breathlessly, leaning back. + +"_I don't think_," ejaculated Donovan. + +Julie tipped down the drink. "You knew it all the time," she said. And +they all burst out laughing. + +Peter drank, and called for another, his eyes on Julie. He knew that he +could not sum her up, but he refused to believe that this was the secret +behind the eyes. She was too gay, too insolent. What Donovan thought he +could not say, but he almost hated him for the ease with which he kept +pace with their companions. + +They ordered dinner, and the great dish of _hors d'oeuvres_ was brought +round by a waiter who seemed to preside over it with a fatherly +solicitude. Julie picked up an olive in her fingers, and found it so good +that she grumbled at only having taken one. + +"Have mine," said Donovan, shooting one on to her plate. + +"Thanks," she said. "Oh, heavens! I forgot that patch on my left +cheek--or was it my right, Solomon? Let's see." + +She dived into her pocket, and produced a tiny satin beaded box, "Isn't +it chic?" she demanded, leaning over to show Donovan. "I got it in the +Nouvelles Galeries the other day." She took off the lid, which revealed +its reverse as a tiny mirror, and scrutinised herself, patting back a +stray lock on her forehead. + +"Oh, don't," said Donovan, and he slipped the hair out again with his +finger. + +"Be quiet; but I'll concede that. This won't do, though." Out came a tiny +powder-puff. "How's that?" she demanded, smiling up at him. + +"Perfect," he said. "But it's not fair to do that here." + +"Wait for the taxi then," she said. "Besides, it won't matter so much +then." + +"What won't matter?" demanded Peter. + +"Solomon, dear, you're as innocent as a new-born babe. Isn't he?" she +demanded of his friend. + +Donovan looked across at him. "Still waters run deep," he said. "I don't +know, but excuse me!" + +He had been sitting next Julie and opposite Miss Raynard, but he was now +on his feet and begging her to change places with him. She consented, +laughing, and did so, but Julie pretended to be furious. + +"I won't have it. You're a perfect beast, Tommy. Captain Donovan, I'll +never come out with you again. Solomon, come and sit here, and you, +Tommy, go over there." + +Peter hadn't an idea why, but he too got up. Tommy protested. "Look +here," she said, "I came for dinner, not for a dance. Oh, look out, +Captain Graham; you'll upset the cutlets!" Peter avoided the waiter by an +effort, but came on round her to the other side. + +"Get out of it, Tommy," said Julie, leaning over and pushing her. "I will +have a man beside me, anyhow." + +"I'd sooner be opposite," said Donovan. "I can see you better, and you +can't make eyes at the Frenchman at the other table quite so well if I +get my head in the way." + +"Oh, but he's such a dear," said Julie. "I'd love to flirt with him. Only +I must say his hair is a bit greasy." + +"You'll make his lady furious if you don't take care," said Donovan, "and +it's a shame to spoil her trade." + +Peter glanced across. A French officer, sitting opposite a painted girl, +was smiling at them. He looked at Julie; she was smiling back. + +"Julie, don't for Heaven's sake," said her half-section. "We shall have +him over here next, and you remember once before how awkward it was." + +Julie laughed. "Give me another drink, then, Captain Donovan," she said, +"and I'll be good." + +Donovan filled up her glass. She raised it and challenged him. "_Here's +to we two in Blighty_," she began. + +Miss Raynard rose determinedly and interrupted her. "Come on," she said; +"that's a bit too much, Julie. We must go, or we'll never get back, and +don't forget you've got to go on duty in the morning, my dear." She +pulled out a little watch. "Good heavens!" she cried. "Do you know the +time? It's eight-twenty now. We ought to have been in by eight, and +eighty-thirty is the latest time that's safe. For any sake, come on." + +Julie for once agreed. "Good Lord, yes," she said. "We must have a taxi. +Can we get one easily?" + +"Oh, I expect so," said Donovan. "Settle up, Graham, will you? while I +shepherd them out and get a car. Come on, and take care how you pass the +Frenchman." + +In a few minutes Peter joined them on the steps outside. The restaurant +was in the corner of a square which contained a small public garden, and +the three of them were waiting for him on the curb. A taxi stood by them. +The broad streets ran away to left and right, gay with lights and +passers-by, and the dark trees stood out against a starry sky. A group of +British officers went laughing by, and one of them recognised Donovan and +hailed him. Two spahis crossed out of the shade into the light, their red +and gold a picturesque splash of colour. Behind them glared the staring +pictures of the cinema show on a great hoarding by the wall. + +"Come on, Graham," called Donovan, "hop in." + +The four packed in closely, Peter and Tommy opposite the other two, Julie +farthest from Peter. They started, and he caught her profile as the +street lights shone in and out with the speed of their passing. She was +smoking, puffing quickly at her cigarette, and hardly silent a moment. + +"It's been a perfect treat," she said. "You're both dears, aren't they, +Tommy? You must come and have tea at the hospital any day: just walk in. +Mine's Ward 3. Come about four o'clock, and you'll find me any day this +week, Tommy's opposite. There's usually a crush at tea, but you must +come. By the way, where's your camp? Aren't you going heaps out of your +way? Solomon, where do you live? Tell me." + +Peter grinned in the dark, and told her. + +"Oh, you perfect beast!" she said, "Then you knew the Quai de France all +the time. Well, you're jolly near, anyway." "Oh, Lord!" she exclaimed +suddenly, "you aren't the new padre?" + +"I am," said Peter. + +"Good Lord! what a spree! Then you'll come in on duty. You can come in +any hour of the day or night. Tommy, do you hear that? Solomon's our +spiritual pastor. He's begun well, hasn't he?" + +Peter was silent. It jarred him horribly. But just then the car slowed +down. + +"What's up now?" demanded Donovan. + +"Only the sentry at the swing bridge," said Tommy. "They stop all cars at +night. He's your side, dear; give him the glad eye." + +The door opened, and a red-cap looked in. "Hospital, corporal; it's all +right," said Julie, beaming at him. + +"Oh, all right, miss. Good-night," said the man, stepping back and +saluting in the light of the big electric standard at the bridgehead. +"Carry on, driver!" + +"We're just there," said Julie; "I am sorry. It's been rippin'. Stop the +car, Solomon, somewhere near the leave-boat; it won't do to drive right +up to the hospital; we might be spotted." + +Peter leaned out of the window on his side. The lights on the quay glowed +steadily across the dark water, and made golden flicking streaks upon it +as the tide swelled slowly in. In the distance a great red eye flashed in +and out solemnly, and on their side he could see the shaded lights of the +hospital ship, getting ready for her night crossing. He judged it was +time, and told the man to stop. + +"Where's my powder-puff?" demanded Julie. "I believe you've bagged it, +Captain Donovan. No, it's here. Skip out, Tommy. Is anyone about?" + +"No," said the girl from the step. "But don't wait all night. We'd best +run for it." + +"Well, good-night," said Julie. "You have both been dears, but whether +I'm steady enough to get in safely I don't know. Still, Tommy's a rock. +See you again soon. Good-bye-ee!" + +She leaned forward. "_Now_, if you're good," she said to Donovan. He +kissed her, laughing; and before he knew what she was doing, she reached +over to Peter, kissed him twice on the lips, and leaped lightly out. "Be +good," she said, "and if you can't, be careful." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Following a delay of some days, there had been a fairly heavy mail, and +Peter took his letters to the little terrace by the sea outside the mess, +and sat in the sun to read them. While he was so occupied Arnold appeared +with a pipe, but, seeing him engaged, went back for a novel and a +deck-chair. It was all very peaceful and still, and beyond occasional +hammering from, the leisurely construction of the outer harbour wall and +once or twice the siren of a signalling steamer entering the docks, there +was nothing to disturb them at all. Perhaps half an hour passed, then +Peter folded up some sheets, put them in his pocket, and walked moodily +to the edge of the concrete, staring down, at the lazy slushing of the +tide against: the wall below him. + +He kicked a pebble discontentedly into the water, and turned to look, at +Arnold. The older man was stretched out: in his chair smoking a pipe and +regarding him. A slow smile passed between them. + +"No, hang it all," said Peter; "there's nothing to smile about, Arnold, +I've pretty well got to the end of my tether." + +"Meaning what exactly?" queried the other. + +"Oh, well, you know enough already to guess the rest.... Look here, +Arnold, you and. I are fairly good pals now, I'd just like to tell you +exactly what I feel." + +"Sit down then, man, and get it out. There's a chair yonder, and you've +got the forenoon before ye. I'm a heretic and all that sort of thing, of +course, but perhaps that'll make it easier. I take it it's a kind of +heretic you're becoming yourself." + +Peter pulled up a chair and got out his own pipe. "Arnold," he said, "I'm +too serious to joke, and I don't know that I'm even a Christian heretic. +I don't know what I am and where I stand. I wish I did; I wish I even +knew how much I disbelieved, for then I'd know what to do. But it's not +that my dogmas have been attacked and weakened. I've no new light on the +Apostles' Creed and no fresh doubts about it. I could still argue for the +Virgin Birth of Christ and the Trinity, and so on. But it's worse than +that. I feel ..." He broke off abruptly and pulled at his pipe. The other +said nothing. They were friends enough by now to understand each other. +In a little while the younger man found the words he wanted. + +"Look here, it's like this. I remember once, on the East Coast, coming +across a stone breakwater high and dry in a field half a mile from the +sea. There was nothing the matter with the breakwater, and it served +admirably for certain purposes--a seat, for instance, or a shady place +for a picnic. But it was no longer of any vital use in the world, for the +sea had receded and left it there. Now, that's just what I feel. I had a +religion; I suppose it had its weaknesses and its faults; but most of it +was good sound stone, and it certainly had served. But it serves no +longer, not because it's damaged, but because the need for it has changed +its nature or is no longer there." He trailed off into silence and +stopped. + +Arnold stirred to get out his pouch. "The sea is shifty, though," he +said. "If they keep the breakwater in decent repair, it'll come in handy +again." + +"Yes," burst out Peter. "But, of course, that's where illustrations are +so little good: you can't press them. And in any case no engineer worth +his salt would sit down by his breakwater and smoke a pipe till the sea +came in handy again. His job is to go after it." + +"True for ye, boy. But if the old plan was so good, why not go down to +the beach and get on with building operations of the same sort?" + +"Arnold," said Peter, "you couldn't have put it better. That's exactly +what I came here to do. I knew in London that the sea was receding to +some extent, and I thought that there was a jolly good chance to get up +with it again out here. But that leads straight to my second problem: +I can't build on the old plan, and it doesn't seem any good. It's as +if our engineer found quicksands that wouldn't hold his stone, and +cross-currents that smashed up all his piles.... I mean, I thought I knew +what would save souls. But I find that I can't because my methods are--I +don't know, faulty perhaps, out of date maybe possibly worse; and, what +is more, the souls don't want my saving. The Lord knows they want +something; I can see that fast enough, but what it is I don't know. +Heavens! I remember preaching in the beginning of the war from the text +'Jesus had compassion on the multitude.' Well I don't feel that He has +changed, and I'm quite sure He still has compassion, but the multitude +doesn't want it. I was wrong about the crowd. It's nothing like what I +imagined. The crowd isn't interested in Jesus any more. It doesn't +believe in Him. It's a different sort of crowd altogether from the one He +led." + +"I wonder," said Arnold. + +Peter moved impatiently. "Well, I don't see how you can," he said. "Do +you think Tommy worries about his sins? Are the men in our mess +miserable? Does the girl the good books talked about, who flirts and +smokes and drinks and laughs, sit down by night on the edge of her little +white bed and feel a blank in her life? Does she, Arnold?" + +"I'm blest if I know; I haven't been there! You seem to know a precious +lot about it," he added dryly. + +"Oh, don't rag and don't be facetious. If you do, I shall clear. I'm +trying to talk sense, and at any rate it's what I feel. And I believe you +know I'm right too." Peter was plainly a bit annoyed. + +The elder padre sat up straight at that, and his tone changed. He stared +thoughtfully out to sea and did not smoke. But he did not speak all at +once. Peter glanced at him, and then lay back in his chair and waited. + +Arnold spoke at last: possibly the harbour works inspired him. "Look +here, boy," he said, "let's get back to your illustration, which is no +such a bad one. What do you suppose your engineer would do when he got +down to the new sea-beach and found the conditions you described? It +wouldn't do much good if he sat down and cursed the blessed sea and the +sands and the currents, would it? It would be mighty little use if he +blamed his good stone and sound timber, useless though they appeared. +I'm thinking he'd be no much of an engineer either if he chucked his +job. What would he do, d'you think?" + +"Go on," said Peter, interested. + +"Well," said the speaker in parables, "unless I'm mighty mistaken, he'd +get down first to studying the new conditions. He'd find they'd got laws +governing them, same as the old--different laws maybe, but things you +could perhaps reckon with if you knew them. And when he knew them, I +reckon he'd have a look at his timber and stone and iron, and get out +plans. Maybe, these days, he'd help out with a few tons of reinforced +concrete, and get in a bit o' work with some high explosive. I'm no +saying. But if he came from north of the Tweed, my lad," he added, with a +twinkle in his eye and a touch of accent, "I should be verra surprised +if that foreshore hadn't a breakwater that would do its duty in none so +long a while." + +"And if he came from south of the Tweed, and found himself in France?" +queried Peter. + +"I reckon he'd get down among the multitude and make a few inquiries," +said Arnold, more gravely. "I reckon he wouldn't be in too great a hurry, +and he wouldn't believe all he saw and heard without chewing on it a bit, +as our Yankee friends say. And he'd know well enough that there was +nothing wrong with his Master, and no change in His compassion, only, +maybe, that he had perhaps misunderstood both a little." + +A big steamer hooted as she came up the river, and the echoes of the +siren died out slowly among the houses that climbed up the hill behind +them. + +Then Peter put his hand up and rested his head upon it, shading his face. + +"That's difficult--and dangerous, Arnold" he said. + +"It is that, laddie," the other answered quickly. "There was a time when +I would have thought it too difficult and too dangerous for a boy of +mine. But I've had a lesson or two to learn out here as well as other +folks. Up the line men have learnt not to hesitate at things because they +are difficult and dangerous. And I'll tell you something else we've +learnt--that it is better for half a million to fail in the trying than +for the thing not to be tried at all." + +"Arnold," said Peter, "what about yourself? Do you mind my asking? Do you +feel this sort of thing at all, and, if so, what's your solution?" + +The padre from north of the Tweed knocked the ashes out of his pipe and +got up, "Young man," he said, "I don't mind your asking, but I'm getting +old, and my answering wouldn't do either of us any good, if I have a +solution I don't suppose it would be yours. Besides, a man can't save his +brother, and not even a father can save his son .... I've nothing to tell +ye, except, maybe, this: don't fear and don't falter, and wherever you +get to, remember that God is there. David is out of date these days, +and very likely it wasn't David at all, but I don't know anything truer +in the auld book than yon verse where it says: 'Though I go down into +hell, Thou art there also.'" + +"I beg your pardon, padre," said a drawling voice behind them. "I caught +a word just now which I understand no decent clergyman uses except in the +pulpit. If, therefore, you are preaching, I will at once and discreetly +withdraw, but if not, for his very morals' sake, I will withdraw your +congregation--that is, if he hasn't forgotten his engagement." + +Graham jumped up. "Good Heavens, Pennell!" he exclaimed, "I'm blest if I +hadn't." He pushed his arm out and glanced at his watch. "Oh, there's +plenty of time, anyway. I'm lunching with this blighter down town, padre, +at some special restaurant of his," he explained, "and I take it the sum +and substance of his unseemly remarks are that he thinks we ought to get +a move on." + +"Don't let me stand in the way of your youthful pleasures," said Arnold, +smiling; "but take care of yourself, Graham. Eat and drink, for to-morrow +you die; but don't eat and drink too much in case you live to the day +after." + +"I'll remember," said Peter, "but I hope it won't be necessary. However, +you never know 'among the multitude,' do you?" he added. + +Arnold caught up the light chair and lunged out at him. "Ye unseemly +creature," he shouted, "get out of it and leave me in peace." + +Pennell and Peter left the camp and crossed the swing bridge into the +maze of docks. Threading their way along as men who knew it thoroughly +they came at length to the main roadway, with its small, rather smelly +shops, its narrow side-streets almost like Edinburgh closes, and its +succession of sheds and offices between which one glimpsed the water. +Just here, the war had made a difference. There was less pleasure traffic +up Seine and along Channel, though the Southampton packet ran as +regularly as if no submarine had ever been built. Peter liked Pennell. +He was an observant creature of considerable decencies, and a good +companion. He professed some religion, and although it was neither +profound nor apparently particularly vital, it helped to link the two +men. As they went on, the shops grew a little better, but no restaurant +was visible that offered much expectation. + +"Where in the world are you taking me?" demanded Peter. "I don't mind +slums in the way of business, but I prefer not to go to lunch in them." + +"Wait and see, my boy," returned his companion, "and don't protest till +it's called for. Even then wait a bit longer, and your sorrow shall be +turned into joy--and that's Scripture. Great Scott! see what comes of +fraternising with padres! _Now._" + +So saying he dived in to the right down a dark passage, into which the +amazed Peter followed him. He had already opened a door at the end of it +by the time Peter got there, and was halfway up a flight of wood stairs +that curved up in front of them out of what was, obviously, a kitchen. +A huge man turned his head as Peter came in, and surveyed him silently, +his hands dexterously shaking a frying-pan over a fire as he did so. + +"Bon jour, monsieur," said Peter politely. + +Monsieur grunted, but not unpleasantly, and Peter gripped the banister +and commenced to ascend. Half-way up he was nearly sent flying down +again. A rosy-cheeked girl, short and dark, with sparkling eyes, had +thrust herself down between him and the rail from a little landing above, +and was shouting: + +"Une omelette aux champignons. Jambon. Pommes sautes, s'il vous plait." + +Peter recovered himself and smiled. "Bon jour, mademoiselle," he said, +this time. In point of fact, he could say very little else. + +"Bon jour, monsieur," said, the girl, and something else that he could +not catch, but by this time he had reached the top in time to witness a +little 'business' there. A second girl, taller, older, slower, but +equally smiling, was taking Pennell's cap and stick and gloves, making +play with her eyes the while. "Merci, chérie," he heard his friend say +and then, in a totally different voice: "Ah! Bon jour Marie." + +A third girl was before them. In her presence the other two withdrew. She +was tall, plain, shrewd of face, with reddish hair, but she smiled even +as the others. It was little more than a glance that Peter got, for she +called an order (at which the first girl again disappeared down the +stairs) greeted Pennell, replied to his question that there were two +places, and was out of sight again in the room, seemingly all at once. He +too, then, surrendered cap and stick, and followed his companion in. + +There were no more than four tables in the little room--two for six, and +two for four or five. Most were filled, but he and Pennell secured two +seats with their backs to the wall opposite a couple of Australian +officers who had apparently just commenced. Peter's was by the window, +and he glanced out to see the sunlit street below, the wide sparkling +harbour, and right opposite the hospital he had now visited several times +and his own camp near it. There was the new green of spring shoots in the +window-boxes, snowy linen on the table, a cheerful hum of conversation +about him, and an oak-panelled wall behind that had seen the Revolution. + +"Pennell," he said, "you're a marvel. The place is perfect." + +By the time they had finished Peter was feeling warmed and friendly, the +Australians had been joined to their company, and the four spent an idle +afternoon cheerfully enough. There was nothing in strolling through the +busy streets, joking a little over very French picture post-cards, +quizzing the passing girls, standing in a queue at Cox's, and finally +drawing a fiver in mixed French notes, or in wandering through a huge +shop of many departments to buy some toilet necessities. But it was good +fun. There was a comradeship, a youthfulness, carelessness, about it all +that gripped Peter. He let himself go, and when he did so he was a good +companion. + +One little incident in the Grand Magasin completed his abandonment to the +day and the hour. They were ostensibly buying a shaving-stick, but at the +moment were cheerily wandering through the department devoted to +_lingerie_. The attendant girls, entirely at ease, were trying to +persuade the taller of the two Australians, whom his friend addressed +as "Alex," to buy a flimsy lace nightdress "for his fiancée," readily +pointing out that he would find no difficulty in getting rid of it +elsewhere if he had not got such a desirable possession, when Peter heard +an exclamation behind him. + +"Hullo!" said a girl's voice; "fancy finding you here!" He turned quickly +and blushed. Julie laughed merrily. + +"Caught out," she said, "Tell me what you're buying, and for whom. A +blouse, a camisole, or worse?" + +"I'm not buying," said Peter, recovering his ease. "We're just strolling +round, and that girl insists that my friend the Australian yonder should +buy a nightie for his fiancée. He says he hasn't one, so she is +persuading him that he can easily pick one up. What do you think?" + +She glanced over at the little group. "Easier than some people I know, +I should think," she said, smiling, taking in his six feet of bronzed +manhood. "But it's no use your buying it. I wear pyjamas, silk, and I +prefer Venns'." + +"I'll remember," said Peter. "By the way, I'm coming to tea again +to-morrow." + +"That will make three times this week," she said. "But I suppose you +will go round the ward first." Then quickly, for Peter looked slightly +unhappy: "Next week I've a whole day off." + +"No?" he said eagerly "Oh, do let's fix something up. Will you come out +somewhere?" + +Her eyes roved across to Pennell, who was bearing down upon them. "We'll +fix it up to-morrow," she said. "Bring Donovan, and I'll get Tommy. And +now introduce me nicely." + +He did so, and she talked for a few minutes, and then went off to join +some friends, who had moved on to another department. "By Jove," said +Pennell, "that's some girl! I see now why you are so keen on the +hospital, old dear. Wish I were a padre." + +"I shall be padre in ..." began Alex, but Peter cut him short. + +"Oh, Lord," he said, "I'm tired of that! Come on out of it, and let's get +a refresher somewhere. What's the club like here?" + +"Club's no good," said Pennell. "Let's go to Travalini's and introduce +the padre. He's not been there yet." + +"I thought everyone knew it," said the other Australian--rather +contemptuously, Peter thought. What with one thing and another, he felt +suddenly that he'd like to go. He remembered how nearly he had gone there +in other company. "Come on, then," he said, and led the way out. + +There was nothing in Travalini's to distinguish it from many other such +places--indeed, to distinguish it from the restaurant in which Peter, +Donovan, and the girls had dined ten days or so before, except that it +was bigger, more garish, more expensive, and, consequently, more British +in patronage. The restaurant was, however, separated more completely +from the drinking-lounge, in which, among palms, a string-band played. +There was an hotel above besides, and that helped business, but one could +come and go innocently enough, for all that there was "anything a +gentleman wants," as the headwaiter, who talked English, called himself a +Belgian, and had probably migrated from over the Rhine, said. Everybody, +indeed, visited the place now and again. Peter and his friends went in +between the evergreen shrubs in their pots, and through the great glass +swing-door, with every assurance. The place seemed fairly full. There was +a subdued hum of talk and clink of glasses; waiters hurried to and fro; +the band was tuning up. British uniforms predominated, but there were +many foreign officers and a few civilians. There were perhaps a couple of +dozen girls scattered about the place besides. + +The friends found a corner with a big plush couch which took three of +them, and a chair for Alex. A waiter bustled up and they ordered drinks, +which came on little saucers marked with the price. Peter lay back +luxuriously. + +"Chin-chin," said the other Australian, and the others responded. + +"That's good," said Pennell. + +"Not so many girls here this afternoon," remarked Alex carelessly. "See, +Dick, there's that little Levantine with the thick dark hair. She's +caught somebody." + +Peter looked across in the direction indicated. The girl, in a cerise +costume with a big black hat, short skirt, and dainty bag, was sitting in +a chair halfway on to them and leaning over the table before her. As he +watched, she threw her head back and laughed softly. He caught the gleam +of a white throat and of dark sloe eyes. + +"She's a pretty one," said Pennell. "God! but they're queer little bits +of fluff, these girls. It beats me how they're always gay, and always +easy to get and to leave. And they get rottenly treated sometimes." + +"Yes I'm damned if I understand them," said Alex. "Now, padre, I'll tell +you something that's more in your way than mine, and you can see what you +make of it. I was in a maison tolerée the other day--you know the sort +of thing--and there were half a dozen of us in the sitting-room with the +girls, drinking fizz. I had a little bit of a thing with fair hair--she +couldn't have been more than seventeen at most, I reckon--with a laugh +that did you good to hear, and, by gum! we wanted to be cheered just +then, for we had had a bit of a gruelling on the Ancre and had been +pulled out of the line to refit. She sat there with an angel's face, a +chemise transparent except where it was embroidered, and not much else, +and some of the women were fair beasts. Well, she moved on my knee, and I +spilt some champagne and swore--'Jesus Christ!' I said. Do you know, she +pushed back from me as if I had hit her! 'Oh, don't say His Name!' she +said. 'Promise me you won't say it again. Do you not know how He loved +us?' I was so taken aback that I promised, and to tell you the truth, +padre, I haven't said it since. What do you think of that?" + +Peter shook his head and drained his glass. He couldn't have spoken at +once; the little story, told in such a place, struck him so much. Then he +asked: "But is that all? How did she come to be there?" + +"Well," Alex said, "that's just as strange. Father was in a French +cavalry regiment, and got knocked out on the Marne. They lived in Arras +before the war, and you can guess that there wasn't much left of the +home. One much older sister was a widow with a big family; the other was +a kid of ten or eleven, so this one went into the business to keep the +family going. Fact. The mother used to come and see her, and I got to +know her. She didn't seem to mind: said the doctors looked after them +well, and the girl was making good money. Hullo!" he broke off, "there's +Louise," and to Peter's horror he half-rose and smiled across at a girl +some few tables away. + +She got up and came over, beamed on them all, and took the seat Alex +vacated. "Good-evening," she said, in fair English, scrutinising them. +"What is it you say, 'How's things'?" + +Alex pressed a drink on her and beckoned the waiter. She took a syrup, +the rest martinis. Peter sipped his, and watched her talking to Alex and +Pennell. The other Australian got up and crossed the room, and sat down +with some other men. + +The stories he had heard moved him profoundly. He wondered if they were +true, but he seemed to see confirmation in the girl before him. Despite +some making up, it was a clean face, if one could say so. She was +laughing and talking with all the ease in the world, though Peter noticed +that her eyes kept straying round the room. Apparently his friends had +all her attention, but he could see it was not so. She was on the watch +for clients, old or new. He thought how such a girl would have disgusted +him a few short weeks ago, but he did not feel disgusted now. He could +not. He did not know what he felt. He wondered, as he looked, if she were +one of "the multitude," and then the fragment of a text slipped through +his brain: "The Friend of publicans and sinners." "_The_ Friend": the +little adjective struck him as never before. Had they ever had another? +He frowned to himself at the thought, and could not help wondering +vaguely what his Vicar or the Canon would have done in Travalini's. Then +he wondered instantly what that Other would have done, and he found no +answer at all. + +"Yes, but I do not know your friend yet," he heard the girl say, and saw +she was being introduced to Pennell. She held out a decently gloved hand +with a gesture that startled him--it was so like Hilda's. Hilda! The +comparison dazed him. He fancied he could see her utter disgust, and then +he involuntarily shook his head; it would be too great for him to +imagine. What would she have made of the story he had just heard? He +concluded she would flatly disbelieve it.... + +But Julie? He smiled to himself, and then, for the first time, suddenly +asked himself what he really felt towards Julie. He remembered that first +night and the kiss, and how he had half hated it, half liked it. He felt +now, chiefly, anger that Donovan had had one too. One? But he, Peter, +had had two.... Then he called himself a damned fool; it was all of a +piece with her extravagant and utterly unconventional madness. But what, +then, would she say to this? Had she anything in common with it? + +He played with that awhile, blowing out thoughtful rings of smoke. It +struck him that she had, but he was fully aware that that did not +disgust him in the least. It almost fascinated him, just as--that _was_ +it--Hilda's disgust would repel him. Why? He hadn't an idea. + +"Monsieur le Capitaine is very dull," said a girl's voice at his elbow. +He started: Louise had moved to the sofa and was smiling at him. He +glanced towards his companions, Alex was standing, finishing a last +drink; Pennell staring at Louise. + +He looked back at the girl, straight into her eyes, and could not read +them in the least. The darkened eyebrows and the glitter in them baffled +him. But he must speak, "Am I?" he said. "Forgive me, mademoiselle; I was +thinking." + +"Of your fiancée--is it not so? Ah! The Capitaine has his fiancée, then? +In England? Ah, well, the girls in England do not suffer like we girls in +France.... They are proud, too, the English misses. I know, for I have +been there, to--how do you call it?--Folkestone. They walk with the head +in the air," and she tilted up her chin so comically that Peter smiled +involuntarily. + +"No, I do not like them," went on the girl deliberately. "They are +only half alive, I think. I almost wish the Boche had been in your +land.... They are cold, la! And not so very nice to kiss, eh?" + +"They're not all like that," said Pennell. + +"Ah, non? But you like the girls of France the best, mon ami; is it not +so?" She leaned across towards him significantly. + +Pennell laughed. "_Now_, yes, perhaps," he said deliberately; "but after +the war ..." and he shrugged his shoulders, like a Frenchman. + +A shade passed over the girl's face, and she got up. "It is so," she +said lightly. "Monsieur speaks very true--oh, very true! The girls of +France now--they are gay, they are alive, they smile, and it is war, and +you men want these things. But after--oh, I know you English--you'll go +home and be--how do you say?--'respectable,' and marry an English miss, +and have--oh! many, many bébés, and wear the top-hat, and go to church. +There is no country like England...." She made a little gesture. "What do +you believe, you English? In le bon Dieu? Non. In love? Ah, non! In what, +then? Je ne sais!" She laughed again. "What 'ave I said? Forgive me, +monsieur, and you also, Monsieur le Capitaine. But I do see a friend of +mine. See, I go! Bon soir." + +She looked deliberately at Peter a moment, then smiled comprehensively +and left them. Peter saw that Alex had gone already; he asked no +questions, but looked at Pennell inquiringly. + +"I think so, padre; I've had enough of it to-night. Let's clear. We can +get back in time for mess." + +They went out into the darkening streets, crossed an open square, and +turned down a busy road to the docks. They walked quickly, but Peter +seemed to himself conscious of everyone that passed. He scanned faces, +as if to read a riddle in them. There were men who lounged by, gay, +reckless, out for fun plainly, but without any other sinister thought, +apparently. There were Tommies who saluted and trudged on heavily. There +were a couple of Yorkshire boys who did not notice them, flushed, animal, +making determinedly for a destination down the street. There was one man +at least who passed walking alone, with a tense, greedy, hard face, and +Peter all but shuddered. + +The lit shops gave way to a railed space, dark by contrast, and a tall +building of old blackened stone, here and there chipped white, loomed up. +Moved by an impulse, Peter paused, "Let's see if it's open, Pennell," he +said. "Do you mind? I won't be a second." + +"Not a scrap, old man," said Pennell, "I'll come in too." + +Peter walked up to a padded leather-covered door and pushed. It swung +open. They stepped in, into a faintly broken silence, and stood still. + +Objects loomed up indistinctly--great columns, altars, pews. Far away a +light flickered and twinkled, and from the top of the aisle across the +church from the door by which they had entered a radiance glowed and lost +itself in the black spaces of the high roof and wide nave. Peter crossed +towards that side, and his companion followed. They trod softly, like +good Englishmen in church, and they moved up the aisle a little to see +more clearly; and so, having reached a place from which much was visible, +remained standing for a few seconds. + +The light streamed from an altar, and from candles above it set around +a figure of the Mother of God. In front knelt a priest, and behind him, +straggling back in the pews, a score or so of women, some children, and +a blue-coated French soldier or two. The priest's voice sounded thin +and low: neither could hear what he said; the congregation made rapid +responses regularly, but eliding the, to them, familiar words. There was, +then, the murmur of repeated prayer, like muffled knocking on a door, and +nothing more. + +"Let's go," whispered Pennell at last. + +They went out, and shut the door softly behind them. As they did so, some +other door was opened noisily and banged, while footsteps began to drag +slowly across the stone floor and up the aisle they had come down. The +new-comer subsided into a pew with a clatter on the boards, but the +murmured prayers went on unbroken. + +Outside the street engulfed them. The same faces passed by. A street-car +banged and clattered up towards the centre of the town, packed with +jovial people. Pennell looked towards it half longingly. "Great Scott, +Graham! I wish, now, we hadn't come away so soon," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The lower valley of the Seine is one of the most beautiful and +interesting river-stretches in Northern Europe. It was the High Street of +old Normandy, and feuda, barons and medieval monks have left their mark +upon it. From the castle of Tancarville to the abbey of Jumièges +you can read the story of their doings; or when you stand in the Roman +circus at Lillebonne, or enter the ancient cloister of M. Maeterlinck's +modern residence at St. Wandrille, see plainly enough the writing of a +still older legend, such as appeared, once, on the wall of a palace in +Babylon. On the left bank steep hills, originally wholly clothed with +forest and still thickly wooded, run down to the river with few breaks +in them, each break, however, being garrisoned by an ancient town. Of +these, Caudebec stands unrivalled. On the right bank the flat plain of +Normandy stretches to the sky-line, pink-and-white in spring with miles +of apple-orchards. The white clouds chase across its fair blue sky, +driven by the winds from the sea, and tall poplars rise in their uniform +rows along the river as if to guard a Paradise. + +Caudebec can be reached from Le Havre in a few hours, and although cars +for hire and petrol were not abundant in France at the time, one could +find a chauffeur to make the journey if one was prepared to pay. Given +fine weather, it was an ideal place for a day off in the spring. And +Peter knew it. + +In the Grand Magasin Julie had talked of a day off, and a party of four +had been mooted, but when he had leisure to think of it, Peter found +himself averse to four, and particularly if one of the four were to be +Donovan. He admitted it freely to himself. Donovan was the kind of a +man, he thought, that Julie must like, and he was the kind of man, too, +to put him, Peter, into the shade. Ordinarily he asked for no better +companion, but he hated to see Julie and Jack together. He could not make +the girl out, and he wanted to do so. He wanted to know what she thought +about many things, and--incidentally, of course--what she thought about +him. + +He had argued all this over next morning while shaving, and had ended +by cutting himself. It was a slight matter, but it argued a certain +absent-mindedness, and it brought him back to decency. He perceived that +he was scheming to leave his friend out, and he fought resolutely against +the idea. Therefore, that afternoon, he went to the hospital, spent a +couple of hours chatting with the men, and finally wound up in the +nurses' mess-room for tea as usual. It was a little room, long and +narrow, at the end of the biggest ward, but its windows looked over the +sea and it was convenient to the kitchen. Coloured illustrations cut from +magazines and neatly mounted on brown paper decorated the walls, but +there was little else by way of furniture or ornament except a long table +and chairs. One could get but little talk except of a scrappy kind, for +nurses came continually in and out for tea, and, indeed, Julie had only a +quarter of an hour to spare. But he got things fixed up for the following +Thursday, and he left the place to settle with Donovan. + +That gentleman's company of native labour was lodged a mile or so through +the docks from Peter's camp, on the banks of the Tancarville Canal. It +was enlivened at frequent intervals, day and night, by the sirens of +tugs bringing strings of barges to the docks, whence their cargo was +borne overseas in the sea-going tramps, or, of course, taking equally +long strings to the Seine for Rouen and Paris. It was mud and cinders +underfoot, and it was walled off with corrugated-iron sheeting and +barbed wire from the attentions of some hundreds of Belgian refugees who +lived along the canal and parallel roads in every conceivable kind of +resting-place, from ancient bathing-vans to broken-down railway-trucks. +But there were trees along the canal and reeds and grass, so that there +were worse places than Donovan's camp in Le Havre. + +Peter found his friend surveying the endeavours of a gang of boys to +construct a raised causeway from the officers' mess to the orderly-room, +and he promptly broached his object. Donovan was entranced with the +proposal, but he could not go. He was adamant upon it. He could possibly +have got off, but it meant leaving his something camp for a whole day, +and just at present he couldn't. Peter could get Pennell or anyone. +Another time, perhaps, but not now. For thus can the devil trap his +victims. + +Peter pushed back for home on his bicycle, but stopped at the docks on +his way to look up Pennell. That gentleman was bored, weary, and inclined +to be blasphemous. It appeared that for the whole, infernal day he had +had to watch the off-loading of motor-spares, that he had had no lunch, +and that he could not get away for a day next week if he tried. "It isn't +everyone can get a day off whenever he wants to, padre," he said. "In the +next war I shall be ..." Peter turned hard on his heel, and left him +complaining to the derricks. + +He was now all but cornered. There was nobody else he particularly cared +to ask unless it were Arnold, and he could not imagine Arnold and Julie +together. It appeared to him that fate was on his side; it only remained +to persuade Julie to come alone. He pedalled back to mess and dinner, and +then, about half-past eight, strolled round to the hospital again. It was +late, of course, but he was a padre, and the hospital padre, and +privileged. He knew exactly what to do, and that he was really as safe as +houses in doing it, and yet this intriguing by night made him +uncomfortable still. He told himself he was an ass to think so, but he +could not get rid of the sensation. + +Julie would be on duty till 9.30, and he could easily have a couple +of minutes' conversation with her in the ward. He followed the +railway-track, then, along the harbour, and went in under the great roof +of the empty station. On the far platform a hospital train was being made +ready for its return run, but, except for a few cleaners and orderlies, +the place was empty. + +An iron stairway led up from the platform to the wards above. He +ascended, and found himself on a landing with the door of the theatre +open before him. There was a light in it, and he caught the sound of +water; some pro. was cleaning up. He moved down the passage and +cautiously opened the door of the ward. + +It was shaded and still. Somewhere a man breathed heavily, and another +turned in his sleep. Just beyond the red glow of the stove, with the +empty armchairs in a circle before it, were screens from which came a +subdued light. He walked softly between the beds towards them, and looked +over the top. + +Inside was a little sanctum: a desk with a shaded reading-lamp, a chair, +a couch, a little table with flowers upon it and a glass and jug, and on +the floor by the couch a work-basket. Julie was at the desk writing in a +big official book, and he watched her for a moment unobserved. It was +almost as if he saw a different person from the girl he knew. She was at +work, and a certain hidden sadness showed clearly in her face. But the +little brown fringe of hair on her forehead and the dimpled chin were the +same.... + +"Good-evening," he whispered. + +She looked up quickly, with a start, and he noticed curiously how rapidly +the laughter came back to her face. "You did startle me, Solomon," she +said. "What is it?" + +"I want to speak to you a minute about Thursday," he said. "Can I come +in?" + +She got up and came round the screens. "Follow me," she said, "and don't +make a noise." + +She led him across the ward to the wide verandah, opening the door +carefully and leaving it open behind her, and then walked to the +balustrade and glanced down. The hospital ship had gone, and there was +no one visible on the wharf. The stars were hidden, and there was a +suggestion of mist on the harbour, through which the distant lights +seemed to flicker. + +"You're coming on, Solomon," she said mockingly. "Never tell me you'd +have dared to call on the hospital to see a nurse by night a few weeks +ago! Suppose matron came round? There is no dangerous case in my ward." + +"Not among the men, perhaps," said Peter mischievously. "But, look here, +about Thursday; Donovan can't go, nor Pennell, and I don't know anyone +else I want to ask." + +"Well, I'll see if I can raise a man. One or two of the doctors are +fairly decent, or I can get a convalescent out of the officers' +hospital." + +She had the lights behind her, and he could not see her face, but he knew +she was laughing at him, and it spurred him on. "Don't rag, Julie," he +said, "You know I want you to come alone." + +There was a perceptible pause. Then: "I can't cut Tommy," she said. + +"Not for once?" he urged. She turned away from him and looked down at the +water. It is curious how there come moments of apprehension in all our +lives when we want a thing, but know quite well we are mad to want it. +Julie looked into the future for a few seconds, and saw plainly, but +would not believe what she saw. + +When she turned back she had her old manner completely. "You're a dear +old thing," she said, "and I'll do it. But if it gets out that I gadded +about for a day with an officer, even though he is a padre, and that we +went miles out of town, there'll be some row, my boy. Quick now! I must +get back. What's the plan?" + +"Thanks awfully," said Peter. "It will be a rag. What time can you get +off?" + +"Oh, after breakfast easily--say eight-thirty." + +"Right. Well, take the tram-car to Harfleur--you know?--as far as it +goes. I'll be at the terminus with a car. What time must you be in?" + +"I can get late leave till ten, I think," she said. + +"Good! That gives us heaps of time. We'll lunch and tea in Caudebec, and +have some sandwiches for the road home." + +"And if the car breaks down?" + +"It won't," said Peter. "You're lucky in love, aren't you?" + +She did not laugh. "I don't know," she said. "Good-night." + +And then Peter had walked home, thinking of Hilda. And he had sat by the +sea, and come to the conclusion that he was a rotter, but in the web of +Fate and much to be pitied, which is like a man. And then he had played +auction till midnight and lost ten francs, and gone to bed concluding +that he was certainly unlucky--at cards. + +As Peter sat in his car at the Harfleur terminus that Thursday it must be +confessed that he was largely indifferent to the beauties of the Seine +Valley that he had professedly come to see. He was nervous, to begin +with, lest he should be recognised by anyone, and he was in one of his +troubled moods. But he had not long to wait. The tram came out, and he +threw away his cigarette and walked to meet the passengers. + +Julie looked very smart in the grey with its touch of scarlet, but she +was discontented with it. "If only I could put on a few glad rags," she +said as she climbed into the car, "this would be perfect. You men can't +know how a girl comes to hate uniform. It's not bad occasionally, but if +you have to wear it always it spoils chances. But I've got my new shoes +and silk stockings on," she added, sticking out a neat ankle, "and my +skirt is not vastly long, is it? Besides, underneath, if it's any +consolation to you, I've really pretty things. Uniform or not, I see no +reason why one should not feel joyful next the skin. What do you think?" + +Peter agreed heartily, and tucked a rug round her. "There's the more need +for this, then," he said. + +"Oh, I don't know: silk always makes me feel so comfortable that I can't +be cold. Isn't it a heavenly day? We are lucky, you know; it might have +been beastly. Lor', but I'm going to enjoy myself to-day, my dear! I warn +you. I've got to forget how Tommy looked when I put her off with excuses. +I felt positively mean." + +"What did she say?" asked Peter. + +"That she didn't mind at all, as she had got to write letters," said +Julie, "Solomon, Tommy's a damned good sort!... Give us a cigarette, and +don't look blue. We're right out of town." + +Peter got out his case. "Don't call me Solomon to-day," he said. + +Julie threw herself back in her corner and shrieked with laughter. The +French chauffeur glanced round and grimaced appreciatively, and Peter +felt a fool. "What am I to call you, then?" she demanded. "You are a +funny old thing, and now you look more of a Solomon than ever." + +"Call me Peter," he said. + +She looked at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm really +beginning to enjoy myself," she said. "But, look here, you mustn't begin +like this. How in the world do you think we shall end up if you do? +You'll have nothing left to say, and I shall be worn to a rag and a +temper warding off your sentimentality." + +"Julie," said Peter, "are you ever serious? I can't help it, you know, I +suppose because I am a parson, though I am such a rotten one." + +"Who says you're a rotten one?" + +"Everybody who tells the truth, and, besides, I know it. I feel an +absolute stummer when I go around the wards. I never can say a word to +the men." + +"They like you awfully. You know little Jimmy, that kiddie who came in +the other day who's always such a brick? Well, last night I went and sat +with him a bit because he was in such pain. I told him where I was going +to-day as a secret. What do you think he said about you?" + +"I don't want to know," said Peter hastily. + +"Well, you shall. He said if more parsons were like you, more men would +go to church. What do you make of that, old Solomon?" + +"It isn't true to start with. A few might come for a little, but they +would soon fall off. And if they didn't, they'd get no good. I don't know +what to say to them." + +Julie threw away her cigarette-stump. "One sees a lot of human nature in +hospitals, my boy," she said, "and it doesn't leave one with many +illusions. But from what I've seen, I should say nobody does much good by +talking." + +"You don't understand," said Peter. "Look here, I shouldn't call you +religious in a way at all Don't be angry. I don't _know_, but I don't +think so, and I don't think you can possibly know what I mean." + +"I used to do the flowers in church regularly at home," she said. "I +believe in God, though you think I don't." + +Peter sighed. "Let's change the subject," he said. "Have you seen any +more of that Australian chap lately?" + +"Rather! He's engaged to a girl I know, and I reckon I'm doing her a good +turn by sticking to him. He's a bit of a devil, you know, but I think I +can keep him off the French girls a bit." + +Peter looked at her curiously. "You know what he is, and you don't mind +then?" he said. + +"Good Lord, no!" she replied. "My dear boy, I know what men are. It isn't +in their nature to stick to one girl only. He loves Edie all right, and +he'll make her a good husband one day, if she isn't too particular and +inquisitive. If I were married, I'd give my husband absolute liberty--and +I'd expect it in return. But I shall never marry. There isn't a man who +can play fair. They'll take their own pleasures, but they are all as +jealous as possible. I've seen it hundreds of times." + +"You amaze me," said Peter. "Let's talk straight. Do you mean to say that +if you were married and your husband ran up to Paris for a fortnight, and +you knew exactly what he'd gone for, you wouldn't mind?" + +"No," she declared roundly. "I wouldn't. He'd come back all the more fond +of me, I'd know I'd be a fool to expect anything else." + +Peter stared at her. She was unlike anything he had ever seen. Her moral +standards, if she had any, he added mentally, were so different from his +own that he was absolutely floored. He thought grimly that alone in a +motor-car he had got among the multitude with a vengeance. "Have you +ever been in love?" he demanded. + +She laughed. "Solomon, you're the quaintest creature. Do you think I'd +tell you if I had been? You never ought to ask anyone that. But if you +want to know, I've been in love hundreds of times. It's a queer disease, +but not serious--at least, not if you don't take it too seriously." + +"You don't know what love is at all," he said. + +She faced him fairly and unashamed. "I do," she said, "It's an animal +passion for the purpose of populating the earth. And if you ask me, I +think it is rather a dirty trick on the part of God." + +"You don't mean that," he said, distressed. + +She laughed again merrily, and slipped her hand into his under the rug. +"Peter," she said--"there, am I not good? You aren't made to worry about +these things. I don't know that anyone is. We can't help ourselves, and +the best thing is to take our pleasures when we can find them. I suppose +you'll be shocked at me, but I'm not going to pretend. I wasn't built +that way. If this were a closed car I'd give you a kiss." + +"I don't want that sort of a kiss," he said. "That was what you gave me +the other night. I want...." + +"You don't know what you want, my dear, though you think you do. You +shouldn't be so serious. I'm sure I kiss very nicely--plenty of men think +so? anyway, and if there is nothing in that sort of kiss, why not kiss? +Is there a Commandment against it? I suppose our grandmothers thought so, +but we don't. Besides, I've been east of Suez, where there ain't no ten +Commandments. There's only one real rule left in life for most of us, +Peter, and that's this: 'Be a good pal, and don't worry.'" + +Peter sighed. "You and I were turned out differently, Julie," he said. +"But I like you awfully. You attract me so much that I don't know how to +express it. There's nothing mean about you, and nothing sham. And I +admire your pluck beyond words. It seems to me that you've looked life in +the face and laughed. Anybody can laugh at death, but very few of us at +life. I think I'm terrified of it. And that's the awful part about it +all, for I ought to know the secret, and I don't. I feel an absolute +hypocrite at times--when I take a service, for example. I talk about +things I don't understand in the least, even about God, and I begin +to think I know nothing about Him...." He broke off, utterly miserable. + +"Poor old boy," she said softly; "is it as bad as that?" + +He turned to her fiercely. "You darling!" he said, carried away by her +tone. "I believe I'd rather have you than--than God!" + +She did not move in her corner, nor did she smile now. "I wonder," she +said slowly. "Peter, it's you that hate shams, not I. It's you that are +brave, not I. I play with shams because I know they're shams, but I like +playing with them. But you are greater than I. You are not content with +playing. One of these days--oh, I don't know...." She broke off and +looked away. + +Peter gripped her hand tightly. "Don't, little girl," he said. "Let's +forget for to-day. Look at those primroses; they're the first I've seen. +Aren't they heavenly?" + +They ran into Caudebec in good time, and lunched at an hotel overlooking +the river, with great enthusiasm. To Peter it was utterly delicious to +have her by him. She was as gay as she could possibly be, and made fun +over everything. Sitting daintily before him, her daring, unconventional +talk carried him away. She chose the wine, and after _dèjeuner_ sat with +her elbows on the table, puffing at a cigarette, her brown eyes alight +with mischief, apparently without a thought for to-morrow. + +"Oh, I say," she said, "do look at that party in the corner. The old +Major's well away, and the girl'll have a job to keep him in hand, I +wonder where they're from? Rouen, perhaps; there was a car at the door. +What do you think of the girl?" + +Peter glanced back. "No better than she ought to be," he said. + +"No, I don't suppose so, but they are gay, these French girls. I don't +wonder men like them. And they have a hard time. I'd give them a leg up +any day if I could. I can't, though, so if ever you get a chance do it +for me, will you?" + +Peter assented. "Come on," he said. "Finish that glass if you think you +can, and let's get out." + +"Here's the best, then, I've done. What are we going to see?" + +For a couple of hours they wandered round the old town, with its narrow +streets and even fifteenth-century houses, whose backs actually leaned +over the swift little river that ran all but under the place to the +Seine. They penetrated through an old mill to its back premises, and +climbed precariously round the water-wheel to reach a little moss-grown +platform from which the few remaining massive stones of the Norman wall +and castle could still be seen. The old abbey kept them a good while, +Julie interested Peter enormously as they walked about its cool aisles, +and tried to make out the legends of its ancient glass. She had nothing +of that curious kind of shyness most people have in a church, and that he +would certainly have expected of her. She joked and laughed a little in +it--at a queer row of mutilated statues packed into a kind of chapel to +keep quiet out of the way till wanted, at the vivid red of the Red Sea +engulfing Pharaoh and all his host--but not in the least irreverently. He +recalled a saying of a book he had once read in which a Roman Catholic +priest had defended the homeliness of an Italian congregation by saying +that it was right for them to be at home in their Father's House. It +was almost as if Julie were at home, yet he shrank from the inference. + +She was entirely ignorant of everything, except perhaps, of a little +biblical history, but she made a most interested audience. Once he +thought she was perhaps egging him on for his own pleasure, but when he +grew more silent she urged him to explain. "It's ripping going round with +somebody who knows something," she said. "Most of the men one meets know +absolutely nothing. They're very jolly, but one gets tired. I could +listen to you for ages." + +Peter assured her that he was almost as ignorant as they, but she was +shrewdly insistent. "You read more, and you understand what you read," +she said. "Most people don't. I know." + +They bought picture post-cards off a queer old woman in a peasant +head-dress, and then came back to the river and sat under the shade of +a line of great trees to wait for the tea the hotel had guaranteed them. +Julie now did all the talking--of South Africa, of gay adventures in +France and on the voyage, and of the men she had met. She was as frank +as possible, but Peter wondered how far he was getting to know the real +girl. + +Tea was an unusual success for France. It was real tea, but then there +was reason for that, for Julie had insisted on going into the big +kitchen, to madame's amusement and monsieur's open admiration, and making +it herself. But the chocolate cakes, the white bread and proper butter, +and the cream, were a miracle. Peter wondered if you could get such +things in England now, and Julie gaily told him that the French made laws +only to break them, with several instances thereof. She declared that if +a food-ration officer existed in Caudebec he must be in love with the +landlady's daughter and that she only wished she could get to know such +an official in Havre. The daughter in question waited on them, and Julie +and she chummed up immensely. Finally she was despatched to produce a +collection of Army badges and buttons--scalps Julie called them. When +they came they turned them over. All ranks were represented, or nearly +so, and most regiments that either could remember. There were Canadian, +Australian, and South African badges, and at last Julie declared that +only one was wanting. + +"What will you give for this officer's badge?" she demanded, seizing hold +of one of Peter's Maltese crosses. + +The girl looked at it curiously. "What is it?" she said. + +"It's the badge of the Sacred Legion," said Julie gravely. "You know +Malta? Well, that's part of the British Empire, of course, and the +English used to have a regiment there to defend it from the Turks. It was +a great honour to join, and so it was called the Sacred Legion. This +officer is a Captain in it." + +"Shut up Julie," said Peter, _sotto voce_. + +But nothing would stop her. "Come now," she said. "What will you give? +You'll give her one for a kiss, won't you, Solomon?" + +The girl laughed and blushed "Not before mademoiselle," she said, looking +at Peter. + +"Oh, I'm off," cried Julie, "I'll spare you one, but only one, remember." +and she deliberately got up and left them. + +Mademoiselle was "tres jolie," said the girl, collecting her badges. +Peter detached a cross and gave it her, and she demurely put up her +mouth. He kissed her lightly, and walked leisurely out to settle the bill +and call the car. He had entirely forgotten his depression, and the world +seemed good to him. He hummed a little song by the water's edge as he +waited, and thought over the day. He could never remember having had such +a one in his life. Then he recollected that one badge was gone, and he +abstracted the other. Without his badges he would not be known as a +chaplain. + +When Julie appeared, she made no remark, as he had half-expected. They +got in, and started off back in the cooling evening. Near Tancarville +they stopped the car to have the hood put up, and strolled up into the +grounds of the old castle while they waited. + +"Extraordinary it must have been to have lived in a place like this," +said Peter. + +"Rather," said Julie, "and beyond words awful to the women. I cannot +imagine what they must have been like, but I think they must have been +something like native African women." + +"Why?" queried Peter. + +"Oh, because a native woman never reads and hardly goes five miles from +her village. She is a human animal, who bears children and keeps the +house of her master, that's all. That's what these women must have done." + +"The Church produced some different types," said Peter; "but they had no +chance elsewhere, perhaps. Still, I expect they were as happy as we, +perhaps happier." + +"And their cows were happier still, I should think," laughed Julie. "No, +you can't persuade me. I wouldn't have been a woman in those days for the +world." + +"And now?" asked Peter. + +"Rather! We have much the best time on the whole. We can do what we like +pretty well. If we want to be men, we can. We can put on riding-breeches, +even, and run a farm. But if we like, we can wear glad rags and nice +undies, and be more women than ever." + +"And in the end thereof?" Peter couldn't help asking. + +"Oh," said Julie lightly, "one can settle down and have babies if one +wants to. And sit in a drawing-room and talk scandal as much as one +likes. Not that I shall do either, thank you. I shall--oh, I don't know +what I shall do. Solomon, you are at your worst. Pick me some of those +primroses, and let's be going. You never can tell: we may have to walk +home yet." + +Peter plucked a few of the early blooms, and she pushed them into her +waist-belt. Then they went back to the car, and got in again. + +"Cold?" he asked, after a little. + +"A bit," she said. "Tuck me up, and don't sit in that far corner all the +time. You make me feel chilly to look at you. I hate sentimental people, +but if you tried hard and were nice I could work up quite a lot of +sentiment just now." + +He laughed, and tucked her up as required. Then he lit a cigarette and +slipped his arm round her waist. "Is that better?" he said. + +"Much. But you can't have had much practice. Now tell me stories." + +Peter had a mind to tell her several, but he refrained, and they grew +silent, "Do you think we shall have another day like this?" he demanded, +after a little. + +"I don't see why not," she said. "But one never knows, does one? The +chances are we shan't. It's a queer old world." + +"Let's try, anyway; I've loved it," he said. + +"So have I," said Julie. "It's the best day I've had for a long time, +Peter. You're a nice person to go out with, you know, though I mustn't +flatter you too much. You should develop the gift; it's not everyone that +has it." + +"I've no wish to," he said. + +"You are an old bear," she laughed; "but you don't mean all you say, or +rather you do, for you will say what you mean. You shouldn't, Peter. It's +not done nowadays, and it gives one away. If you were like me, now, you +could say and do anything and nobody would mind. They'd never know what +you meant, and of course all the time you'd mean nothing." + +"So you mean nothing all the time?" he queried. + +"Of course," she said merrily. "What do you think?" + +That jarred Peter a little, so he said nothing and silence fell on them, +and at the Hôtel de Ville in the city he asked if she would mind +finishing alone. + +"Not a bit, old thing, if you want to go anywhere," she said. + +He apologised. "Arnold--he's our padre--is likely to be at the club, and +I promised I'd walk home with him," he lied remorselessly. "It's beastly +rude, I know, but I thought you'd understand." + +She looked at him, and laughed. "I believe I do," she said. + +He stopped the car and got out, settling with the man, and glancing up at +a clock. "You'll be in at nine-forty-five," he said, "as proper as +possible. And thank you so much for coming." + +"Thank you, Solomon," she replied. "It's been just topping. Thanks +awfully for taking me. And come in to tea soon, won't you?" He promised +and held out his hand. She pressed it, and waved out of the window as the +car drove off. And no sooner was it in motion than he cursed himself for +a fool. Yet he knew why he had done as he had, there, in the middle of +the town. He knew that he feared she would kiss him again--as before. + +Not noticing where he went, he set off through the streets, making, +unconsciously almost, for the sea, and the dark boulevards that led from +the gaily lit centre of the city towards it. He walked slowly, his mind a +chaos of thoughts, and so ran into a curious adventure. + +As he passed a side-street he heard a man's uneven steps on the pavement, +a girl's voice, a curse, and the sound of a fall. Then followed an +exclamation in another woman's voice, and a quick sentence in French. + +Peter hesitated a minute, and then turned down the road to where a small +group was faintly visible. As he reached it, he saw that a couple of +street girls were bending over a man who lay sprawling on the ground, and +he quickened his steps to a run. His boots were rubber-soled, and all but +noiseless. "Here, I say," he said as he came up. "Let that man alone. +What are you doing?" he added in halting French. One of the two girls +gave a little scream, but the other straightened herself, and Peter +perceived that he knew her. It was Louise, of Travalini's. + +"What are you doing?" he demanded again in English. "Is he hurt?" + +"Non, non, monsieur," said Louise. "He is but 'zig-zag.' We found him a +little way down the street, and he cannot walk easily. So we help him. If +the gendarme--how do you call him?--the red-cap, see him, maybe he will +get into trouble. But now you come. You will doubtless help him. +Vraiment, he is in luck. We go now, monsieur." + +Peter bent over the fallen man. He did not know him, but saw he was a +subaltern, though a middle-aged man. The fellow was very drunk, and did +little else than stutter curses in which the name of our Lord was +frequent. + +Peter pulled at his arm, and Louise stooped to help him. Once up, he got +his arm round him, and demanded where he lived. + +The man stared at them foolishly. Peter gave him a bit of a shake, and +demanded the address again, "Come on," he said. "Pull yourself together, +for the Lord's sake. We shall end before the A.P.M. if you don't. What's +your camp, you fool?" + +At that the man told him, stammeringly, and Peter sighed his relief. +"I know," he said to Louise. "It's not far. I'll maybe get a taxi at the +corner." She pushed him towards a doorway: "Wait a minute," she said. +"I live here; it's all right. I will get a fiacre. I know where to find +one." + +She darted away. It seemed long to Peter, but in a few minutes a horn +tooted and a cab came round the corner. Between them, they got the +subaltern in, and Peter gave the address. Then he pulled out his purse +before stepping in himself, opened it, found a ten-franc note, and +offered it to Louise. + +The girl of the street and the tavern pushed it away. "La!" she +exclaimed. "Vite! Get in. Bon Dieu! Should I be paid for a kindness? Poor +boy! he does not know what he does. He will 'ave a head--ah! terrible--in +the morning. And see, he has fought for la patrie." She pointed to a gold +wound-stripe on his arm. "Bon soir, monsieur." + +She stepped back and spoke quickly to the driver, who was watching +sardonically. He nodded. "Bon soir, monsieur," she said again, and +disappeared in the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +A few weeks later the War Office--if it was the War Office, but one gets +into the habit of attributing these things to the War Office--had one of +its regular spasms. It woke up suddenly with a touch of nightmare, and it +got fearfully busy for a few weeks before going to sleep again. All +manner of innocent people were dragged into the vortex of its activities, +and blameless lives were disturbed and terrorised. This particular +enthusiasm involved even such placid and contented souls as the +Chaplain-General, the Principal Chaplain, their entire staffs and a great +many of their rank and file. It created a new department, acquired many +additional offices for the B.E.F., dragged from their comfortable billets +a certain number of high-principled base officers, and then (by the mercy +of Providence) flickered out almost as soon as the said officers bad made +themselves a little more comfortable than before in their new posts. + +It was so widespread a disturbance that even Peter Graham, most harmless +of men, with plenty of his own fish to fry, was dragged into it, as some +leaf, floating placidly downstream, may be caught and whirled away in an +excited eddy. More definitely, it removed him from Havre and Julie just +when he was beginning to want most definitely to stay there, and of +course, when it happened, he could hardly know that it was to be but a +temporary separation. + +He was summoned, then, one fine morning, to his A.C.G.'s office in town, +and he departed on a bicycle, turning over in his mind such indiscretions +of which he had been guilty and wondering which of them was about to trip +him. Pennell had been confident, indeed, and particular. + +"You're for it, old bean," he had said. "There's a limit to the patience +even of the Church. They are going to say that there is no need for you +to visit hospitals after dark, and that their padres mustn't be seen out +with nurses who smoke in public. And all power to their elbow, I say." + +Peter's reply was certainly not in the Prayer-Book, and would probably +have scandalised its compilers, but he thought, secretly, that there +might be something in what his friend said. Consequently he rode his +bicycle carelessly, and was indifferent to tram-lines and some six inches +of nice sticky mud on parts of the _pavé_. In the ordinary course, +therefore, these things revenged themselves upon him. He came off neatly +and conveniently opposite a small _café debit_ at a turn in the dock +road, and the mud prevented the _pavé_ from seriously hurting him. + +A Frenchman, minding the cross-lines, picked him up, and he, madame, +her assistant, and a customer, carried him into the kitchen off the +bar and washed and dried him. The least he could do was a glass of +French beer all round, with a franc to the dock labourer who straightened +his handle-bars and tucked in a loose spoke, and for all this the War +Office--if it was the War Office, for it may, quite possibly, have been +Lord Northcliffe or Mr. Bottomley, or some other controller of our +national life--was directly responsible. When one thinks that in a +hundred places just such disturbances were in progress in ten times as +many innocent lives, one is appalled at their effrontery. They ought to +eat and drink more carefully, or take liver pills. + +However, in due time Peter sailed up to the office of his immediate chief +but little the worse for wear, and was ushered in. He was prepared for a +solitary interview, but he found a council of some two dozen persons, who +included an itinerant Bishop, an Oxford Professor, a few Y.M.C.A. ladies, +and--triumph of the A.C.G.--a Labour member. Peter could not conceive +that so great a weight of intellect could be involved in his affairs, and +took comfort. He seated himself on a wooden chair, and put on his most +intelligent appearance; and if it was slightly marred by a mud streak +at the back of his ear, overlooked by madame's kindly assistant who had +attended to that side of him, he was not really to blame. Again, it was +the fault of Lord Northcliffe or--or any of the rest of them. + +It transpired that he was slightly late: the Bishop had been speaking. He +was a good Bishop and eloquent, and, as the A.C.G. who now rose to take +the matter in hand remarked, he had struck the right note. In all +probability it was due to Peter's having missed that note that he was so +critical of the scheme. The note would have toned him up. He would have +felt a more generous sympathy for the lads in the field, and would have +been more definitely convinced that something must be done. If not +plainly stated in the Holy Scriptures, his lordship had at least found it +indicated there, but Peter was not aware of this. He only observed that +the note had made everyone solemn and intense except the Labour member. +That gentleman, indeed, interrupted the A.C.G. before he was fairly on +his legs with the remark: "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but as this is an +informal conference, does anyone mind if I smoke?"... + +Peter's A.C.G. was anything but a fool, and the nightmare from +Headquarters had genuinely communicated itself to him. He felt all he +said, and he said it ably. He lacked only in one regard: he had never +been down among the multitude. He knew exactly what would have to have +been in his own mind for him to act as he believed some of them were +acting, and he knew exactly how he would, in so deplorable a condition of +affairs, have set about remedying it. These things, then, he stated +boldly and clearly. As he proceeded, the Y.M.C.A. ladies got out +notebooks, the Professor allowed himself occasional applause, and the +Labour member lit another pipe. + +It appeared that there was extreme unrest and agitation among the troops, +or at least a section of the troops, for no one could say that the armies +in the field were not magnificent. They had got to remember that the +Tommy of to-day was not as the Tommy of yesterday--not that he suffered +by comparison, but that he was far better educated and far more inclined +to think for himself. They were well aware that a little knowledge was a +dangerous thing, or, again, as his friend the Bishop would have doubtless +put it, how great a matter a little fire kindleth. There was no escaping +it: foreign propaganda, certain undesirable books and papers--books and +papers, he need hardly say, outside the control of the reputable +Press--and even Socialistic agitators, were abroad in the Army. He did +not wish to say too much; it was enough to remind them of what, possibly, +they already knew, that certain depots on certain occasions had refused +to sing the National Anthem, and were not content with their wages. +Insignificant as these things might be in detail, G.H.Q. had felt there +was justifiable cause for alarm. This meeting had gathered to consider +plans for a remedy. + +Now he thanked God that they were not Prussians. There must be no attempt +at coercion. A war for liberty must be won by free people. One had, of +course, to have discipline in the Army, but theirs was to-day a citizen +Army. His friend who had left his parliamentary duties to visit France +might rest assured that the organizations represented there that morning +would not forget that. In a word, Tommy had a vote, and he was entitled +to it, and should keep it. One day he should even use it; and although no +one could wish to change horses crossing a stream, still, they hoped that +day would speedily come--the day of peace and victory. + +But meantime, what was to be done? As the Bishop had rightly said, +something must be done. Resolute on this point, H.Q. had called in the +C.G. and the P.C. and, he believed, expert opinion on both sides the +House of Commons; and the general opinion agreed upon was that Tommy +should be educated to vote correctly when the time came, and to wait +peacefully for that time. The Professor could tell them of schemes even +now in process of formation at home in order that the land they loved +might be cleaner, sweeter, better and happier, in the days to come. But +Tommy, meantime, did not know of these things. He was apparently under +the delusion that he must work out his own salvation, whereas, in point +of fact, it was being worked out for him scientifically and religiously. +If these things were clearly laid before him, H.Q. was convinced that +agitation, dissatisfaction, and even revolution--for there were those who +thought they were actually trending in that direction--would be nipped in +the bud. + +The scheme was simple and far-reaching. Lectures would be given all over +the areas occupied by British troops. Every base would be organised in +such a way that such lectures and even detailed courses of study should +be available for everyone. Every chaplain, hutworker, and social +entertainer must do his or her bit. They must know how to speak wisely +and well--not all in public, but, everyone as the occasion offered, +privately, in hut or camp, to inquiring and dissatisfied Tommies. They +would doubtless feel themselves insufficient for these things, but +study-circles were to be formed and literature obtained which would +completely furnish them with information. He would conclude by merely +laying on the table a bundle of the splendid papers and tracts already +prepared for this work. The Professor would now outline what was being +attempted at home, and then the meeting would be open for discussion. + +The Professor was given half an hour, and he made an excellent speech for +a cornered and academic theorist. The first ten minutes he devoted to +explaining that he could not explain in the time; in the second, +tempering the wind to the shorn lamb, he pointed out that it was no use +his outlining schemes not yet completed, or that they could read for +themselves, or that, possibly, without some groundwork, they could not +understand; and in the third ten minutes he outlined the committees +dealing with the work and containing such well-known names as Robert +Smiley, Mr. Button, and Clydens. He sat down. Everyone applauded--the +M.P., and possibly the A.C.G., because they honestly knew and respected +these gentlemen, and the rest because they felt they ought to do so. The +meeting was then opened for discussion. + +Peter took no part in what followed, and, indeed, nothing +over-illuminating was said save one remark, cast upon the waters by the +Labour member, which was destined to be found after many days. They were +talking of the lectures, and one of the ladies (Peter understood a Girton +lecturer) was apparently eager to begin without delay. The M.P. begged to +ask a question: Were there to be questions and a discussion? + +The A.C.G. glanced at a paper before him, and rose. He apologised for +omitting to mention it before, but H.Q. thought it would be subverse of +all discipline if, let us say, privates should be allowed to get up and +argue with the officers who might have addressed them. They all knew +what might be said in the heat of argument. Also, if he might venture to +say so, some of their lecturers, though primed with the right lecture, +might not be such experts that they could answer every question, and +plainly failure to satisfy a questioner might be disastrous. But +questions could be written and replies given at the next lecture. He +thought, smiling, that some of them would perhaps find that convenient. + +The M.P. leaned back in his chair. "Well, sir," he said, "I'm sorry to be +a wet-blanket, but if that is so, the scheme is wrecked from the start. +You don't know the men; I do. They're not going to line up, like the +pupils of Dotheboys Academy, for a spoonful of brimstone and treacle." + +The meeting was slightly scandalised. The chairman, however, rose to the +occasion. That, he said, was a matter for H.Q. They were there to do +their duty. And, being an able person, he did his. In ten minutes they +were formed into study-bands and were pledged to study, with which +conclusion the meeting adjourned. + +Peter was almost out of the door when he heard his name called, and +turning, saw the A.C.G. beckoning him. He went up to the table and shook +hands. + +"Do you know the Professor?" asked his superior. "Professor, this is Mr. +Graham." + +"How do you do?" said the man of science. "You are Graham of Balliol, +aren't you? You read Political Science and Economics a little at Oxford, +I think? You ought to be the very man for us, especially as you know how +to speak." + +Peter was confused, but, being human, a little flattered. He confessed to +the sins enumerated, and waited for more. + +"Well," said the A.C.G., "I've sent in your name already, Graham, and +they want you to go to Abbeville for a few weeks. A gathering is to be +made there of the more promising material, and you are to get down to the +work of making a syllabus, and so on. You will meet other officers from +all branches of the Service, and it should be interesting and useful. I +presume you will be willing to go? Of course it is entirely optional, but +I may say that the men who volunteer will not be forgotten." + +"Quite so," said the Professor. "They will render extremely valuable +service. I shall hope to be there part of the time myself." + +Peter thought quickly of a number of things, as one does at such a +moment. Some of them were serious things, and some quite frivolous--like +Julie. But he could hardly do otherwise than consent. He asked when he +should have to go. + +"In a few days. You'll have plenty of time to get ready. I should advise +you to write for some books, and begin to read up a little, for I expect +you are a bit rusty, like the rest of us. And I shall hope to have you +back lecturing in this Army area before long." + +So to speak, bowed out, Peter made his way home. In the Rue de Paris +Julie passed him, sitting with a couple of other nurses in an ambulance +motor-lorry, and she waved her hand to him. The incident served to +depress him still more, and he was a bit petulant as he entered the mess. +He flung his cap on the table, and threw himself into a chair. + +"Well," said Pennell, who was there, "on the peg all right?" + +"Don't be a fool!" said Peter sarcastically. "I'm wanted on the Staff. +Haig can't manage without me. I've got to leave this perishing suburb and +skip up to H.Q., and don't you forget it, old dear. I shall probably be a +Major-General before you get your third pip. Got that?" + +Pennell took his pipe from his mouth. "What's in the wind now?" he +demanded. + +"Well, you might not have noticed it, but I'm a political and economic +expert, and Haig's fed up that you boys don't tumble to the wisdom of the +centuries as you ought. Consequently I've got to instruct you. I'm going +to waltz around in a motor-car, probably with tabs up, and lecture. And +there aren't to be any questions asked, for that's subversive of +discipline." + +"Good Lord, man, do talk sense! What in the world do you mean?" + +"I mean jolly well what I say, if you want to know, or something precious +like it. The blinking Army's got dry-rot and revolutionary fever, and we +may all be murdered in our little beds unless I put a shoulder to the +wheel. That's a bit mixed, but it'll stand. I shall be churning out this +thing by the yard in a little." + +"Any extra pay?" demanded Pennell anxiously. "I can lecture on +engineering, and would do for an extra sixpence. Whisky's going up, and +I haven't paid my last mess bill." + +"You haven't, old son," said Arnold, coming in, "and you've jolly well +got to. Here's a letter for you, Graham." + +Peter glanced at the envelope and tore it open. Pennell knocked his pipe +out with feigned dejection. "The fellow makes me sick, padre," he said. +"He gets billets-doux every hour of the blessed day." + +Peter jumped up excitedly. "This is better," he said. "It's a letter from +Langton at Rouen, a chap I met there who writes occasionally. He's been +hauled in for this stunt himself, and is to go to Abbeville as well. By +Jove, I'll go up with him if I can. Give me some paper, somebody. I'll +have to write to him at once, or we'll boss it." + +"And make a will, and write to a dozen girls, I should think," said +Pennell. "I don't know what the blooming Army's coming to. Might as well +chuck it and have peace, I think. But meantime I've got to leave you +blighted slackers to gad about the place, and go and do an honest day's +work. _I_ don't get Staff jobs and red tabs. No; I help win the ruddy +war, that's all. See you before you go, Graham, I suppose? They'll likely +run the show for a day or two more without you. There'll be time for you +to stand a dinner on the strength of it yet." + +A week later Peter met Langton by appointment in the Rouen club, the two +of them being booked to travel that evening via Amiens to Abbeville. His +tall friend was drinking a whisky-and-soda in the smoke-room and talking +with a somewhat bored expression to no less a person than Jenks of the +A.S.C. + +Peter greeted them. "Hullo!" he said to the latter. "Fancy meeting you +here again. Don't say you're going to lecture as well?" + +"The good God preserve us!" exclaimed Jenks blasphemously. "But I am off +in your train to Boulogne. Been transferred to our show there, and +between ourselves, I'm not sorry to go. It's a decent hole in some ways, +Boulogne, and it's time I got out of Rouen. You're a lucky man, padre, +not to be led into temptation by every damned girl you meet. I don't know +what they see in me," he continued mournfully, "and, at this hour of the +afternoon, I don't know what I see in them." + +"Nor do I," said Langton. "Have a drink, Graham? There'll be no getting +anything on the ruddy train. We leave at six-thirty, and get in somewhere +about four a.m. next morning, so far as I can make out." + +"You don't sound over-cheerful," said Graham. + +"I'm not. I'm fed up over this damned lecture stunt! The thing's +condemned to failure from the start, and at any rate it's no time for it. +Fritz means more by this push than the idiots about here allow. He may +not get through; but, on the other hand, he may. If he does, it's UP with +us all. And here we are to go lecturing on economics and industrial +problems while the damned house is on fire!" + +Peter took his drink and sat down. "What's your particular subject?" he +asked. + +"The Empire. Colonies. South Africa. Canada. And why? Because I took a +degree in History in Cambridge, and have done surveying on the C.P.R. +Lor'! Finish that drink and have another." + +They went together to the station, and got a first to themselves, in +which they were fortunate. They spread their kit about the place, +suborned an official to warn everyone else off, and then Peter and +Langton strolled up and down the platform for half an hour, as the +train was not now to start till seven. Somebody told them there was +a row on up the line, though it was not plain how that would affect +them. Jenks departed on business of his own. A girl lived somewhere +in the neighbourhood. + +"How're you getting on now, padre?" asked Langton. + +"I'm not getting on," said Peter. "I'm doing my job as best I can, and +I'm seeing all there is to see, but I'm more in a fog than ever. I've got +a hospital at Havre, and I distribute cigarettes and the news of the day. +That's about all. I get on all right with the men socially, and now and +again I meet a keen Nonconformist who wants me to pray with him, or an +Anglican who wants Holy Communion, but not many. When I preach I rebuke +vice, as the Apostle says, but I'm hanged if I really know why." + +Langton laughed. "That's a little humorous, padre," he said. "What about +the Ten Commandments?" + +Peter thought of Julie. He kicked a stone viciously. "Commandments are no +use," he said--"not out here." + +"Nor anywhere," said Langton, "nor ever, I think, too. Why do you suppose +I keep moderately moral? Chiefly because I fear natural consequences and +have a wife and kiddies that I love. Why does Jenks do the opposite? +Because he's more of a fool or less of a coward, and chiefly loves +himself. That's all, and that's all there is in it for most of us." + +"You don't fear God at all, then?" demanded Peter. + +"Oh that I knew where I might find him!" quoted Langton. "I don't believe +He thundered on Sinai, at any rate." + +"Nor spoke in the Sermon on the Mount?" + +"Ah, I'm not so sure but it seems to me that He said too much or He +said too little there, Graham. One can't help 'looking on' a woman +occasionally. And in any case it doesn't seem to me that the Sermon is +anything like the Commandments. Brotherly love is behind the first, fear +of a tribal God behind the second. So far as I can see, Christ's creed +was to love and to go on loving and never to despair of love. Love, +according to Him, was stronger than hate, or commandments or preaching, +or the devil himself. If He saved souls at all, He saved them by loving +them whatever they were, and I reckon He meant us to do the same. What do +you make of the woman taken in adultery, and the woman who wiped His feet +with her hair? Or of Peter? or of Judas? He saved Peter by loving him +when he thought he ought to have the Ten Commandments and hell fire +thrown at his head and I reckon He'd have saved Judas by giving him that +sop-token of love if he hadn't had a soul that could love nothing but +himself." + +"What is love, Langton?" asked Peter, after a pause. + +The other looked at him curiously, and laughed. "Ask the Bishops," he +said. "Don't ask me. I don't know. Living with the woman to whom you're +married because you fear to leave her, or because you get on all right, +is not love at any rate. I can't see that marriage has got much to do +with it. It's a decent convention of society at this stage of development +perhaps, and it may sign and seal love for some people. But I reckon +love's love--a big positive thing that's bigger than sin, and bigger than +the devil. I reckon that if God sees that anywhere, He's satisfied. I +don't think Cranmer's marriage service affects Him much, nor the laws +of the State. If a man cares to do without either, he runs a risk, of +course. Society's hard on a woman, and man's meant to be a gregarious +creature. But that's all there is in it." + +"But how can you tell lust from love?" demanded Peter. + +"You can't, I think," said Langton. "Most men can't, anyway. Women may +do, but I don't know. I reckon that what they lust after mostly is babies +and a home. I don't think they know it any more than men know that what +they're after is the gratification of a passion; but there it is. We're +sewer rats crawling up a damned long drain, if you ask me, padre! I don't +know who said it, but it's true." + +They turned in their walk, and Peter looked out over the old town. In the +glow of sunset the thin iron modern spire of the cathedral had a grace +not its own, and the roofs below it showed strong and almost sentient. +One could imagine that the distant cathedral brooding over the city +heard, saw, and spoke, if in another language than the language of men. + +"If that were all, Langton," said Peter suddenly, "I'd shoot myself." + +"You're a queer fellow, Graham," said Langton. "I almost think you might. +I'd like to know what becomes of you, anyway. Forgive me--I don't mean to +be rude--but you may make a parson yet. But don't found a new religion +for Heaven's sake, and don't muddle up man-made laws and God-made +instincts--if they are God-made," he added. + +Peter said nothing, until they were waiting at the carriage-door for +Jenks. Then he said: "Then you think out here men have simply abandoned +conventions, and because there is no authority or fear or faith left to +them, they do as they please?" + +Langton settled himself in a corner. "Yes," he said, "that's right in a +way. But that's negatively. I'd go farther than that. Of course, there +are a lot of Judas Iscariots about for whom I shouldn't imagine the devil +himself has much time, though I suppose we ought not to judge 'em, but +there are also a lot of fine fellows--and fine women. They are men and +women, if I understand it, who have sloughed off the conventions, that +are conventions simply for convention's sake, and who are reaching out +towards the realities. Most of them haven't an idea what those are, but +dumbly they know. Tommy knows, for instance, who is a good chum and who +isn't; that is, he knows that sincerity and unselfishness and pluck are +realities. He doesn't care a damn if a chap drinks and swears and commits +what the Statute-Book and the Prayer-Book call fornication. And he +certainly doesn't think there is an ascending scale of sins, or at +any rate that you parsons have got the scale right." + +"I shouldn't be surprised if we haven't," said Peter. "The Bible lumps +liars and drunkards and murderers and adulterers and dogs--whatever that +may mean--into hell altogether." + +"That's so," said Langton, sticking a candle on the window-sill; "but I +reckon that's not so much because they lie or drink or murder or lust +or--or grin about the city like our friend Jenks, who'll likely miss the +boat for that very reason, but because of something else they all have in +common." + +"What's that?" demanded Peter. + +"I haven't the faintest idea," said Langton. + +At this moment the French guard, an R.T.O., and Jenks appeared in sight +simultaneously, the two former urging the latter along. He caught sight +of them, and waved. + +"Help him in," said the R.T.O., a jovial-looking subaltern, +genially--"and keep him there," he added under his voice. +"He's had all he can carry, and if he gets loose again he'll +be for the high jump. The wonder is he ever got back in +time." + +Peter helped him up. The subaltern glanced at his badges and smiled. +"He's in good company anyway, padre," he said. "If you're leaving the +ninety-and-nine in the wilderness, here's one to bring home rejoicing." +He slammed the door. "Right-o!" he said to the guard; "they're all aboard +now." The man comprehended the action, and waved a flag. The train +started after the manner of French trains told off for the use of British +soldiers, and Jenks collapsed on the seat. + +"Damned near thing that!" he said unsteadily; "might have missed the +bloody boat! I saw my little bit, though. She's a jolly good sort, she +is. Blasted strong stuff that French brandy, though! Whiskies at the club +first, yer know. Give us a hand, padre; I reckon I'll just lie down +a bit.... Jolly good sort of padre, eh, skipper? What?" + +Peter helped him into his place, and then came and sat at his feet, +opposite Langton, who smiled askance at him. "I'll read a bit," he said. +"Jenks won't trouble us further; he'll sleep it off. I know his sort. Got +a book, padre?" + +Peter said he had, but that he wouldn't read for a little, and he sat +still looking at the country as they jolted past in the dusk. After a +while Langton lit his candle, and contrived a wind-screen, for the centre +window was broken, of a newspaper. Peter watched him drowsily. He had +been up early and travelled already that day. The motion helped, too, and +in half an hour or so he was asleep. + +He dreamt that he was preaching Langton's views on the Sermon on the +Mount in the pulpit of St. John's, and that the Canon, from his place +beside the credence-table within the altar-rails, was shouting at him to +stop. In his dream he persisted, however, until that irate dignitary +seized the famous and massive offertory-dish by his side and hurled it +in the direction of the pulpit. The clatter that it made on the stone +floor awoke him. + +He was first aware that the train was no longer in motion, and next that +Langton's tall form was leaning half out of the window. Then confused +noises penetrated his consciousness, and he perceived that light +flickered in the otherwise darkened compartment. "Where are we?" he +demanded, now fully awake. "What's up?" + +Langton answered over his shoulder. "Some where outside of a biggish +town," he said; "and there's the devil of a strafe on. The whole +sky-line's lit up, but that may be twenty miles off. However, Fritz +must have advanced some." + +He was interrupted by a series of much louder explosions and the rattle +of machine-gun fire. "That's near," he said. "Over the town, I should +say--an air-raid, though it may be long-distance firing. Come and see for +yourself." + +He pulled himself back into the carriage, and Peter leaned out of the +window in his turn. It was as the other had said. Flares and sudden +flashes, that came and went more like summer-lightning than anything +else, lit up the whole sky-line, but nearer at hand a steady glow from +one or two places showed in the sky. One could distinguish flights of +illuminated tracer bullets, and now and again what he took to be Very +lights exposed the countryside. Peter saw that they were in a siding, the +banks of which reached just above the top of the compartments. It was +only by craning that he could see fields and what looked like a house +beyond. Men were leaning out of all the windows, mostly in silence. In +the compartment next them a man cursed the Huns for spoiling his beauty +sleep. It was slightly overdone, Peter thought. + +"Good God!" said, his companion behind him. "Listen!" + +It was difficult, but between the louder explosions Peter concentrated +his senses on listening. In a minute he heard something new, a faint buzz +in the air. + +"Aeroplanes," said Langton coolly. "I hope they don't spot us. Let me +see. Maybe it's our planes." He craned out in Peter's place. "I can't see +anything," he said, "and you can hear they're flying high." + +Down the train everyone was staring upwards now. "Christ!" exclaimed +Langton suddenly, "some fool's lighting a pipe! Put that match out +there," he called. + +Other voices took him up. "That's better," he said in a minute. "Forgive +my swearing, padre, but a match might give us away." + +Peter was silent, and, truth to tell, terrified. He tried hard not to +feel it, and glanced at Jenks. He was still asleep, and breathing +heavily. He pressed his face against the pane, and tried to stare up too. + +"They're coming," said Langton suddenly and quickly. "There they are, +too--Hun planes. They may not see us, of course, but they may...." He +brought his head in again and sat down. + +"Is there anything we can do?" said Peter. + +"Nothing," said Langton, "unless you like to get under the seat. But +that's no real good. It's on the knees of the gods, padre, whatever gods +there be." + +Just then Peter saw one. Sailing obliquely towards them and lit by the +light of a flare, the plane looked serene and beautiful. He watched it, +fascinated. + +"It's very low--two hundred feet, I should say," said Langton behind him. +"Hope he's no pills left. I wonder whether there's another. Let's have a +look the other side." + +He had scarcely got up to cross the compartment when the rattle of a +machine-gun very near broke out. "Our fellows, likely," he exclaimed +excitedly, struggling with the sash, but they knew the truth almost as he +spoke. + +Langton ducked back. A plane on the other side was deliberately flying up +the train, machine-gunning. "Down, padre, for God's sake!" he exclaimed, +and threw himself on the floor. + +Peter couldn't move. He heard the splintering of glass and a rending of +woodwork, some oaths, and a sudden cry. The whirr of an engine filled his +ears and seemed, as it were, on top of them. Then there was a crash all +but at his side, and next instant a half-smothered groan and a dreadful +gasp for breath. + +He couldn't speak. He heard Langton say, "Hit, anyone?" and then Jenks' +"They've got me, skipper," in a muffled whisper, and he noticed that the +hard breathing had ceased. At that he found strength and voice and jumped +up. He bent over Jenks. "Where have you got it, old man?" he said, and +hardly realised that it was himself speaking. + +The other was lying just as before, on his back, but he had pulled his +knees up convulsively and a rug had slipped off. In a flare Peter saw +beads of sweat on his forehead and a white, twisted face. + +He choked back panic and knelt down. He had imagined it all before, and +yet not quite like this. He knew what he ought to say, but for a minute +he could not formulate it. "Where are you hit, Jenks?" was all he said. + +The other turned his head a little and looked at him. "Body--lungs, I +think," he whispered. "I'm done, padre; I've seen chaps before." + +The words trailed off. Peter gripped himself mentally, and steadied his +voice. "Jenks, old man," he said. "Just a minute. Think about God--you +are going to Him, you know. Trust Him, will you? 'The blood of Jesus +Christ, God's Son, saveth us from all sin.'" + +The dying man, moved his hand convulsively. "Don't you worry, padre," he +said faintly; "I've been--confirmed." The lips tightened a second with +pain, and then: "Reckon I won't--shirk. Have you--got--a cigarette?" + +Peter felt quickly for his case, fumbled and dropped one, then got +another into his fingers. He hesitated a second, and then, put it to his +own lips, struck a match, and puffed at it. He was in the act of holding +it to the other when Langton spoke behind him: + +"It's no good now, padre," he said quietly; "it's all over." + +And Peter saw that it was. + +The planes did not come back. The officer in charge of the train came +down it with a lantern, and looked in. "That makes three," he said. "We +can do nothing now, but we'll be in the station in a bit. Don't show any +lights; they may come back. Where the hell were our machines, I'd like to +know?" + +He went on, and Peter sat down in his corner. Langton picked up the rug, +and covered up the body. Then he glanced at Peter. "Here," he said, +holding out a flask, "have some of this." + +Peter shook his head. Langton came over to him. "You must," he said; +"it'll pull you together. Don't go under now, Graham. You kept your nerve +just now--come on." + +At that Peter took it, and drained the little cup the other poured out +for him. Then he handed it back, without a word. + +"Feel better?" queried the other, a trifle curiously, staring at him. + +"Yes, thanks," said Peter--"a damned sight better! Poor old Jenks! What +blasted luck that he should have got it!... Langton, I wish to God it had +been me!" + + + + +PART II + +"And the Lord turned and looked upon Peter." + +ST. LUKE'S GOSPEL. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The charm of the little towns of Northern France is very difficult to +imprison on paper. It is not exactly that they are old, although there is +scarcely one which has not a church or a château or a quaint medieval +street worth coming far to see; nor that they are particularly +picturesque, for the ground is fairly flat, and they are all but always +set among the fields, since it is by agriculture far more than by +manufacture that they live. But they are clean and cheerful; one thinks +of them under the sun; and they are very homely. In them the folk smile +simply at you, but not inquisitively as in England, for each bustles +gaily about his own affairs, and will let you do what you please, with a +shrug of the shoulders. Abbeville is very typical of all this. It has its +church, and from the bridge over the Somme the backs of ancient houses +can be seen leaning half over the river, which has sung beneath them for +five hundred years; and it is set in the midst of memories of stirring +days. Yet it is not for these that one would revisit the little town, but +rather that one might walk by the still canal under the high trees in +spring, or loiter in the market-place round what the Hun has left of the +statue of the famous Admiral with his attendant nymphs, or wander down +the winding streets that skirt the ancient church and give glimpses of +its unfinished tower. + +Peter found it very good to be there in the days that followed the death +of Jenks. True, it was now nearer to the seat of war than it had been for +years, and air-raids began to be common, but in a sense the sound of the +guns fitted in with his mood. So great a battle was being fought within +him that the world could not in any case have seemed wholly at peace, and +yet in the quiet fields, or sauntering of an afternoon by the river, he +found it easier than at Havre to think. Langton was almost his sole +companion, and a considerable intimacy had grown up between them. Peter +found that his friend seemed to understand a great deal of his thoughts +without explanation. He neither condoled nor exhorted; rather he watched +with an almost shy interest the other's inward battle. + +They lodged at the Hôtel de l'Angleterre, that hostelry in the street +that leads up and out of the town towards Saint Riquier, which you +enter from a courtyard that opens on the road and has rooms that you +reach by means of narrow, rickety flights of stairs and balconies +overhanging the court. The big dining-room wore an air of gloomy +festivity. Its chandeliers swathed in brown paper, its faded paint, and +its covered upholstery, suggested that it awaited a day yet to be when it +should blossom forth once more in glory as in the days of old. Till then +it was as merry as it could be. Its little tables filled up of an evening +with the new cosmopolitan population of the town, and old Jacques bustled +round with the good wine, and dropped no hint that the choice brands were +nearly at an end in the cellar. + +Peter and Langton would have their war-time apology for _petit déjeuner_ +in bed or alone. Peter, as a rule, was up early, and used to wander out a +little and sometimes into church, coming back to coffee as good as ever, +but war-time bread instead of rolls on a small table under a low balcony +in the courtyard if it were fine. He would linger over it, and have +chance conversation with passing strangers of all sorts, from clerical +personages belonging to the Church Army or the Y.M.C.A. to officers who +came and went usually on unrevealed affairs. Then Langton would come +down, and they would stroll round to the newly-fitted-up office which had +been prepared for the lecture campaign and glance at maps of districts, +and exchange news with the officer in charge, who, having done all he +could, had now nothing to do but stand by and wait for the next move from +a War Office that had either forgotten his existence or discovered some +hitch in its plans. They had a couple of lectures from people who were +alleged to know all about such topics as the food shortage at home or the +new plans for housing, but who invariably turned out to be waiting +themselves for the precise information that was necessary for successful +lectures. After such they would stroll out through the town into the +fields, and Langton would criticise the thing in lurid but humorous +language, and they would come back to the club and sit or read till +lunch. + +The club was one of the best in France, it was an old house with lovely +furniture, and not too much of it, which stood well back from the street +and boasted an old-fashioned garden of shady trees and spring flowers and +green lawns. Peter could both read and write in its rooms, and it was +there that he finally wrote to Hilda, but not until after much thought. + +After his day with Julie at Caudebec one might have supposed that there +was nothing left for him to do but break off his engagement to Hilda. But +it did not strike him so. For one thing, he was not engaged to Julie or +anything like it, and he could not imagine such a situation, even if +Julie had not positively repudiated any desire to be either engaged or +married. He had certainly declared, in a fit of enthusiasm, that he loved +her, but he had not asked if she loved him. He had seen her since, but +although they were very good friends, nothing more exciting had passed +between them. Peter was conscious that when he was with Julie she +fascinated him, but that when he was away--ah! that was it, when he was +away? It certainly was not that Hilda came back and took her place; it +was rather that the other things in his mind dominated him. It was a +curious state of affairs. He was less like an orthodox parson than he had +ever been, and yet he had never thought so much about religion. He +agonised over it now. At times his thoughts were almost more than he +could bear. + +It came, then, to this, that he had not so much changed towards Hilda as +changed towards life. Whether he had really fundamentally changed in such +a way that a break with the old was inevitable he did not know. Till then +Hilda was part of the old, and if he went back to it she naturally took +her old place in it. If he did not--well, there he invariably came to the +end of thought. Curiously enough, it was when faced with a mental blank +that Julie's image began to rise in his mind. If he admitted her, he +found himself abandoning himself to her. He felt sometimes that if he +could but take her in his arms he could let the world go by, and God with +it. Her kisses were at least a reality. There was neither convention nor +subterfuge nor divided allegiance there. She was passion, naked and +unashamed, and at least real. + +And then he would remember that much of this was problematical after all, +for they had never kissed as that passion demanded, or at least that he +had never so kissed her. He was not sure of the first. He knew that he +did not understand Julie, but he felt, if he did kiss her, it would be a +kiss of surrender, of finality. He feared to look beyond that, and he +could not if he would. + +He wrote, then, to Hilda, and he told of the death of Jenks, and of their +arrival in Abbeville, "You must understand, dear," he said, "that all +this has had a tremendous effect upon me. In that train all that I had +begun to feel about the uselessness of my old religion came to a head. I +could do no more for that soul than light a cigarette.... Possibly no one +could have done any more, but I cannot, I will not believe it. Jenks was +not fundamentally evil, or at least I don't think so. He was rather a +selfish fool who had no control, that is all. He did not serve the devil; +it was much more that he had never seen any master to serve. And I could +do nothing. I had no master to show him. + +"You may say that that is absurd: that Christ is my Master, and I could +have shown Him. Hilda, so He is: I cling passionately to that. But +listen: I can't express Him, I don't understand Him. I no longer feel +that He was animating and ordering the form of religion I administered. +It is not that I feel Anglicanism to be untrue, and something else--say +Wesleyanism--to be true; it is much more that I feel them all to be out +of touch with reality. _That's_ it. I don't think you can possibly see +it, but that is the main trouble. + +"That, too, brings me to my next point, and this I find harder still to +express. I want you to realise that I feel as if I had never seen life +before. I feel as if I had been shown all my days a certain number of +pictures and told that they were the real thing, or given certain +descriptions and told that they were true. I had always accepted that +they were. But, Hilda, they are not. Wickedness is not wicked in the way +that I was told it was wicked, and what I was told was salvation is not +the salvation men and women want. I have been playing in a fool's +paradise all these years, and I've got outside the gate. I am distressed +and terrified, I think, but underneath it all I am very glad.... + +"You will say, 'What are you going to do?' and I can only reply, I don't +know. I'm not going to make any vast change, if you mean that. A padre I +am, and a padre I shall stay for the war at least, and none of us can see +beyond that at present. But what I do mean to do is just this: I mean to +try and get down to reality myself and try to weigh it up. I am going to +eat and drink with publicans and sinners; maybe I shall find my Master +still there." + +Peter stopped and looked up. Langton was stretched out in a chair beside +him, reading a novel, a pipe in his mouth. Moved by an impulse, he +interrupted him. + +"Old man," he said, "I want you to let me read you a bit of this letter. +It's to my girl, but there's nothing rotten in reading it. May I?" + +Langton did not move. "Carry on," he said shortly. + +Peter finished and put down the sheet. The other smoked placidly and said +nothing. "Well?" demanded Peter impatiently. + +"I should cut out that last sentence," pronounced the judge. + +"Why? It's true." + +"Maybe, but it isn't pretty." + +"Langton," burst out Peter, "I'm sick of prettinesses! I've been stuffed +up with them all my life, and so has she. I want to break with them." + +"Very likely, and I don't say that it won't be the best thing for you to +try for a little to do so, but she hasn't been where you've been or seen +what you've seen. You can't expect her wholly to understand. And more +than that, maybe she is meant for prettinesses. After all, they're +pretty." + +Peter stabbed the blotting-paper with his pen. "Then she isn't meant for +me," he said. + +"I'm not so sure," said Langton. "I don't know that you've stuff enough +in you to get on without those same prettinesses yourself. Most of us +haven't. And at any rate I wouldn't burn my boats yet awhile. You may +want to escape yet." + +Peter considered this in silence. Then he drew the sheets to him and +added a few more words, folded the paper, put it in the envelope, and +stuck it down. "Come on," he said, "let's go and post this and have a +walk." + +Langton got up and looked at him curiously, as he sometimes did. "Peter," +he said, "you're a weird blighter, but there's something damned gritty in +you. You take life too strenuously. Why can't you saunter through it like +I do?" + +Peter reached for this cap. "Come on," he said again, "and don't talk +rot." + +Out in the street, they strolled aimlessly on, more or less in silence. +The big book-shop at the corner detained them for a little, and they +regarded its variegated contents through the glass. It contained a few +good prints, and many more poorly executed coloured pictures of ruined +places in France and Belgium, of which a few, however, were not bad. +Cheek by jowl with some religious works, a statue of Notre Dame d'Albert, +and some more of Jeanne d'Arc, were a line of pornographic novels and +beyond packets of picture post-cards entitled _Théâtreuses, Le Bain de la +Parisienne, Les Seins des Marbre_, and so on. Then Langton drew Graham's +attention to one or two other books, one of which had a gaudy cover +representing a mistress with a birch-rod in her hands and a number of +canes hung up beside her, while a girl of fifteen or so, with very red +cheeks, was apparently about to be whipped. "Good Lord," said Langton, +"the French are beyond me. This window is a study for you, Graham, in +itself. I should take it that it means that there is nothing real in +life. It is utterly cynical. + +"'And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, +End in what All begins and ends in--Yes; +Think then you are To-day what Yesterday +You were--To-morrow you shall not be less,'" + +he quoted. + +"Yes," said Peter. "Or else it means that there are only two realities, +and that the excellent person who keeps this establishment regards both +in a detached way, and conceives it her business to cater for each. Let's +go on." + +They turned the corner, and presently found themselves outside the famous +carven door of the church. "Have you ever been round?" asked Peter. + +"No," said Langton; "let's go in." + +They passed through the door into the old church, which, in contrast to +that at Le Havre, was bathed in the daylight that streamed through many +clear windows. Together they wandered round it, saying little. They +inspected an eighteenth-century statue of St. Roch, who was pulling up +his robe to expose a wound and looking upwards at the same time +seraphically--or, at least, after the manner that the artist of that age +had regarded as seraphic. A number of white ribbons and some wax figures +of feet and hands and other parts of the body were tied to him. They +stood before a wonderful coloured alabaster reredos of the fourteenth +century, in which shepherds and kings and beasts came to worship at the +manger. They had a little conversation as to the architectural periods of +the nave, choir, and transepts, and Langton was enthusiastic over a noble +pillar and arch. Beyond they gazed in silence at a statue of Our Lady +Immaculate in modern coloured plaster, so arranged that the daylight +fell through an unseen opening upon her. Among the objects in front were +a pair of Renaissance candlesticks of great beauty. A French officer came +up and arranged and lit a votive candle as they watched, and then went +back to stand in silence by a pillar. The church door banged and two +peasants came in, one obviously from the market, with a huge basket of +carrots and cabbages and some long, thin French loaves. She deposited +this just inside the door, took holy water, clattered up towards the high +altar, dropped a curtsy, and made her way to an altar of the Sacred +Heart, at which she knelt. Peter sighed. "Come on," he said; "let's +get out." + +Langton marched on before him, and held the door back as they stepped +into the street. "Well, philosopher," he demanded, "what do you make of +that?" + +Peter smiled. "What do you?" he said. + +"Well," said Langton, "it leaves me unmoved, except when I'm annoyed by +the way their wretched images spoil the church, but it is plain that they +like it. I should say one of your two realities is there. But I find it +hard to forgive the bad art." + +"Do you?" said Peter, "I don't. It reminds me of those appalling +enlargements of family groups that you see, for example, in any Yorkshire +cottage. They are unutterably hideous, but they stand for a real thing +that is honest and beautiful--the love of home and family. And by the +same token, when the photographs got exchanged, as they do in Mayfair, +for modern French pictures of nude women, or some incredible Futurist +extravagance, that love has usually flown out of the window." + +"Humph!" said Langton--"not always. Besides, why can't a family group be +made artistically, and so keep both art and love? I should think we ought +to aim at that." + +"I suppose we ought," said Peter, "but in our age the two don't seem to +go together. Goodness alone knows why. Why, hullo!" he broke off. + +"What's up now?" demanded Langton. + +"Why, there, across the street, if that isn't a nurse I know from Havre, +I don't know who it is. Wait a tick." + +He crossed the road, and saw, as he got near, that it was indeed Julie. +He came up behind her as she examined a shop-window. "By all that's +wonderful, what are you doing here?" he asked. + +She turned quickly, her eyes dancing. "I wondered if I should meet you," +she said. "You see, your letter told me you were coming here, but I +haven't heard from you since you came, and I didn't know if you had +started your tour or not. _I_ came simply enough. There's a big South +African hospital here, and we had to send up a batch of men by motor. +As they knew I was from South Africa, they gave me the chance to come +with them." + +"Well, I _am_ glad," said Peter, devouring the sight of her. "Wait a +minute; I must introduce you to Langton. He and I are together, and he's +a jolly good chap." + +He turned and beckoned Langton, who came over and was introduced. They +walked up the street a little way together. "Where are you going now?" +asked Peter. + +"Back to the hospital," said Julie. "A car starts from the square at +twelve-forty-five, and I have to be in for lunch." + +"Have you much to do up there?" asked Peter. + +"Oh no," she said, "my job's done. I clear off the day after to-morrow. +We only got in last night, so I get a couple of days' holiday. What are +you doing? You don't look any too busy." + +Peter glanced across at Langton and laughed. "We aren't," he said. "The +whole stunt's a wash-out, if you ask me, and we're really expecting to be +sent back any day. There's too much doing now for lectures. Is the +hospital full?" + +"Packed," said Julie gravely. "The papers say we're falling back steadily +so as not to lose men, but the facts don't bear it out. We're crammed +out. It's ghastly; I've never known it so bad." + +Peter had hardly ever seen her grave before, and her face showed a new +aspect of her. He felt a glow of warmth steal over him. "I say," he said, +"couldn't you dine with us to-night? We're at the Angleterre, and its +tremendously respectable." + +She laughed, her gravity vanishing in a minute. "I must say," she said, +"that I'd love to see you anywhere really respectable. He's a terrible +person for a padre--don't you think so, Captain Langton?" + +"Terrible," said Langton. "But really the Angleterre is quite proper. You +don't get any too bad a dinner, either. Do come, Miss Gamelyn." + +She appeared to consider. "I might manage it," she said at last, stopping +just short of entering the square; "but I haven't the nerve to burst in +and ask for you. Nor will it do for you to see me all the way to that +car, or we shall have a dozen girls talking. If you will meet me +somewhere," she added, looking at Peter, "I'll risk it. I'll have a +headache and not go to first dinner; then the first will think I'm at the +second, and the second at the first. Besides, I've no duty, and the +hospital's not like Havre. It's all spread out in huts and tents, and +it's easy enough to get in. Last, but not least, it's Colonial, and the +matron is a brick. Yes, I'll come." + +"Hurrah!" said Peter. "I tell you what: I'll meet you at the +cross-roads below the hospital and bring you on. Will that do? What +time? Five-thirty?" + +"Heavens! do you dine at five-thirty?" demanded Julie. + +"Well, not quite, but we've got to get down," said Peter, laughing. + +"All right," said Julie, "five-thirty, and the saints preserve us. Look +here, I shall chance it and come in mufti if possible. No one knows me +here." + +"Splendid!" said Peter. "Good-bye, five-thirty." + +"Good-bye," said Langton; "we'll go and arrange our menu." + +"There must be champagne," called Julie merrily over her shoulder, and +catching his eye. + +The two men watched her make for the car across the sunlit square, then +they strolled round it towards a café. "Come on," said Langton; "let's +have an appetiser." + +From the little marble-topped table Peter watched the car drive away. +Julie was laughing over something with another girl. It seemed to +conclude the morning, somehow. He raised his glass and looked at Langton. +"Well," he said, "here's to reality, wherever it is." + +"And here's to getting along without too much of it," said Langton, +smiling at him. + + * * * * * + +The dinner was a great success--at least, in the beginning. Julie wore a +frock of some soft brown stuff, and Peter could hardly keep his eyes off +her. He had never seen her out of uniform before, and although she was +gay enough, she said and did nothing very exciting. If Hilda had been +there she need hardly have behaved differently, and for a while Peter was +wholly delighted. Then it began to dawn on him that she was playing up to +Langton, and that set in train irritating thoughts. He watched the other +jealously, and noticed how the girl drew him out to speak of his travels, +and how excellently he did it, leaning back at coffee with his cigarette, +polite, pleasant, attractive. Julie, who usually smoked cigarette after +cigarette furiously, only, however, getting through about half of each, +now refused a second, and glanced at the clock about 8.30. + +"Oh," she said, "I must go." + +Peter remonstrated. "If you can stay out later at Havre," he said, "why +not here?" + +She laughed lightly. "I'm reforming," she said, "in the absence of bad +companions. Besides, they are used to my being later at Havre, but here I +might be spotted, and then there would be trouble. Would you fetch my +coat, Captain Graham?" + +Peter went obediently, and they all three moved out into the court. + +"Come along and see her home, Langton," he said, though he hardly knew +why he included the other. + +"Thanks," said his friend; "but if Miss Gamelyn will excuse me, I ought +not. I've got some reading I must do for to-morrow, and I want to write a +letter or two as well. You'll be an admirable escort, Graham." + +"Good-night," said Julie, holding out her hand; "perhaps we shall meet +again some time. One is always running up against people in France. And +thank you so much for your share of the entertainment." + +In a few seconds Peter and she were outside. The street was much +darkened, and there was no moon. They walked in silence for a little. +Suddenly he stopped. "Wouldn't you like a cab?" he said; "we might be +able to get one." + +Julie laughed mischievously, and Peter gave a little start in the dark. +It struck him that this was the old laugh and that he had not heard it +that night before. "It's convenient, of course," she said mockingly. "Do +get one by all means. But last time I came home with you in a cab, you +let me finish alone. I thought that was to be an invariable rule." + +"Oh, don't Julie," said Peter. + +Her tone changed. "Why not?" she demanded. "Solomon, what's made you so +glum to-night? You were cheerful enough when you met me, and when we +began; then you got silent. What's the matter?" + +"Nothing," he said. + +She slipped her hand in his arm. "There is something," she said. "Do tell +me." + +"Do you like Langton?" he asked. + +"Oh, immensely--why? Oh, Lord, Solomon, what do you mean?" + +"You were different in his presence, Julie, from anything you've been +before." + +They took a few paces in silence; then Peter had an idea, and glanced at +her. She was laughing silently to herself. He let her hand fall from his +arm, and looked away. He knew he was behaving like an ass, but he could +not help it. + +She stopped suddenly. "Peter," she said, "I want to talk to you. Take me +somewhere where it's possible." + +"At this hour of the evening? What about being late?" + +She gave a little stamp with her foot, then laughed again. "What a boy it +is!" she said. "Don't you know anywhere to go?" + +Peter hesitated; then he made up his mind. There was an hotel he knew of, +out of the main street, of none too good a reputation. Some men had taken +Langton and him there, once, in the afternoon, between the hours in which +drinks were legally sold, and they had gone through the hall into a +little back-room that was apparently partly a sitting-room, partly part +of the private rooms of the landlord, and had been served there. He +recalled the description of one of the men: "It's a place to know. You +can always get a drink, and take in anyone you please." + +"Come on, then," he said, and turned down a back-street. + +"Where in the world are you taking me?" demanded Julie. "I shall have no +reputation left if this gets out." + +"Nor shall I," said Peter. + +"Nor you will; what a spree! Do you think it's worth it, Peter?" + +Under a shaded lamp they were passing at the moment, he glanced at her, +and his pulses raced! "Good God, Julie!" he said, "you could do anything +with me." + +She chuckled with laughter, her brown eyes dancing. "Maybe," she said, +"but I'm out to talk to you for your good now." + +They turned another corner, into an old street, and under an arch. Peter +walked forward to the hotel entrance, and entered. There was a woman in +the office, who glanced up, and looked, first at Peter, then at Julie. On +seeing her behind him, she came forward. "What can I do for monsieur?" +she asked. + +"Good-evening, madame," said Peter. "I was here the other day. Give us a +bottle of wine in that little room at the back, will you?" + +"Why, certainly, monsieur," said she. "Will madame follow me? It is this +way." + +She opened, the door, and switched on the light, "Shall I light the fire, +madame?" she demanded. + +Julie beamed on her. "Ah, yes; that would be jolly," she said. "And the +wine, madame--Beaune." + +The woman smiled and bowed. "Let madame but seat herself and it shall +come," she said, and went out. + +Julie took off her hat, and walked to the glass, patting her hair. "Give +me a cigarette, my dear," she said. "It was jolly hard only to smoke one +to-night." + +Peter opened and handed her his case in silence, then pulled up a big +chair. There was a knock at the door, and a girl came in with the wine +and glasses, which she set on the table, and, then knelt down to light +the fire. She withdrew and shut the door. They were alone. + +Peter was still standing. Julie glanced at him, and pointed to a chair +opposite. "Give me a drink, and then go and sit there," she said. + +He obeyed. She pulled her skirts up high to the blaze and pushed one foot +out to the logs, and sat there, provocative, sipping her wine and puffing +little puffs of smoke from her cigarette. "Now, then," she said, "what +did I do wrong to-night?" + +Peter was horribly uncomfortable. He felt how little he knew this girl, +and he felt also how much he loved her. + +"Nothing, dear," he said; "I was a beast." + +"Well," she said, "if you won't tell me, I'll tell you. I was quite +proper to-night, immensely and intensely proper, and you didn't like it. +You had never seen me so. You thought, too, that I was making up to your +friend. Isn't that so?" + +Peter nodded. He marvelled that she should know so well, and he wondered +what was coming. + +"I wonder what you really think of me, Peter," she went on. "I suppose +you think I never can be serious--no, I won't say serious--conventional. +But you're very stupid; we all of us can be, and must be sometimes. You +asked me just now what I thought of your friend--well, I'll tell you. +He is as different from you as possible. He has his thoughts, no doubt, +but he prefers to be very tidy. He takes refuge in the things you throw +overboard. He's not at all my sort, and he's not yours either, in a way. +Goodness knows what will happen to either of us, but he'll be Captain +Langton to the end of his days. I envy that sort of person intensely, +and when I meet him I put on armour. See?" + +Peter stared at her. "How is he different from Donovan?" he asked. + +"Donovan! Oh, Lord, Peter, how dull you are! Donovan has hardly a thought +in his head about anything except Donovan. He was born a jolly good sort, +and he's sampled pretty well everything. He's cool as a cucumber, though +he has his passions like everyone else. If you keep your head, you can +say or do anything with Donovan. But Langton is deliberate. He knows +about things, and he refuses and chooses. I didn't want ..." She broke +off. "Peter," she said savagely, "in two minutes that man would know more +about me than you do, if I let him." + +He had never seen her so. The childish brown eyes had a look in them that +reminded him of an animal caught in a trap. He sprang up and dropped on +his knees by her side, catching her hand. + +"Oh, Julie, don't," he said. "What do you mean? What is there about you +that I don't know? How are you different from either of them?" + +She threw her cigarette away, and ran her fingers through his hair, then +made a gesture, almost as if pushing something away, Peter thought, and +laughed her old ringing trill of laughter. + +"Lor', Peter, was I tragic? I didn't mean to be, my dear. There's a lot +about me that you don't know, but something that you've guessed. I can't +abide shams and conventions really. Let's have life, I say, whatever it +is. Heavens! I've seen street girls with more in them than I pretended to +your friend to have in me to-night. They at least deal with human nature +in the raw. But that's why I love you; there's no need to pretend to you, +partly because, at bottom, you like real things as much as I, and partly +because--oh, never mind." + +"Julie, I do mind--tell me," he insisted. + +Her face changed again. "Not now, Peter," she said. "Perhaps one day--who +can say? Meantime, go on liking me, will you?" + +"Like you!" he exclaimed, springing up, "Why, I adore you! I love you! +Oh, Julie, I love you! Kiss me, darling, now, quick!" + +She pushed him off. "Not now," she cried; "I've got to have my revenge. +I know why you wouldn't come home in the cab! Come! we'll clink glasses, +but that's all there is to be done to-night!" She sprang up, flushed and +glowing, and held out an empty glass. + +Peter filled hers and his, and they stood opposite to each other. She +looked across the wine at him, and it seemed to him that he read a +longing and a passion in her eyes, deep down below the merriness that was +there now. "Cheerio, old boy," she said, raising hers. "And 'here's to +the day when your big boots and my little shoes lie outside the same +closed door!'" + +"Julie!" he said, "you don't mean it!" + +"Don't I? How do you know, old sober-sides. Come, buck up, Solomon; we've +been sentimental long enough. I'd like to go to a music-hall now or do a +skirt-dance. But neither's really possible; certainly not the first, and +you'd be shocked at the second. I'm half a mind to shock you, though, +only my skirt's not long and wide enough, and I've not enough lace +underneath. I'll spare you. Come on!" + +She seized her hat and put it on. They went out into the hall. There +was a man in uniform there, at the office, and a girl, French and +unmistakable, who glanced at Julie, and then turned away. Julie nodded to +madame, and did not glance at the man, but as she passed the girl she +said distinctly, "Bon soir, mademoiselle." The girl started and turned +towards her. Julie smiled sweetly and passed on. + +Peter took her arm in the street, for it was quite dark and deserted. + +"Why did you do that?" he said. + +"What?" she demanded. + +"Speak to that girl. You know what she is?" + +"I do--a poor devil that's playing with Fate for the sake of a laugh and +a bit of ribbon. I'm jolly sorry for her, for they are both worth a great +deal, and it's hard to be cheated into thinking you've got them when Fate +is really winning the deal. And I saw her face before she turned away. +Why do you think she turned away, Peter? Not because she was ashamed, but +because she is beginning to know that Fate wins. Oh, la! la! what a +world! Let's be more cheerful. _'There's a long, long trail a-winding.'_" +she hummed. + +Peter laughed. "Oh, my dear," he said, "was there ever anyone like you?" + +Langton was reading in his room when Peter looked in to say good-night. + +"Hullo!" he said. "See her home?" + +"Yes," said Peter. "What did you think of her?" + +"She's fathoms deep, I should say. But I should take care if I were you, +my boy. It's all very well to eat and drink with publicans and sinners, +though, as I told you, it's better no one should know. But they are +dangerous company." + +"Why especially?" demanded Peter. + +Langton stretched himself. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "Perhaps because +society's agin 'em." + +"Look here, Langton," said Peter. "Do you hear what I say? _Damn_ +society! Besides, do you think your description applies to that girl?" + +Langton smiled. "No," he said, "I shouldn't think so, but she's not your +sort, Peter. When you take that tunic off, you've got to put on a black +coat. Whatever conclusions you come to, don't forget that." + +"Have I?" said Peter; "I wonder." + +Langton got up. "Of course you have," he said. "Life's a bit of a farce, +but one's got to play it. See here, I believe in facing facts and getting +one's eyes open, but not in making oneself a fool. Nothing's worth that." + +"Isn't it?" said Peter; and again, "I wonder." + +"Well, I don't, and at any rate I'm for bed. Good-night." + +"Good-night," said Peter; "I'm off too. But I don't agree with you. I'm +inclined to think exactly the opposite--that anything worth having is +worth making oneself a fool over. What is a fool, anyway? Good-night." + +He closed the door, and Langton walked over to the window to open it. He +stood there a few minutes listening to the silence. Then a cock crew +somewhere, and was answered far away by another. "Yes," said Langton to +himself, "what is a fool, anyway?" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The Lessing family sat at dinner, and it was to be observed that some of +those incredible wonders at which Peter Graham had once hinted to Hilda +had come about. There were only three courses, and Mr. Lessing had but +one glass of wine, for one thing; for another he was actually in uniform, +and was far more proud of his corporal's stripes than he had previously +been of his churchwarden's staff of office. Nor was he only in the +Volunteers; he was actually in training to some extent, and the war had +at any rate done him good. His wife was not dressed for dinner either; +she had just come in from a war committee of some sort. A solitary maid +waited on them, and they had already given up fires in the dining-room. +Not that Mr. Lessing's income had appreciably diminished, but, quite +honestly, he and his were out to win the war. He had come to the +conclusion at last that business could not go on as usual, but, routed +out of that stronghold, he had made for himself another. The war was +now to him a business. He viewed it in that light. + +"We must stop them," he was saying. "Mark my words, they'll never get to +Amiens. Did you see Haig's last order to the troops? Not another inch was +to be given at any cost. We shan't give either. We've _got_ to win this +war; there's too much at stake for us to lose. Whoever has to foot the +bill for this business is ruined, and it's not going to be Great Britain. +They were saying in the Hall to-night that the Army is as cheerful as +possible: that's the best sign. I doubt the German Army is. Doesn't +Graham say anything about it, Hilda?" + +"No, father," said Hilda shortly, and bent over her plate. + +"'Xtraordinary thing. He's a smart chap, and I should have thought he'd +have been full of it. Perhaps he's too far back." + +"He was in a big town he doesn't name the other day, in an air-raid, and +a man was killed in his carriage." + +"Good Lord! you don't say so? When did you hear that? I thought we had +command of the air." + +"I got a letter to-night, father. He just mentioned that, but he doesn't +say much else about it. He's at Abbeville now, on the Somme, and he says +the Germans come over fairly often by night." + +"Impossible!" snorted the old man, "I have it on the best possible +authority that our air service is completely up to date now, and far +better than the German. He must be exaggerating. They would never allow +the enemy to out-distance us in so important a department. What else does +he say?" + +"Oh, nothing;" said Hilda, "or at least nothing about the war in a way. +It's full of--of his work." She stopped abruptly. + +"Well, well," said Mr. Lessing, "I was against his going at first; but +it's all shoulders to the wheel now, and it was plain he ought to see a +little life out there. A young man who doesn't won't have much of a look +in afterwards--that's how _I_ reasoned it. And he works hard, does +Graham; I've always said that for him, I expect he's of great service to +them. Eh, Hilda?" + +"I don't know," said the girl; "he doesn't say. But he's been chosen for +some special work, lecturing or something, and that's why he's at +Abbeville." + +"Ah! Good! Special work, eh? He'll go far yet, that fellow. I don't know +that I'd have chosen him for you, Hilda, at first, but this business has +shaken us all up, and I shouldn't be surprised if Graham comes to the +front over it." He stopped as the maid came in, "I think I'll have my +coffee in the study, my dear," he said to Mrs. Lessing; "I have some +reading to do." + +When the two women were once more alone Mrs. Lessing put her cup down, +and spoke. "What is it, dear?" she questioned. + +Hilda did not look at her. The two, indeed, understood each other very +well. "I can't tell you here, mother," she said. + +"Come, then, dear," said Mrs. Lessing, rising. "Let's go to my room. Your +father will be busy for some time, and we shall not be disturbed there." + +She led the way, and lit a small gas fire. "I can't be cold in my +bedroom," she said; "and though I hate these things, they are better +than nothing. Now, dear, what is it?" + +Hilda seated herself on a footstool on the other side of the fire, and +stared into it. The light shone on her fair skin and hair, and Mrs. +Lessing contemplated her with satisfaction from several points of view. +For one thing, Hilda was so sensible.... + +"What is it?" she asked again. "Your father saw nothing--men don't; but +you can't hide from me, dear, that your letter has troubled you. Is Peter +in trouble?" + +Hilda shook her head. Then she said: "Well, at least, mother, not that +sort of trouble. I told father truly; he's been picked for special +service." + +"Well, then, what is it?" Mrs. Lessing was a trifle impatient. + +"Mother," said Hilda, "I've known that he has not been happy ever since +his arrival in France, but I've never properly understood why. Peter is +queer in some ways, you know. You remember that sermon of his? He won't +be content with things; he's always worrying. And now he writes +dreadfully. He says..." She hesitated. Then, suddenly, she pulled out the +letter. "Listen, mother," she said, and read what Peter had written in +the club until the end. "'I am going to eat and drink with publicans and +sinners; maybe I shall find my Master still there.'" + +If Langton could have seen Mrs. Lessing he would have smiled that cynical +smile of his with much satisfaction. She was frankly horrified--rendered, +in fact, almost speechless. + +"Hilda!" she exclaimed. "What a thing to write to you! But what does he +mean? Has he forgotten that he is a clergyman? Why, it's positively +blasphemous! He is speaking of Christ, I suppose. My poor girl, he must +be mad. Surely you see that, dear." + +Hilda stared on into the fire, and made no reply. Her mother hardly +needed one, "Has he met another woman, Hilda?" she demanded. + +"I don't know; he doesn't say so," said Hilda miserably. "But anyhow, I +don't see that that matters." + +"Not matter, girl! Are you mad too? He is your fiancé, isn't he? Really, +I think I must speak to your father." + +Hilda turned her head slowly, and mother and daughter looked at each +other. Mrs. Lessing was a woman of the world, but she was a good mother, +and she read in her daughter's eyes what every mother has to read sooner +or later. It was as one woman to another, and not as mother to daughter, +that she continued lamely: "Well, Hilda, what do you make of it all? What +are you going to do?" + +The girl looked away again, and a silence fell between them. Then she +said, speaking in short, slow sentences: + +"I will tell you what I make of it, mother. Peter's gone beyond me, I +think, now, that I have always feared a little that he might. Of course, +he's impetuous and headstrong, but it is more than that. He feels +differently from me, from all of us. I can see that, though I don't +understand him a bit. I thought" (her voice faltered) "he loved me more. +He knows how I wanted him to get on in the Church, and how I would have +helped him. But that's nothing to him, or next to nothing. I think he +doesn't love me at all, mother, and never really did." + +Mrs. Lessing threw her head back. "Then he's a fool, my dear," she said +emphatically. "You're worth loving; you know it. I should think no more +about him, Hilda." + +Hilda's hands tightened round her knees. "I can't do that," she said. + +Mrs. Lessing was impatient again. "Do you mean, Hilda, that if he +persists in this--this madness, if he gives up the Church, for example, +you will not break off the engagement? Mind you, that is the point. Every +young man must have a bit of a fling, possibly even clergymen, I suppose, +and they get over it. A sensible girl knows that. But if he ruins his +prospects--surely, Hilda, you are not going to be a fool?" + +The word had been spoken again. Peter had had something to say on it, and +now the gods gave Hilda her chance. She stretched her fine hands out to +the fire, and a new note came into her voice. + +"A fool, mother? Oh no, I shan't be a fool. A fool would follow him to +the end of the world. A fool of a woman would give him all he wants for +the sake of giving, and be content with nothing in return. I see that. +But I'm not made for that sort of foolery.... No, I shan't be a fool." + +Mrs. Lessing could not conceal her satisfaction. "Well, I am sure I am +very glad to hear you say it, and so would your father be. We have not +brought you up carefully for nothing, Hilda. You are a woman now, and I +don't believe in trying to force a woman against her will, but I am +heartily glad, my dear, that you are so sensible. When you are as old as +I am and have a daughter of your own, you will be glad that you have +behaved so to-night." + +Hilda got up, and put her hands behind her head, which was a favourite +posture of hers. She stood looking down at her mother with a curious +expression on her face. Mrs. Lessing could make nothing of it; she merely +thought Hilda "queer"; she had travelled farther than she knew from +youth. + +"Shall I, mother?" said Hilda. "Yes, I expect I shall. I have been +carefully brought up, as you say, so carefully that even now I can only +just see what a fool might do, and I know quite well that I can't do it. +After a while I shall no more see it than you do. I shall even probably +forget that I ever did. So that is all. And because I love him, really, +I don't think I can even say 'poor Peter!' That's curious, isn't it, +mother?... Well, I think I'll go to my room for a little. I won't come in +again. Good-night." + +She bent and kissed Mrs. Lessing. Her mother held her arms a moment more. +"Then, what are you going to do?" she demanded. + +Hilda freed herself, "Write and try to persuade him not to be a fool +either, I think. Not that it's any good. And then--wait and see." She +walked to the floor, "Of course, this is just between us two, isn't it, +dear?" she said, playing with the handle. + +"Of course," said her mother. "But do be sensible, dear, and don't wait +too long. It is much better not to play with these things--much better. +And do tell me how things go, darling, won't you?" + +"Oh yes," said Hilda slowly, "Oh yes I'll tell you.... Good-night." + +She passed out and closed the door gently "I wonder why I can't cry +to-night?" she asked herself as she went to her room, and quite honestly +she did not know. + +Across the water Peter's affairs were speeding up. If Hilda could have +seen him that night she would probably have wept without difficulty, but +for a much more superficial reason than the reason why she could not weep +in London. And it came about in this way. + +On the morning after the dinner Peter was moody, and declared he would +not go down to the office, but would take a novel out to the canal. He +was in half a mind to go up and call at the hospital, but something held +him back. Reflection showed him how near he had been to the fatal kiss +the night before, and he did not wish, or, with the morning, he thought +he did not wish, to see Julie so soon again. So he got his novel and went +out to the canal, finding a place where last year's leaves still lay +thick, and one could lie at ease and read. We do these things all our +days, and never learn the lesson. + +Half-way through the morning he looked up to see Langton striding along +towards him. He was walking quickly, with the air of one who brings news, +and he delivered his message as soon as they were within earshot of each +other. "Good news, Graham," he called out. "This tomfoolery is over. +They've heard from H.Q. that the whole stunt is postponed, and we've all +to go back to our bases. Isn't it like 'em?" he demanded, as he came up. +"Old Jackson in the office is swearing like blazes. He's had all his maps +made and plans drawn up, etcetera and etcetera, and now they're so much +waste-paper. Jolly fortunate, any road." He sat down and got out a pipe. + +Peter shut his book. "I'm glad," he said. "I'm sick of foolin' round +here. Not but what it isn't a decent enough place, but I prefer the +other. There's more doing. When do we go?" + +"To-morrow. They're getting our movement orders, yours to Havre, mine to +Rouen. I put in a spoke for you, to get one via Rouen, but I don't know +if you will. It's a vile journey otherwise." + +"By Jove!" cried Peter. "I've an idea! Miss Gamelyn's troop of +motor-buses goes back to Havre to-morrow empty. Why shouldn't I travel +on them? Think I could work it?" + +Langton puffed solemnly. "Sure, I should think," he said, "being a padre, +anyway." + +"What had I best do?" + +"Oh, I should go and see Jackson and get him to 'phone the hospital for +you--that is, if you really want to go that way." + +"It's far better than that vile train," said Peter. "Besides, one can see +the country, which I love. And I've never been in Dieppe, and they're to +go through there and pick up some casualties." + +"Just so," said Langton, still smoking. + +"Well," said Peter, "reckon I'll go and see about it. Jackson's a decent +old stick, but I'd best do it before he tackles the R.T.O. Coming?" + +"No," said Langton. "Leave that novel, and come back for me. You won't be +long." + +"Right-o," said Peter, and set off. + +It was easily done. Jackson had no objections, and rang up the hospital +while Peter waited. Oh yes, certainly they could do it. What was the +name? Captain. Graham, C.F. certainly. He must be at the hospital +early--eight-thirty the next morning. That all right? Thank you. + +"Thank you," said Peter. "Motoring's a long sight better than the train +these days, and I'll get in quicker, too, as a matter of fact, or at any +rate just as quickly." He turned to go, but a thought struck him. "Have +you an orderly to spare?" he asked. + +"Any quantity," said the other bitterly. "They've been detailed for +weeks, and done nothing. You can have one with pleasure. It'll give the +perisher something to do." + +"Thanks," said Peter; "I want to send a note, that's all. May I write it +here?" + +He was given pen and paper, and scribbled a little note to Julie. He did +not know who else might be on the lorry, or if she would want to appear +to know him. The orderly was called and despatched and he left the place +for the last time. + +Langton and he walked out to St. Riquier in the afternoon, had tea there, +and got back to dinner. A note was waiting for Peter, a characteristic +one. + +"DEAREST SOLOMON (it ran), + +"You are really waking up! There will be three of us nurses in one lorry, +and they're sure to start you off in another. We lunch at Eu, and I'll be +delighted to see you. Then you can go on in our car. Dieppe's on the +knees of the gods, as you say, but probably we can pull off something. + +"JULIE." + +He smiled and put it in his pocket. Langton said nothing till the coffee +and liqueurs came in. Then he lit a cigarette and held the match out to +Peter. "Wonder if we shall meet again?" he said. + +"Oh, I expect so," said Peter. "Write, anyway, won't you? I'll likely get +a chance to come to Rouen." + +"And I likely won't be there. I'm putting in again for another job. +They're short of men now, and want equipment officers for the R.A.F. It's +a stunt for which engineering's useful, and I may get in. I don't suppose +I'll see much of the fun, but it's better than bossing up a labour +company, any road." + +"Sportsman," said Peter. "I envy you. Why didn't you tell me? I've half a +mind to put in too. Do you think I'd have a chance?" + +"No," said Langton brutally. "Besides, it's not your line. You know what +yours is; stick to it." + +"And you know that I'm not so sure that I can," said Peter. + +"Rot!" said the other. "You can if you like. You won't gain by running +away. Only I give you this bit of advice, old son: go slow. You're so +damned hot-headed! You can't remake the world to order in five minutes; +and if you could, I bet it wouldn't be a much better old world. We've +worried along for some time moderately well. Don't be too ready to turn +down the things that have worked with some success, at any rate, for the +things that have never been tried." + +Peter smoked in silence. Then he said: "Langton you're a bit different +from what you were. In a way, it's you who have set me out on this +racket, and it's you who encouraged me to try and get down to +rock-bottom. You've always been a cautious old rotter, but you're more +than cautious now. Why?" + +Langton leaned over and touched the other's tunic pocket in which lay +Julie's note. Then he leaned back and went on with his cigarette. + +Peter flushed. "It's too late," he said judicially, flicking off his ash. + +"So? Well, I'm sorry, frankly--sorry for her and sorry for you. But if it +is, I'll remember my own wisdom: it's no use meddling with such things. +For all that, you're a fool, Peter, as I told you last night." + +"Just so. And I asked what was a fool." + +"And I didn't answer. I reckon fools can be of many sorts. Your sort of +fool chucks the world over for the quest of an ideal." + +"Thank you," said Peter quietly. + +"You needn't. That fool is a real fool, and bigger than most. Ideals are +ideals, and one can't realise them. It's waste of time to try." + +"Is it?" said Peter. "Well, at any rate, I don't know that I'm out after +them much. I don't see any. All I know is that I've looked in the likely +places, and now I'll look in the unlikely." + +Langton ground his cigarette-end in his coffee-cup. "You will," he said, +"whatever I say.... Have another drink? After all, there's no need to +'turn down the empty glass' yet." + +They did not see each other in the morning, and Peter made his way early +to the hospital as arranged. The P.M.O. met him, and he was put in +nominal charge of the three Red-Cross ambulance-cars. While he was +talking to the doctor the three nurses came out and got in, Julie not +looking in his direction; then he climbed up next the driver of the +first car. "Cheerio," said the P.M.O., and they were off. + +It was a dull day, and mists hung over the water-meadows by the Somme. +For all that Peter enjoyed himself immensely. They ran swiftly through +the little villages, under the sweeping trees all new-budded into green, +and soon had vistas of the distant sea. The driver of Peter's car was an +observant fellow, and he knew something of gardening. It was he who +pointed out that the fruit-trees had been indifferently pruned or not +pruned at all, and that there were fields no longer under the plough that +had been plainly so not long before. In a word, the country bore its war +scars, although it needed a clever eye to see them. + +But Peter had little thought for this. Now and again, at a corner, he +would glance back, his mind on Julie in the following car, while every +church tower gave him pause for thought. He tried to draw the man beside +him on religion, but without any success, though he talked freely enough +of other things. He was for the Colonies after the war, he said. He'd +knocked about a good deal in France, and the taste for travel had come to +him. Canada appeared a land of promise; one could get a farm easily, and +his motor knowledge would be useful on a farm these days. Yes, he had a +pal out there, a Canadian who had done his bit and been invalided out of +it. They corresponded, and he expected to get in with him, the one's +local knowledge eking out the other's technical. No, he wasn't for +marrying yet awhile; he'd wait till he'd got a place for the wife and +kiddies. Then he would. The thought made him expand a bit, and Peter +smiled to himself as he thought of his conversation with Langton over the +family group. It struck him to test the man, and as they passed a wayside +Calvary, rudely painted, he drew his attention to it. "What do you think +of that?" he asked. + +The man glanced at it, and then away. "It's all right for them as like +it," he said. "Religion's best in a church, it seems to me. I've seen +chaps mock at them crucifixes, sir, same as they wouldn't if they'd only +been in church." + +"Yes," said Peter; "but I suppose some men have been helped by them who +never would have been if they had only been in church. But don't you +think they're rather gaudy?" + +"Gaudy, sir? Meanin' 'ighly painted? No, not as I knows on. They're more +like what happened, I reckon, than them brass crosses we have in our +churches." + +They ran into Eu for lunch, and drew up in the market-square. Peter +went round to the girls' car, greeted Julie, and was introduced. He +led them to an old inn in the square, and they sat down to luncheon +in very good humour. The other girls were ordinary enough, and Julie +rather subdued for her. Afterwards they spent an hour in the church and +a picture-postcard shop, and it was there that Julie whispered: "Go on +in your own car. At Dieppe, go to the Hôtel Trois Poissons and wait for +me. I found out yesterday that a woman I know is a doctor in Dieppe, and +she lives there. I'll get leave easily to call. Then I can see you. If +we travel together these girls'll talk; they're just the sort." + +Peter nodded understanding, and they drifted apart. He went out to see if +the cars were ready and returned to call the nurses, and in a few minutes +they were off again. + +The road now ran through forests nearly all the way, except where +villages had cleared a space around them, as was plain to see. They +crossed little streams, and finally came downhill through the forest into +the river valley that leads to Dieppe. It was still early, and Peter +stopped the cars to suggest that they might have a look at the castle of +Arques-le-Bataille. The grand old pile kept them nearly an hour, and they +wandered about the ruins to their hearts' content. Julie would climb a +buttress of the ancient keep when their guide had gone on with the +others, and Peter went up after her. She was as lissom as a boy and +seemingly as strong, swinging up by roots of ivy and the branches of a +near tree, in no wise impeded by her short skirts. From the top one had, +indeed, a glorious view. The weather had cleared somewhat, and one could +see every bit of the old castle below, the village at its feet, and the +forest across the little stream out of which the Duke of Mayenne's +infantry had debouched that day of battle from which the village took +its name. + +"They had some of the first guns in the castle, which was held for Henry +of Navarre," explained Peter, "and they did great execution. I suppose +they fired one stone shot in about every five minutes, and killed a man +about every half-hour. The enemy were more frightened than hurt, I should +think. Anyway, Henry won." + +"Wasn't he the King who thought Paris worth more than a Mass?" she +demanded. + +"Yes," said Peter, watching her brown eyes as she stared out over the +plain. + +"I wonder what he thinks now," she said. + +He laughed. "You're likely to wonder," he said. + +"Funny old days," said Julie. "I suppose there were girls in this castle +watching the fight. I expect they cared more for the one man each +half-hour the cannon hit than for either Paris or the Mass. That's the +way of women, Peter, and a damned silly way it is! Come on, let's go. +I'll get down first, if you please." + +On the short road remaining Peter asked his chauffeur if he knew the +Trois Poissons, and, finding that he did, had the direction pointed out. +They ran through the town to the hospital, and Peter handed his cars +over. "I'll sleep in town," he said. "What time ought we to start in the +morning?" He was told, and walked away. Julie had disappeared. + +He found the Trois Poissons without difficulty, and made his way to the +sitting-room, a queer room opening from the pavement direct on the one +side, and from the hall of the hotel on the other. It had a table down +the middle, a weird selection of chairs, and a piano. A small woman was +sitting in a chair reading the _Tatler_ and smoking. An empty glass +stood beside her. + +She looked up as he came in, and he noticed R.A.M.C. badges. +"Good-evening," he said cheerily. + +"Good-evening, padre," she replied, plainly willing to talk. "Where have +you sprung from?" + +"Abbeville via Eu in a convoy of Red Cross cars," he said, "and I feel +like a sun-downer. Won't you have another with me?" + +"Sure thing," she said, and he ordered a couple from the French maid who +came in answer to his ring. "Do you live here?" he asked. + +"For my sins I do," she said. "I doctor Waac's, and I don't think much of +it. A finer, heartier lot of women I never saw. Epsom salts is all they +want. A child could do it." + +Peter laughed. "Well, I don't see why you should grumble," he said. + +"Don't you? Where's the practice? This business out here is the best +chance for doctors in a lifetime, and I have to strip strapping girls +hopelessly and endlessly." + +"You do, do you?" said a voice in the doorway, and there stood Julie. +"Well, at any rate you oughtn't to talk about it like that to my +gentleman friends, especially padres. How do you do, my dear?" + +"Julie, by all that's holy! Where have you sprung from?" + +She glanced from one to the other. "From Abbeville via Eu in a convoy of +Red Cross cars, I dare bet," she said. + +"Julie, you're beyond me. If you weren't so strong I'd smack you, but as +it is, give me another kiss. _And_ introduce us. There may as well be +propriety somewhere." + +They sorted themselves out and sat down. "What do you think of my rig?" +demanded Dr. Melville (as Julie had introduced her). + +"Toppin'," said Julie critically. "But what in the world is it? Chiefly +Waac, with three pukka stars and an R.A.M.C. badge. Teanie, how dare you +do it?" + +"I dare do all that doth become a woman," she answered complacently. "And +it doth, doth it not? Skirt's a trifle short, perhaps," she added, +sticking out a leg and examining the effect critically, "but upper's +eminently satisfactory." + +Julie leaned over and prodded her. "No corsets?" she inquired innocently. + +"Julie, you're positively indecent. You must have tamed your padre +completely. You're not married by any chance?" she added suddenly. + +Julie screamed with laughter. "Oh, Teanie, you'll be the death of me," +she said at last. "Solomon, are we married? I don't think so, Teanie. +There's never no telling these days, but I can't recollect it." + +"Well, it strikes me you ought to be if you're jogging round the country +together," said the other, her eyes twinkling. "But if you're not, take +warning, padre. A girl that talks about corsets in public isn't +respectable, especially as she doesn't wear them herself, except in the +evening, for the sake of other things. Or she used not to. But perhaps +you know?" + +Peter tried to look comfortable, but he was completely out of his depth. +He finished his drink with a happy inspiration, and ordered another. That +down, he began to feel more capable of entering into the spirit of these +two. They were the sort he wanted to know, both of them, women about as +different from those he had met as they could possibly be. + +Another man dropped in after a while, so the talk became general. The +atmosphere was very free and easy, bantering, careless, jolly, and Peter +expanded in it. Julie led them all. She was never at a loss, and +apparently had no care in the world. + +The two girls and Peter went together to dinner and sat at the same +table. They talked a good deal together, and Peter gathered they had come +to know each other at a hospital in England. They were full of +reminiscences. + +"Do you remember ducking Pockett?" Teanie asked Julie. + +"Lor', I should think I do! Tell Peter. He won't be horrified unless you +go into details. If I cough, Solomon, you're to change the subject. Carry +on, Teanie." + +"Well, Pockett was a nurse of about the last limit. She was fearfully +snobby, which nobody of that name ought to be, and she ruled her pros. +with a rod of iron. I expect that was good for them, and I say nothing +as to that, but she was a beast to the boys. We had some poor chaps in +who were damnably knocked about, and one could do a lot for them in +roundabout ways. Regulations are made to be broken in some cases, I +think. But she was a holy terror. Sooner than call her, the boys would +endure anything, but some of us knew, and once she caught Julie here..." + +"It wasn't--it was you, Teanie." + +"Oh, well, one of us, anyway, in her ward when she was on night duty, +sitting with a poor chap who pegged out a few days after. It soothed him +to sit and hold her hand. Well, anyway, she was furious and reported it. +There was a bit of a row--had to be, I suppose, as it was against +regulations--but thank God the P.M.O. knew his job, so there was only a +strafe with the tongue in the cheek. However, we swore revenge, and we +had it--eh, Julie?" + +"We did. Go on. It was you who thought of it." + +"Well, we filled a bath with tepid water and then went to her room one +night. She was asleep, and never heard us. We had a towel round her head +in two twinks, and carried her by the legs and arms to the bathroom. +Julie had her legs, and held 'em well up, so that down went her head +under water. She couldn't yell then. When we let her up, I douched her +with cold water, and then we bolted. We saw to it that there wasn't a +towel in the bathroom, and we locked her bedroom door. Oh, lor', poor +soul, but it was funny! She met an orderly in the corridor, and he nearly +had a fit, and I don't wonder, for her wet nightie clung to her figure +like a skin. She had to try half a dozen rooms before she got anyone to +help her, and then, when she got back, we'd ragged her room to blazes. +She never said a word, and left soon after. Ever hear of her again, +Julie?" + +"No," said she, looking more innocent than ever, Peter thought; "but I +expect she's made good somewhere. She must have had something in her or +she'd have kicked up a row." + +Miss Melville was laughing silently. "You innocent babe unborn," she +said; "never shall I forget how you held...." + +"Come on, Captain Graham," said Julie, getting up; "you've got to see me +home, and I want a nice walk by the sea-front." + +They went out together, and stood at the hotel door in the little street. +There was a bit of a moon, with clouds scurrying by, and when it shone +the road was damp and glistening in the moonlight. "What a heavenly +night!" said Julie. "Come on with us along the sea-front, Teanie--do!" + +Miss Melville smiled up at them. "I reckon you'd prefer to be alone," she +said. + +Peter glanced at Julie, and then protested. "No," he said; "do come on," +and Julie rewarded him with a smile. + +So they set out together. On the front the wind was higher, lashing the +waves, and the moonlight shone fitfully on the distant cliffs, the +harbour mouth, and the sea. The two girls clung together, and as Peter +walked by Julie she took his arm. Conversation was difficult as they +battled their way along the promenade. There was hardly a soul about, and +Peter felt the night to fit his mood. + +They went up once and down again, and at the Casino grounds Teanie +stopped them. "'Nough," she said; "I'm for home and bed. You two dears +can finish up without me." + +"Oh, we must see you home," said Peter. + +The doctor laughed. "Think I shall get stolen?" she demanded. "Someone +would have to get up pretty early for that. No, padre, I'm past the need +of being escorted, thanks. Good-night. Be good, Julie. We'll meet again +sometime, I hope. If not, keep smiling. Cheerio." + +She waved her hand and was gone in the night. "If there was ever a +plucky, unselfish, rattling good woman, there she goes," said Julie. +"I've known her sit up night after night with wounded men when she was +working like a horse all day. I've known her to help a drunken Tommy +into a cab and get him home, and quiet his wife into the bargain. I saw +her once walk off out of the Monico with a boy of a subaltern, who didn't +know what he was doing, and take him to her own flat, and put him to bed, +and get him on to the leave-train in time in the morning. She'd give away +her last penny, and you wouldn't know she'd done it. And yet she's not +the sort of woman you'd choose to run a mother's meeting, would you, +Solomon?" + +"Sure thing I wouldn't," said Peter, "not in my old parish, but I'm not +so sure I wouldn't in my new one." + +"What's your new one?" asked Julie curiously. + +"Oh, it hasn't a name," said Peter, "but it's pretty big. Something after +the style of John Wesley's parish, I reckon. And I'm gradually getting it +sized up." + +"Where do I come in, Solomon?" demanded Julie. + +They were passing by the big Calvary at the harbour gates, and there was +a light there. He stopped and turned so that the light fell on her. She +looked up at him, and so they stood a minute. He could hear the lash of +the waves, and the wind drumming in the rigging of the flagstaff near +them. Then, deliberately, he bent down, and kissed her on the lips. "I +don't know, Julie," he said, "but I believe you have the biggest part, +somehow." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +All that it is necessary to know of Hilda's return letter to Peter ran as +follows: + +"My Dear Boy, + +"Your letter from Abbeville reached me the day before yesterday, and I +have thought about nothing else since. It is plain to me that it is no +use arguing with you and no good reproaching you, for once you get an +idea into your head nothing but bitter experience will drive it out. But, +Peter, you must see that so far as I am concerned you are asking me to +choose between you and your strange ideas and all that is familiar and +dear in my life. You can't honestly expect me to believe that my Church +and my parents and my teachers are all wrong, and that, to put it mildly, +the very strange people you appear to be meeting in France are all right. +My dear Peter, do try and look at it sensibly. The story you told me of +the death of Lieutenant Jenks was terrible--terrible; it brings the war +home in all its ghastly reality; but really, you know, it was his fault +and not yours, and still less the fault of the Church of England, that he +did not want you when he came to die. If a man lives without God, he can +hardly expect to find Him at the point of sudden death. What you say +about Christ, too, utterly bewilders me. Surely our Church's teachings in +the Catechism and the Prayer-Book is Christian teaching, isn't it? +Nothing is perfect on earth, and the Church is human, but our Church +is certainly the best I know of. It is liberal, active, moderate, and--I +don't like the word, but after all it is a good one--respectable. I don't +know much about these things, but surely you of all people don't want to +go shouting in the street like a Salvation Army Captain. I can't see that +that is more 'in touch with reality.' Peter, what do you mean? Are not +St. John's, and the Canon, and my people, and myself, real? Surely, +Peter, our love is real, isn't it? Oh, how can you doubt that? + +"Darling boy, don't you think you are over-strained and over-worried? You +are in a strange country, among strange people, at a very peculiar time. +War always upsets everything and makes things abnormal. London, even, +isn't normal, but, as the Canon said the other day, a great many of the +things people do just now are due to reaction against strain and anxiety. +Can't you see this? Isn't there any clergyman you can go and talk to? +Your Presbyterian and other new friends and your visits to Roman Catholic +churches can't be any real help. + +"Peter, dear, for my sake, do, _do_ try to see things like this. I _hate_ +that bit in your letter about publicans and sinners. How can a clergyman +expect _them_ to help _him_? Surely you ought to avoid such people, not +seek their company. It is so like you to get hold of a text or two and +run it to death. It's not that I don't _trust_ you, but you are so easily +influenced, and you may equally easily go and do something that will +separate us and ruin your life. Peter, I hate to write like this, but I +can't help it...." + +Peter let the sheets fall from his hands and stared out of the little +window. The gulls were screaming and fighting over some refuse in the +harbour, and he watched the beat of their wings, fascinated. If only he, +too, could catch the wind and be up and away like that! + +He jumped up and paced up and down the floor restlessly, and he told +himself that Hilda was right and he was a cad and worse. Julie's kiss on +his lips burned there yet. That at any rate was wrong; by any standards +he had no right to behave so. How could he kiss her when he was pledged +to Hilda--Hilda to whom everyone had looked up, the capable, lady-like, +irreproachable Hilda, the Hilda to whom Park Lane and St. John's were +such admirable setting. And who was he, after all, to set aside all that +for which both those things stood? + +And yet.... He sat down by the little table and groaned. + +"What the dickens is the matter with you, padre?" + +Peter started and looked round. In the doorway stood Pennell, regarding +him with amusement. "Here am I trying to read, and you pacing up and down +like a wild beast. What the devil's up?" + +"The devil himself, that's what's up," said Peter savagely. "Look here, +Pen, come on down town and let's have a spree. I hate this place and this +infernal camp. It gets on my nerves. I must have a change. Will you come? +It's my do." + +"I'm with you, old thing. I know what you feel like; I get like that +myself sometimes. It's a pleasure to see that you're so human. We'll go +down town and razzle-dazzle for once. I'm off duty till to-night. I ought +to sleep, I suppose, but I can't, so come away with you. I won't be a +second." + +He disappeared. Peter stood for a moment, then slipped his tunic off and +put on another less distinctive of his office. He crossed to the desk, +unlocked it, and reached for a roll of notes, shoving them into his +pocket. Then he put on his cap, took a stick from the corner, and went +out into the passage. But there he remembered, and came quickly back. +He folded Hilda's letter and put it away in a drawer; then he went out +again. "Are you ready, Pennell?" he called. + +The two of them left camp and set out across the docks. As they crossed a +bridge a one-horse cab came into the road from a side-street and turned +in their direction. "Come on," said Peter. "Anything is better than this +infernal walk over this _pavé_ always. Let's hop in." + +They stopped the man, who asked where to drive to. + +"Let's go to the Bretagne first and get a drink," said Pennell. + +"Right," said Peter--"any old thing. Hôtel de la Bretagne," he called to +the driver. + +They set off at some sort of a pace, and Pennell leaned back with a +laugh. "It's a funny old world, Graham," he said. "One does get fed-up at +times. Why sitting in a funeral show like this cab and having a drink in +a second-rate pub should be any amusement, I don't know. But it is. +You're infectious, my boy. I begin to feel like a rag myself. What shall +we do?" + +"The great thing," said Peter judiciously, "is not to know what one is +going to do, but just to take anything that comes along. I remember at +the 'Varsity one never set out to rag anything definitely. You went out +and you saw a bobby and you took his hat, let us say. You cleared, and he +after you. Anything might happen then." + +"I should think so," said Pennell. + +"I remember once walking home with a couple of men, and one of them +suggested dousing all the street lamps in the road, which was a +residential one leading into town. There wasn't anything in it, but we +did it. One man put his back against a post, while the second went on to +the next post. Then the third man mounted the first man's back, shoved +out the light, jumped clear, and ran on past the next lamp-post to the +third. The first man jumped on No. 2's back and doused his lamp, and so +on. We did the street in a few minutes, and then a constable came into it +at the top. He probably thought he was drunk, then he spotted lights +going out, and like an ass he blew his whistle. We were round a corner in +no time, and then turned and ran back to see if we could offer +assistance!" + +"Some gag!" chuckled Pennell; "but I hope you won't go on that sort +of racket to-night. It would be a little more serious if we were +caught.... Also, these blighted gendarmes would probably start firing, +or some other damned thing." + +"They would," said Peter; "besides, that doesn't appeal to me now. I'm +getting too old, or else my tastes have become depraved." + +The one-horse cab stopped with a jerk. "Hop out," said Peter. He settled +the score, and the two of them entered the hotel and passed through into +the private bar. + +"What is it to be?" demanded Pennell. + +"Cocktails to-day, old son," said Peter; "I want bucking up. What do you +say to martinis?" + +The other agreed, and they moved over to the bar. A monstrously fat woman +stood behind it, like some bloated spider, and a thin, weedy-looking girl +assisted her. A couple of men were already there. It was too early for +official drinks, but the Bretagne knew no law. + +They ordered their drinks, and stood there while madame compounded them +and put in the cherries. Another man came in, and Peter recognised the +Australian Ferrars, whom he had met before. He introduced Pennell and +called for another martini. + +"So you frequent this poison-shop, do you?" said Ferrars. + +"Not much," laughed Peter, "but it's convenient." + +"It is, and it's a good sign when a man like you wants a drink. I'd +sooner listen to your sermons any day than some chaps' I know." + +"Subject barred here," said Pennell. "But here's the very best to you, +Graham, for all that." + +"Same here," said Ferrars, and put down his empty glass. + +The talk became general. There was nothing whatever in it--mild chaffing, +a yarn or two, a guarded description by Peter of his motor drive from +Abbeville, and then more drinks. And so on. The atmosphere was warm and +genial, but Peter wondered inwardly why he liked it, and he did not like +it so much that Pennell's "Well, what about it? Let's go on, Graham, +shall we?" found him unready. The two said a general good-bye, promised +madame to look in again, and sauntered out. + +They crossed the square in front of Travalini's, lingered at the +flower-stalls, refused the girls' pressure to buy, and strolled on. +"I'm sick of Travalini's," said Pennell. "Don't let's go in there." + +"So am I," said Peter. "Let's stroll down towards the sea." + +They turned down a side-street, and stood for a few minutes looking into +a picture and book shop. At that moment quick footsteps sounded on the +pavement, and Pennell glanced round. + +Two girls passed them, obviously sisters. They were not flashily dressed +exactly, but there was something in their furs and their high-heeled, +high-laced boots that told its own story. "By Jove, that's a pretty +girl!" exclaimed Pennell; "let's follow them." + +Peter laughed; he was reckless, but not utterly so. "If you like," he +said. "I'm on for any rag. We'll take them for a drink, but I stop at +that, mind, Pen." + +"Sure thing," said Pennell. "But come on; we'll miss them." + +They set out after the girls, who, after one glance back, walked on as if +they did not know they were being followed. But they walked slowly, and +it was easy for the two men to catch them up. + +Peter slackened a few paces behind. "Look here, Pen," he said, "what the +deuce are we going to do? They'll expect more than a drink, you know." + +"Oh no, they won't, not so early as this. It's all in the way of business +to them, too. Let's pass them first," he suggested, "and then slacken +down and wait for them to speak." + +Peter acquiesced, feeling rather more than an ass, but the drinks had +gone slightly to his head. They executed their share of the maneuver, +Pennell looking at the girls and smiling as he did so. But the two +quickened their pace and passed the officers without a word. + +"If you ask me, this is damned silly," said Peter. "Let's chuck it." + +"No, no; wait a bit," said Pennell excitedly. "You'll see what they'll +do. It's really an amusing study in human nature. Look! I told you so. +They live there." + +The girls had crossed the street, and were entering a house. One of them +unlocked the door, and they both disappeared. "There," said Peter, "that +finishes it. We've lost them." + +"Have we?" said his companion. "Come on over." + +They crossed the street and walked up to the door. It was open and +perhaps a foot ajar. Pennell pushed it wide and walked in. "Come on," he +said again. Peter followed reluctantly, but curious. He was seeing a new +side of life, he thought grimly. + +Before them a flight of stairs led straight up to a landing, but there +was no sign of the girls. "What's next?" demanded Peter. "We'll be fired +out in two twos if nothing worse happens. Suppose they're decent girls +after all; what would you say?" + +"I'd ask if Mlle. Lucienne lived here," said Pennell, "and apologise +profusely when I found she didn't. But you can't make a mistake in this +street, Graham. I'm going up. It's the obvious thing, and probably what +they wanted. Coming?" + +He set off to mount the stairs, and Peter, reassured, followed him, at a +few paces. When he reached the top, Pennell was already entering an open +door. + +"How do you do, ma chérie?" said one of the girls, smiling, and holding +out a hand. + +Peter looked round curiously. The room was fairly decently furnished in a +foreign middle-class fashion, half bedroom, half sitting-room. One of the +girls sat on the arm of a big chair, the other was greeting his friend. +She was the one he had fancied, but a quick glance attracted Peter +to the other and elder. He was in for it now, and he was determined to +play up. He crossed the floor, and smiled down at the girl on the arm of +the chair. + +"So you 'ave come," she said in broken English. "I told Lucienne that you +would not." + +"Lucienne!" exclaimed Peter, and looked back at Pennell. + +That traitor laughed, and seated himself on the edge of the bed, drawing +the other girl to him. "I'm awfully sorry, Graham," he said; "but I +couldn't help it. You wanted to see life, and you'd have shied off if I +hadn't played a game. I do just know this little girl, and jolly nice she +is too. Give me a kiss, Lulu." + +The girl obeyed, her eyes sparkling. "It's not proper before monsieur," +she said. "'E is--how do you say?--shocked?" + +She seated herself on Pennell's knee, and, putting an arm round his neck, +kissed him again, looking across at Peter mischievously. "We show 'im +French kiss," she added to Pennell, and pouted out her lips to his. + +"Well, now you 'ave come, what do you want?" demanded the girl on the arm +of Peter's chair. "Sit down," she said imperiously, patting the seat, +"and talk to me." + +Peter laughed more lightly than he felt. "Well, I want a drink," he said, +at random. "Pen," he called across the room, "what about that drink?" The +girl by him reached over and touched a bell. As she did so, Peter saw the +curls that clustered on her neck and caught the perfume of her hair. It +was penetrating and peculiar, but not distasteful, and it did all that it +was meant to do. He bent, and kissed the back of her neck, still +marvelling at himself. + +She straightened herself, smiling. "That is better. You aren't so cold as +you pretended, chérie. Now kiss me properly," and she held up her face. + +Peter kissed her lips. Before he knew it, a pair of arms were thrown +about his neck, and he was being half-suffocated with kisses. He tore +himself away, disgusted and ashamed. + +"No!" he cried sharply, but knowing that it was too late. + +The girl threw herself back, laughing merrily, "Oh, you are funny!" she +said. "Lucienne, take your boy away; I want to talk to mine." + +Before he could think of a remonstrance, it was done. Pennell and the +other girl got up from the bed where they had been whispering together, +and left the room. "Pennell!" called Peter, too late again, jumping up. +The girl ran round him, pushed the door to, locked it, and dropped the +key down the neck of her dress. "Voila!" she said gaily. + +There came a knock on the door. "Non, non!" she cried in French. "Take +the wine to Mlle. Lucienne; I am busy." + +Peter walked across the room to her. "Give me the key," he said, holding +out his hand, and changing his tactics. "Please do. I won't go till my +friend comes back. I promise." + +The girl looked at him. "You promise? But you will 'ave to find it." + +He smiled and nodded, and she walked deliberately to the bed, undid the +front of her costume, and slipped it off. Bare necked and armed, she +turned to him, holding open the front of her chemise. "Down there," she +said. + +It was a strange moment and a strange thing, but a curious courage came +back to Peter in that second. Without hesitation, he put his hand down +and sought for the key against her warm body. He found it, and help it +up, smiling. Then he moved to the door, pushed the key in the keyhole, +and turned again to the girl. "There!" he said simply. + +With a gesture of abandon, she threw herself on the bed, propping her +cheek on her hand and staring at him. He sat down where Pennell had sat, +but made no attempt to touch her, leaning, instead, back and away against +the iron bed-post. She pulled up her knees, flung her arms back, and +laughed. "And now, monsieur?" she said. + +Peter had never felt so cool in his life. His thoughts raced, but +steadily, as if he had dived into cold, clear water. He smiled again, +unhesitatingly, but sadly. "Dear," he said deliberately, "listen to me. I +have cheated you by coming here to-day, though you shan't suffer for it. +I did not want anything, and I don't now. But I'm glad I've come, even +though you do not understand. I don't want to do a bit what my friend is +doing. I don't know why, but I don't. I'm engaged to a girl in England, +but it's not because of that. I'm a chaplain too--a curé, you know--in +the English Army; but it's not because of that." + +"Protestant?" demanded the girl on the bed. + +He nodded. "Ah, well," she said, "the Protestant ministers have wives. +They are men; it is different with priests. If your fiancée is wise, she +wouldn't mind if you love me a little. She is in England; I am here--is +it not so? You love me now; again, perhaps, once or twice. Then it is +finished. You do not tell your fiancée and she does not know. It is +no matter. Come on, chérie!" + +She held out her hands and threw her head back on the pillow. + +Peter smiled again. "You do not understand," he said. "And nor do I, but +I must be different from some men. I do not want to." + +"Ah, well," she exclaimed brightly, sitting up, "another time! Give me my +dress, monsieur le curé." + +He got up and handed it to her. "Tell me," he said, "do you like this +sort of life?" + +She shrugged her white shoulders indifferently. "Sometimes," she +said--"sometimes not. There are good boys and bad boys. Some are rough, +cruel, mean; some are kind, and remember that it costs much to live +these days, and one must dress nicely. See," she said deliberately, +showing him, "it is lace, fine lace; I pay fifty francs in Paris!" + +"I will give you that," said Peter, and he placed the note on the bed. + +She stared at it and at him. "Oh, I love you!" she cried. "You are kind! +Ah, now, if I could but love you always!" + +"Always?" he demanded. + +"Yes, always, always, while you are here, in Le Havre. I would have no +other boy but you. Ah, if you would! You do not know how one tires of the +music-hall, the drinks, the smiles! I would do just all you please--be +gay, be solemn, talk, be silent, just as you please! Oh, if you would!" + +Half in and half out of her dress, she stood there, pleading. Peter +looked closely at the little face with its rouge and powder. + +"You hate that!" she exclaimed, with quick intuition. "See, it is gone. I +use it no more, only a leetle, leetle, for the night." And she ran across +to the basin, dipped a little sponge in water, passed it over her face, +and turned to him triumphantly. + +Peter sighed. "Little girl," he said sadly, hardly knowing that he spoke. +"I cannot save myself: how can I save you?" + +"Pouf!" she cried. "Save! What do you mean?" She drew herself up with an +absurd gesture. "You think me a bad girl? No, I am not bad; I go to +church. Le bon Dieu made us as we are; it is nécessaire." + +They stood before each other, a strange pair, the product of a strange +age. God knows what the angels made of it. But at any rate Peter was +honest. He thought of Julie, and he would not cast a stone. + +There came a light knock at the door. The girl disregarded it, and ran to +him. "You will come again?" she said in low tones. "Promise me that you +will! I will not ask you for anything; you can do as you please; but come +again! Do come again!" + +Peter passed his hand over her hair. "I will come if I can," he said; +"but the Lord knows why." + +The knock came again, a little louder. The girl smiled and held her face +up. "Kiss me," she demanded. + +He complied, and she darted away, fumbling with her dress. "I come," she +called, and opened the door. Lucienne and Pennell came in, and the two +men exchanged glances. Then Pennell looked away. Lucienne glanced at them +and shrugged her shoulders. "Come, Graham," said Pennell; "let's get out! +Good-bye, you two." + +The pair of them went down and out in silence. No one had seen them come, +and there was no one to see them go. Peter glanced at the number and made +a mental note of it, and they set off down the street. + +Presently Pennell laughed, "I played you a dirty trick, Graham," he said, +"I'm sorry." + +"You needn't be," said Peter; "I'm very glad I went." + +"Why?" said Pennell curiously, glancing sideways at him. "You _are_ a +queer fellow, Graham." But there was a note of relief in his tone. + +Peter said nothing, but walked on. "Where next?" demanded Pennell. + +"It looks as if you are directing this outfit," said Peter; "I'm in your +hands." + +"All right," said Pennell; "I know." + +They took a street running parallel to the docks, and entered an American +bar. Peter glanced round curiously. "I've never been here before," he +said. + +"Probably not," said Pennell. "It's not much at this time of the year, +but jolly cool in the summer. And you can get first-class cocktails. I +want something now; what's yours?" + +"I'll leave it to you," said Peter. + +He sat down at a little table rather in the corner and lit a cigarette. +The place was well lighted, and by means of mirrors, coloured-glass +ornaments, paper decorations, and a few palms, it looked in its own way +smart. Two or three officers were drinking at the bar, sitting on high +stools, and Pennell went up to give his order. He brought two glasses +to Peter's table and sat down. "What fools we are, padre!" he said. "I +sometimes think that the man who gets simply and definitely tight when he +feels he wants a breather is wiser than most of us. We drink till we're +excited, and then we drink to get over it. And I suppose the devil sits +and grins. Well, it's a weary world, and there isn't any good road out of +it. I sometimes wish I'd stopped a bullet earlier on in the day. And yet +I don't know. We do get some excitement. Let's go to a music-hall +to-night." + +"What about dinner?" + +"Oh, get a quiet one in a decent hotel. I'll have to clear out at +half-time if you don't mind." + +"Not a bit," said Peter. "Half will be enough for me, I think. But let's +have dinner before we've had more of these things." + +The bar was filling up. A few girls came and went. Pennell nodded to a +man or two, and finished his glass. And they went off to dinner. + +The music-hall was not much of a show, but it glittered, and people +obviously enjoyed it. Peter watched the audience as much as the stage. +Quite respectable French families were there, and there was nothing done +that might not have been done on an English stage--perhaps less, but the +words were different. The women as well as the men screamed with +laughter, flushed of face, but an old fellow, with his wife and daughter, +obviously from the country, sat as stiffly as an English farmer through +it all. The daughter glanced once at the two officers, but then looked +away; she was well brought up. A half-caste Algerian, probably, came +on and danced really extraordinarily well, and a negro from the States, +equally ready in French and English, sang songs which the audience +demanded. He was entirely master, however, and, conscious of his power, +used it. No one in the place seemed to have heard of the colour-bar, +except a couple of Americans, who got up and walked out when the comedian +clasped a white girl round the waist in one of his songs. The negro made +some remark that Peter couldn't catch, and the place shook with laughter. + +At half-time everyone flocked into a queer kind of semi-underground hall +whose walls were painted to represent a cave, dingy cork festoons and +"rocks" adding to the illusion. Here, at long tables, everyone drank +innocuous French beer, that was really quite cool and good. It was rather +like part of an English bank holiday. Everybody spoke to everybody else, +and there were no classes and distinctions. You could only get one glass +of beer, for the simple reason that there were too many drinking and too +few supplying the drinks for more in the time. + +"I must go," said Pennell, "but don't you bother to come." + +"Oh yes, I will," said Peter, and they got up together. + +In the entrance-hall, however, a girl was apparently waiting for someone, +and as they passed Peter recognised her. "Louise!" he exclaimed. + +She smiled and held out her hand. Peter took it, and Pennell after him. + +"Do you go now?" she asked them. "The concert is not half finished." + +"I've got to get back to work," said Pennell, "worse luck. It is la +guerre, you know!" + +"Poor boy!" said she gaily. "And you?" turning to Peter. + +Moved by an impulse, he shook his head. "No," he said, "I was only seeing +him home." + +"Bien! See me home instead, then," said Louise. + +"Nothing doing," said Peter, using a familiar phrase. + +She laughed. "Bah! cannot a girl have friends without that, eh? You have +a fiancée, 'ave you not? Oh yes, I remember--I remember very well. Come! +I have done for to-day; I am tired. I will make you some coffee, and we +shall talk. Is it not so?" + +Peter looked at Pennell. "Do you mind, Pen?" he asked. "I'd rather like +to." + +"Not a scrap," said the other cheerfully; "wish I could come too. Ask me +another day, Louise, will you?" + +She regarded him with her head a little on one side. "I do not know," she +said. "I do not think you would talk with me as he will. You like what +you can get from the girls of France now; but after, no more. Monsieur, +'e is different. He want not quite the same. Oh, I know! Allons." + +Pennell shrugged his shoulders. "One for me," he said. "Well, good-night. +I hope you both enjoy yourselves." + +In five minutes Peter and Louise were walking together down the street. A +few passers-by glanced at them, or especially at her, but she took no +notice, and Peter, in a little, felt the strangeness of it all much less. +He deliberately crossed once or twice to get between her and the road, as +he would have done with a lady, and moved slightly in front of her when +they encountered two drunken men. She chatted about nothing in +particular, and Peter thought to himself that he might almost have been +escorting Hilda home. But if Hilda had seen him! + +She ushered him into her flat. It was cosy and nicely furnished, very +different from that of the afternoon. A photograph or two stood about in +silver frames, a few easy-chairs, a little table, a bookshelf, and a +cupboard. A fire was alight in the grate; Louise knelt down and poked it +into a flame. + +"You shall have French coffee," she said. "And I have even lait for you." +She put a copper kettle on the fire, and busied herself with cups and +saucers. These she arranged on the little table, and drew it near the +fire. Then she offered him a cigarette from a gold case, and took one +herself. "Ah!" she said, sinking back into a chair. "Now we are, as you +say, comfy, is it not so? We can talk. Tell me how you like la France, +and what you do." + +Peter tried, but failed rather miserably, and the shrewd French girl +noticed it easily enough. She all but interrupted him as he talked of +Abbeville and the raid. "Mon ami," she said, "you have something on your +mind. You do not want to talk of these things. Tell me." + +Peter looked into the kindly keen eyes. "You are right, Louise," he said. +"This is a day of trouble for me." + +She nodded. "Tell me," she said again. "But first, what is your name, mon +ami? It is hard to talk if one does not know even the name." + +He hardly hesitated. It seemed natural to say it. "Peter," he said. + +She smiled, rolling the "r." "Peterr. Well, Peterr, go on." + +"I'll tell you about to-day first," he said, and, once launched, did so +easily. He told the little story well, and presently forgot the strange +surroundings. It was all but a confession, and surely one was never more +strangely made. And from the story he spoke of Julie, but concealed her +identity, and then he spoke of God. Louise hardly said a word. She poured +out coffee in the middle, but that was all. At last he finished. + +"Louise," he said, "it comes to this: I've nothing left but Julie. It was +she restrained me this afternoon, I think. I'm mad for her; I want her +and nothing else. But with her, somehow, I lose everything else I possess +or ever thought I possessed." And he stopped abruptly, for she did not +know his business in life, and he had almost given it away. + +When he had finished she slipped a hand into his, and said no word. +Suddenly she looked up. "Peterr, mon ami," she said, "listen to me. I +will tell you the story of Louise, of me. My father, he lived--oh, it +matters not; but he had some money, he was not poor. I went to a good +school, and I came home for the holidays. I had one sister older than +me. Presently I grew up; I learnt much; I noticed. I saw there were +terrible things, chez nous. My mother did not care, but I--I cared. I was +mad. I spoke to my sister: it was no good. I spoke to my father, and, +truly, I thought he would kill me. He beat me--ah, terrible--and I ran +from the house. I wept under the hedges: I said I would no more go 'ome. +I come to a big city. I found work in a big shop--much work, little +money--ah, how little! Then I met a friend: he persuade me, at last he +keep me--two months, three, or more; then comes the war. He is an +officer, and he goes. We kiss, we part--oui, he love me, that officer. I +pray for him: I think I nevair leave the church; but it is no good. He is +dead. Then I curse le bon Dieu. They know me in that place: I can do +nothing unless I will go to an 'otel--to be for the officers, you +understand? I say, Non. I sell my things and I come here. Here I do +well--you understand? I am careful; I have now my home. But this is what +I tell you, Peterr: one does wrong to curse le bon Dieu. He is wise--ah, +how wise!--it is not for me to say. And good--ah, Jesu! how good! You +think I do not know; I, how should I know? But I know. I do not +understand. For me, I am caught; I am like the bird in the cage. I cannot +get out. So I smile, I laugh--and I wait." + +She ceased. Peter was strangely moved, and he pressed the hand he held +almost fiercely. The tragedy of her life seemed so great that he hardly +dare speak of his own. But: "What has it to do with me?" he demanded. + +She gave a little laugh. "'Ow should I say?" she said. "But you think God +not remember you, and, Peterr, He remember all the time." + +"And Julie?" quizzed Peter after a moment. + +Louise shrugged her shoulders. "This love," she said, "it is one great +thing. For us women it is perhaps the only great thing, though your +English women are blind, are dead, they do not see. Julie, she is as us, +I think. She is French inside. La pauvre petite, she is French in the +heart." + +"Well?" demanded Peter again. + +"C'est tout, mon ami. But I am sorry for Julie." + +"Louise," said Peter impulsively, "you're better than I--a thousand +times. I don't know how to thank you." And he lifted her hand to his +lips. + +He hardly touched it. She sprang up, withdrawing it. "Ah, non, non," +she cried. "You must not. You forget. It is easy for you, for you are +good--yes, so good. You think I did not notice in the street, but I see. +You treat me like a lady, and now you kiss my hand, the hand of the girl +of the street.... Non, non!" she protested vehemently, her eyes alight. +"I would kiss your feet!" + +Outside, in the darkened street, Peter walked slowly home. At the gate of +the camp he met Arnold, returning from a visit to another mess. "Hullo!" +he called to Peter, "and where have you been?" + +Peter looked at him for a moment without replying. "_I'm_ not sure, but +seeing for the first time a little of what Christ saw, Arnold, I think," +he said at last, with a catch in his voice. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Looking back on them afterwards, Peter saw the months that followed as a +time of waiting between two periods of stress. Not, of course, that +anyone can ever stand still, for even if one does but sit by a fire and +warm one's hands, things happen, and one is imperceptibly led forward. It +was so in this case, but, not unnaturally, Graham hardly noticed in what +way his mind was moving. He had been through a period of storm, and he +had to a certain extent emerged from it. The men he had met, and above +all Julie, had been responsible for the opening of his eyes to facts that +he had before passed over, and it was entirely to his credit that he +would not refuse to accept them and act upon them. But once he had +resolved to do so things, as it were, slowed down. He went about his work +in a new spirit, the spirit not of the teacher, but of the learner, and +ever since his talk with Louise he thought--or tried to think--more of +what love might mean to Julie than to himself. The result was a curious +change in their relations, of which the girl was more immediately and +continually conscious than Peter. She puzzled over it, but could not get +the clue, and her quest irritated her. Peter had always been the least +little bit nervous in her presence. She had known that he never knew what +she would do or say next, and her knowledge had amused and carried her +away. But now he was so self-possessed. Very friendly they were, and they +met often--in the ward for a few sentences that meant much to each of +them; down town by arrangement in a cafe, or once or twice for dinner; +and once for a day in the country, though not alone; and he was always +the same. Sometimes, on night duty, she would grope for an adjective to +fit him, and could only think of "tender." He was that. And she hated it, +or all but hated it. She did not want tenderness from him, for it seemed +to her that tenderness meant that he was, as it were, standing aloof from +her, considering, helping when he could. She demanded the fierce rush of +passion with which he would seize and shrine her in the centre of his +heart, deaf to her entreaties, careless of her pain. She would love then, +she thought, and sometimes, going to the window of the ward and staring +out over the harbour at the twinkling lights, she would bite her lip with +the pain of it. He had thought she dismissed love lightly when she called +it animal passion. Good God, if he only knew!... + +Peter, for his part, did not realise so completely the change that had +come over him. For one thing, he saw himself all the time, and she did +not. She did not see him when he lay on his bed in a tense agony of +desire for her. She did not see him when life looked like a tumbled heap +of ruins to him and she smiled beyond. She all but only saw him when he +was staring at the images that had been presented to him during the past +months, or hearing in imagination Louise's quaintly accepted English and +her quick and vivid "La pauvre petite!" + +For it was Louise, curiously enough, who affected him most in these days. +A friendship sprang up between them of which no one knew. Pennell and +Donovan, with whom he went everywhere, did not speak of it either to him +or to one another, with that real chivalry that is in most men, but if +they had they would have blundered, misunderstanding. Arnold, of whom +Peter saw a good deal, did not know, or, if he knew, Peter never knew +that he knew. Julie, who was well aware of his friendship with the two +first men, knew that he saw French girls, and, indeed, openly chaffed +him about it. But under her chaff was an anxiety, typical of her. She did +not know how far he went in their company, and she would have given +anything to know. She guessed that, despite everything, he had had no +physical relationship with any one of them, and she almost wished it +might be otherwise. She knew well that if he fell to them, he would the +more readily turn to her. There was a strength about him now that she +dreaded. + +Whatever Louise thought she kept wonderfully hidden. He took her out to +dinner in quiet places, and she would take him home to coffee, and they +would chat, and there was an end. She was seemingly well content. She did +her business, and they would even speak of it. "I cannot come to-night, +mon ami," she would say; "I am busy." She would nod to him as she passed +out of the restaurant with someone else, and he would smile back at her. +Nor did he ever remonstrate or urge her to change her ways. And she +knew why. He had no key with which to open her cage. + +Once, truly, he attempted it, and it was she who refused the glittering +thing. He rarely came uninvited to her flat, for obvious reasons; but one +night she heard him on the stairs as she got ready for bed. He was +walking unsteadily, and she thought at first that he had been drinking. +She opened to him with the carelessness her life had taught her, her +costume off, and her black hair all about her shoulders. "Go in and wait, +Peterr," she said; "I come." + +She had slipped on a coloured silk wrap, and gone in to the sitting-room +to find him pacing up and down. She smiled. "Sit down, mon ami," she +said; "I will make the coffee. See, it is ready. Mais vraiment, you shall +drink café noir to-night. And one leetle glass of this--is it not so?" +and she took a green bottle of peppermint liqueur from the cupboard. + +"Coffee, Louise," he said, "but not the other. I don't want it." + +She turned and looked more closely at him then. "Non," she said, "pardon. +But sit you down. Am I to have the wild beast prowling up and down in my +place?" + +"That's just it, Louise," he cried; "I am a wild beast to-night. I can't +stand it any longer. Kiss me." + +He put his arms round her, and bent her head back, studying her French +and rather inscrutable eyes, her dark lashes, her mobile mouth, her long +white throat. He put his hand caressingly upon it, and slid his fingers +beneath the loose lace that the open wrap exposed. "Dear," he said, "I +want you to-night." + +"To-night, chérie?" she questioned. + +"Yes, now," he said hotly. "And why not? You give to other men--why not +to me, Louise?" + +She freed herself with a quick gesture, and, brave heart, she laughed +merrily. The devil must have started at that laugh, and the angels of God +sung for joy. "Ah, non," she cried, "It is the mistake you make. I _sell_ +myself to other men. But you--you are my friend; I cannot sell myself to +you." + +He did not understand altogether why she quibbled; how should he have +done? But lie was ashamed. He slid into the familiar chair and ran his +fingers through his hair. "Forgive me, dear," he muttered. "I think I am +mad to-night, but I am not drunk, as you thought, except with worrying. +I feel lost, unclean, body and soul, and I thought you would help me to +forget--no, more than that, help me to feel a man. Can't you, won't you?" +he demanded, looking up. "I am tired of play-acting. I've a body, like +other men. Let me plunge down deep to-night, Louise. It will do me good, +and it doesn't matter. That girl was right after all. Oh, what a fool I +am!" + +Then did the girl of the streets set out to play her chosen part. She did +not preach at all--how could she? Besides, neither had she any use for +the Ten Commandments. But if ever Magdalene broke an alabaster-box of +very precious ointment, Louise did so that night. She was worldly wise, +and she did not disdain to use her wisdom. And when he had gone she got +calmly into bed, and slept--not all at once, it is true, but as +resolutely as she had laughed and talked. It was only when she woke in +the morning that she found her pillow wet with tears. + +It was a few days later that Louise took Peter to church. His ignorance +of her religion greatly amused her, or so at least she pretended, and +when he asked her to come out of town to lunch one morning, and she +refused because it was Corpus Christi, and she wanted to go to the sung +Mass, it was he who suggested that he should go with her. She looked at +him queerly a moment, and then agreed. They met outside the church and +went in together, as strange a pair as ever the meshes of that ancient +net which gathers of all kinds had ever drawn towards the shore. + +Louise led him to a central seat, and found the place for him in her +Prayer-Book. The building was full, and Peter glanced about him +curiously. The detachment of the worshippers impressed him immensely. +There did not appear to be any proscribed procedure among them, and even +when the Mass began he was one of the few who stood and knelt as the +rubrics of the service directed. Louise made no attempt to do so. For the +most part she knelt, and her beads trickled ceaselessly through her +fingers. + +Peter was, if anything, bored by the Mass, though he would not admit it +to himself. It struck him as being a ratherly poorly played performance. +True, the officiating ministers moved and spoke with a calm regularity +which impressed him, familiar as he was with clergymen who gave out hymns +and notices, and with his own solicitude at home that the singing should +go well or that the choirboys should not fidget. But there was a terrible +confusion with chairs, and a hideous kind of clapper that was used, +apparently, to warn the boys to sit and rise. The service, moreover, as a +reverential congregational act of worship such as he was used to hope +for, was marred by innumerable collections, and especially by the old +woman who came round even during the _Sanctus_ to collect the rent of the +chairs they occupied, and changed money or announced prices with all the +zest of the market-place. + +But at the close there was a procession which is worth considerable +description. Six men with censers of silver lined up before the high +altar, and stood there, slowly swinging the fragrant bowls at the end of +their long chains. The music died down. One could hear the rhythmical, +faint clangour of the metal. And then, intensely sudden, away in the west +gallery, but almost as if from the battlements of heaven, pealed out +silver trumpets in a fanfare. The censers flew high in time with it, and +the sweet clouds of smoke, caught by the coloured sunlight of the rich +painted windows, unfolded in the air of the sanctuary. Lights moved and +danced, and the space before the altar filled with the white of the men +and boys who should move in the procession. Again and again those +trumpets rang out, and hardly had the last echoes died away than the +organ thundered the _Pange Lingua_, as a priest in cloth of gold turned +from the altar with the glittering monstrance in his hand. Even from +where he stood Peter could see the white centre of the Host for Whom +all this was enacted. Then the canopy, borne by four French laymen in +frock-coats and white gloves, hid It from his sight; and the high gold +cross, and its attendant tapers, swung round a great buttress into view. + +Peter had never heard a hymn sung so before. First the organ would peal +alone; then the men's voices unaided would take up the refrain; then the +organ again; then the clear treble of the boys; then, like waves breaking +on immemorial cliffs, organ, trumpets, boys, men, and congregation would +thunder out together till the blood raced in his veins and his eyes were +too dim to see. + +Down the central aisle at last they came, and Peter knelt with the rest. +He saw how the boys went before throwing flowers; how in pairs, as the +censers were recharged, the thurifers walked backward before the three +beneath the canopy, of whom one, white-haired and old, bore That in +the monstrance which all adored. In music and light and colour and scent +the Host went by, as It had gone for centuries in that ancient place, and +Peter knew, all bewildered as he was, there, by the side of the girl, +that a new vista was opening before his eyes. + +It was not that he understood as yet, or scarcely so. In a few minutes +all had passed them, and he rose and turned to see the end. He watched +while, amid the splendour of that court, with singers and ministers and +thurifers arranged before, the priest ascended to enthrone the Sacrament +in the place prepared for It. With banks of flowers behind, and the +glitter of electric as well as of candle light, the jewelled rays of the +monstrance gleaming and the organ pealing note on note in a triumphant +ecstasy, the old, bent priest placed That he carried there, and sank down +before It. Then all sound of singing and of movement died away, and from +that kneeling crowd one lone, thin voice, but all unshaken, cried to +Heaven of the need of men. It was a short prayer and he could not +understand it, but it seemed to Peter to voice his every need, and to go +on and on till it reached the Throne. The "Amen" beat gently about him, +and he sank his face in his hands. + +But only for a second. The next he was lifted to his feet. All that had +gone before was as nothing to this volume of praise that shook, it seemed +to him, the very carven roof above and swept the ancient walls in waves +of sound. + +_Adoremus in aeternum Sanctissimum Sacramentum_, cried men on earth, and, +as it seemed to him, the very angels of God. + +But outside he collected his thoughts. "Well," he said. "I'm glad I've +been, but I shan't go again." + +"Why not?" demanded Louise. "It was most beautiful. I have never 'eard it +better." + +"Oh yes, it was," said Peter; "the music and singing were wonderful, +but--forgive me if I hurt you, but I can't help saying it--I see now what +our people mean when they say it is nothing less than idolatry." + +"Idolatry?" queried Louise, stumblingly and bewildered. "But what do you +mean?" + +"Well," said Peter, "the Sacrament is, of course, a holy thing, a very +holy thing, the sign and symbol of Christ Himself, but in that church +sign and symbol were forgotten; the Sacrament was worshipped as if it +were very God." + +"Oui, oui," protested Louise vehemently, "It is. It is le bon Jesu. It is +He who is there. He passed by us among them all, as we read He went +through the crowds of Jerusalem in the holy Gospel. And there was not one +He did not see, either," she added, with a little break in her voice. + +Peter all but stopped in the road. It was absurd that so simple a thing +should have seemed to him new, but it is so with us all. We know in a +way, but we do not understand, and then there comes the moment of +illumination--sometimes. + +"Jesus Himself!" he exclaimed, and broke off abruptly. He recalled a +fragment of speech: "Not a dead man, not a man on the right hand of the +throne of God." But "He can't be found," Langton had said. Was it so? He +walked on in silence. What if Louise, with her pitiful story and her +caged, earthy life, had after all found what the other had missed? He +pulled himself together; it was too good to be true. + +One day Louise asked him abruptly if he had been to see the girl in +the house which he had visited with Pennell. He told her no, and she +said--they had met by chance in the town--"Well, go you immediately, +then, or you will not see her." + +"What do you mean?" he asked. "Is she ill--dying?" + +"Ah, non, not dying, but she is ill. They will take her to a 'ospital +to-morrow. But this afternoon she will be in bed. She like to see you, +I think." + +Peter left her and made for the house. On his way he thought of +something, and took a turning which led to the market-place of flowers. +There, at a stall, he bought a big bunch of roses and some sprays of +asparagus fern, and set off again. Arriving, he found the door shut. It +was a dilemma, for he did not even know the girl's name, but he knocked. + +A grim-faced woman opened the door and stared at him and his flowers. "I +think there is a girl sick here," said Peter. "May I see her?" + +The woman stared still harder, and he thought she was going to refuse him +admission, but at length she gave way. "Entrez," she said. "Je pense que +vous savez le chambre. Mais, le bouquet--c'est incroyable." + +Peter went up the stairs and knocked at the door. A voice asked who was +there, and he smiled because he could not say. The girl did not know his +name, either. "A friend," he said: "May I come in?" + +A note of curiosity sounded in her voice. "Oui, certainement. Entrez," +she called. Peter turned the handle and entered the remembered room. + +The girl was sitting up in bed in her nightdress, her hair in disorder, +and the room felt hot and stuffy and looked more tawdry than ever. She +exclaimed at the sight of his flowers. He deposited the big bunch by the +side of her, and seated himself on the edge of the bed. She had been +reading a book, and he noticed it was the sort of book that Langton and +he had seen so prominently in the book-shop at Abbeville. + +If he had expected to find her depressed or ashamed, he was entirely +mistaken. "Oh, you darling," she cried in clipped English. "Kiss me, +quick, or I will forget the orders of the doctor and jump out of bed and +catch you. Oh, that you should bring me the rose so beautiful! Hélas! I +may not wear one this night in the café! See, are they not beautiful +here?" + +She pulled her nightdress open considerably more than the average evening +dress is cut away and put two or three of the blooms on her white bosom, +putting her head on one side to see the result. "Oui," she exclaimed, "je +suis exquise! To-night I 'ave so many boys I do not know what to do! But +I forget: I cannot go. Je suis malade, très malade. You knew? You are +angry with me--is it not so?" + +He laughed; there was nothing else to do. "No," he said; "why should I +be? But I am very sorry." + +She shrugged her shoulders. "It is nothing," she said. "C'est la guerre +for me. I shall not be long, and when I come out you will come to see me +again, will you not? And bring me more flowers? And you shall not let me +'ave the danger any more, and if I do wrong you shall smack me 'ard. +Per'aps you will like that. In the books men like it much. Would you like +to whip me?" she demanded, her eyes sparkling as she threw herself over +in the bed and looked up at him. + +Peter got up and moved away to the window. "No," he said shortly, staring +out. He had a sensation of physical nausea, and it was as much as he +could do to restrain himself. He realised, suddenly, that he was in the +presence of the world, the flesh, and the devil's final handiwork. Only +his new knowledge kept him quiet. Even she might be little to blame. He +remembered all that she had said to him before, and suddenly his disgust +was turned into overwhelming pity. This child before him--for she was +little more than a child--had bottomed degradation. For the temporary +protection and favour of a man that she guessed to be kind there was +nothing in earth or in hell that she would not do. And in her already +were the seeds of the disease that was all but certain to slay her. + +He turned again to the bed, and knelt beside it. "Poor little girl," he +said, and lightly brushed her hair. He certainly never expected the +result. + +She pushed him from her. "Oh, go, go!" she cried. "Quick go! You pretend, +but you do not love me. Why you give me money, the flowers, if you do not +want me? Go quick. Come never to see me again!" + +Peter did the only thing he could do; he went. "Good-bye," he said +cheerfully at the door. "I hope you will be better soon. I didn't mean to +be a beast to you. Give the flowers to Lucienne if you don't want them; +she will be able to wear them to-night. Cheerio. Good-bye-ee!" + +"Good-bye-ee!" she echoed after him. And he closed the door on her life. + +In front of the Hôtel de Ville he met Arnold, returning from the club, +and the two men walked off together. In a moment of impulse he related +the whole story to him. "Now," he said, "what do you make of all that?" + +Arnold was very moved. It was not his way to say much, but he walked on +silently for a long time. Then he said: "The Potter makes many vessels, +but never one needlessly. I hold on to that. And He can remake the broken +clay." + +"Are you sure?" asked Peter. + +"I am," said Arnold. "It's not in the Westminster Confession, nor in the +Book of Common Prayer, nor, for all I know, in the Penny Catechism, but I +believe it. God Almighty must be stronger than the devil, Graham." + +Peter considered this. Then he shook his head. "That won't wash, Arnold," +he said. "If God is stronger than the devil, so that the devil is never +ultimately going to succeed, I can see no use in letting him have his +fling at all. And I've more respect for the devil than to think he'd take +it. It's childish to suppose the existence of two such forces at a +perpetual game of cheat. Either there is no devil and there is no +hell--in which case I reckon that there is no heaven either, for a heaven +would not be a heaven if it were not attained, and there would be no true +attainment if there were no possibility of failure--or else there are all +three. And if there are all three, the devil wins out, sometimes, in the +end." + +"Then, God is not almighty?" + +Peter shrugged his shoulders. "If I breed white mice, I don't lessen my +potential power if I choose to let some loose in the garden to see if the +cat will get them. Besides, in the end I could annihilate the cat if I +wanted to." + +"You can't think of God so," cried Arnold sharply. + +"Can't I?" demanded Peter. "Well, maybe not, Arnold; I don't know that I +can think of Him at all. But I can face the facts of life, and if I'm not +a coward, I shan't run away from them. That's what I've been doing these +days, and that's what I do not think even a man like yourself does +fairly. You think, I take it, that a girl like that is damned utterly by +all the canons of theology, and then, forced on by pity and tenderness, +you cry out against them all that she is God's making and He will not +throw her away. Is that it?" + +Arnold slightly evaded an answer. "How can you save her, Graham?" he +asked. + +"I can't. I don't pretend I can. I've nothing to say or do. I see only +one flicker of hope, and that lies in the fact that she doesn't +understand what love is. No shadow of the truth has ever come her way. +If now, by any chance, she could see for one instant--in _fact_, mind +you--the face of God.... If God is Love," he added. They walked a dozen +paces. "And even then she might refuse," he said. + +"Whose fault would that be?" demanded the older man. + +Peter answered quickly, "Whose fault? Why, all our faults--yours and +mine, and the fault of men like Pennell and Donovan, as well as her own, +too, as like as not. We've all helped build up the scheme of things as +they are, and we are all responsible. We curse the Germans for making +this damned war, and it is the war that has done most to make that girl; +but they didn't make it. No Kaiser made it, and no Nietzsche. The only +person who had no hand in it that I know of was Jesus Christ." + +"And those who have left all and followed Him," said Arnold softly. + +"Precious few," retorted Peter. + +The other had nothing to say. + + * * * * * + +During these months Peter wrote often to Hilda, and with increasing +frankness. Her replies grew shorter as his letters grew longer. It was +strange, perhaps, that he should continue to write, but the explanation +was not far to seek. It was by her that he gauged the extent of his +separation from the old outlook, and in her that he still clung, +desperately, as it were, to the past. Against reason he elevated her +into a kind of test position, and if her replies gave him no +encouragement, they at least served to make him feel the inevitableness +and the reality of his present position. It would have been easy to get +into the swim and let it carry him carelessly on--moderately easy, at any +rate. But with Hilda to refer to he was forced to take notice, and it was +she, therefore, that hastened the end. Just after Christmas, in a fit of +temporary boldness, he told her about Louise, so that it was Louise again +who was the responsible person during these months. Hilda's reply was +delayed, nor had she written immediately. When he got it, it was brief +but to the point. She did not doubt, she said, but that what he had +written was strictly true, and she did not doubt his honour. But he must +see that their relationship was impossible. She couldn't marry the man +who appeared actually to like the company of such a woman, nor could she +do other than feel that the end would seem to him as plain as it did to +her, and that he would leave the Church, or at any rate such a ministry +in it as she could share. She had told her people that she was no longer +engaged in order that he should feel free, but she would ever remember +the man as she had known him, whom she had loved, and whom she loved +still. + +It was in the afternoon that Peter got the letter, and he was just +setting off for the hospital. When he had read it, he put on his cap and +set off in the opposite direction. There was a walk along the sea-wall a +few feet wide, where the wind blew strongly laden with the Channel +breezes, and on the other side was a waste of sand and stone. In some +places water was on both sides of the wall, and here one could feel more +alone than anywhere else in the town. + +Peter set off, his head in a mad whirl. He had felt that such a letter +would come for weeks, but that did not, in a way, lessen the blow when it +came. He had known, too, that Hilda was not to him what she had been, but +he had not altogether felt that she never could be so again. Now he knew +that he had gone too far to turn back. He felt, he could not help it, +released in a sense, with almost a sense of exhilaration behind it, for +the unknown lay before. And yet, since we are all so human, he was +intensely unhappy below all this. He called to mind little scenes and +bits of scenes: their first meeting; the sight of her in church as he +preached; how she had looked at the dining-table in Park Lane; her walk +as she came to meet him in the park. And he knew well enough how he had +hurt her, and the thought maddened him. He told himself that God was a +devil to treat him so; that he had tried to follow the right; and that +the way had led him down towards nothing but despair. He was no nearer +answering the problems that beset him. He might have been in a fool's +paradise before, but what was the use of coming out to see the devil as +he was and men and women as they were if he could see no more than that? +The throne of his heart was empty, and there was none to fill it. + +Julie? + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The sea-wall ended not far from Donovan's camp of mud and cinders, and +having got there, Peter thought he would go on and get a cup of tea. He +crossed the railway-lines, steered through a great American rest camp, +crossed the canal, and entered the camp. It was a cheerless place in +winter, and the day was drawing in early with a damp fog. A great French +airship was cruising around overhead and dropping down towards her +resting-place in the great hangar near by. She looked cold and ghostly up +aloft, the more so when her engines were shut off, and Peter thought how +chilly her crew must be. He had a hankering after Donovan's cheery +humour, especially as he had not seen him for some time. He crossed the +camp and made for the mess-room. + +It was lit and the curtains were drawn, and, at the door, he stopped dead +at the sound of laughter. Then he walked quickly in. "Caught out, by +Jove!" said Donovan's voice. "You're for it, Julie." + +A merry party sat round the stove, taking tea. Julie and Miss Raynard +were both there, with Pennell and another man from Donovan's camp. Julie +wore furs and had plainly just come in, for her cheeks were glowing with +exercise. Pennell was sitting next Miss Raynard, but Donovan, on a +wooden camp-seat, just beyond where Julie sat in a big cushioned chair, +looked out at him from almost under Julie's arm, as he bent forward. The +other man was standing by the table, teapot in hand. + +One thinks quickly at such a time, and Peter's mind raced. Something of +the old envy and almost fear of Donovan that he had had first that day in +the hospital came back to him. He had not seen the two together for so +long that it struck him like a blow to hear Donovan call her by her +Christian name. It flashed across his mind also that she knew that it +was his day at the hospital, and that she had deliberately gone out; but +it dawned on him equally quickly that he must hide all that. + +"I should jolly well think so," he said, laughing. "How do you do, Miss +Raynard? Donovan, can you give me some tea? I've come along the sea-wall, +and picked up a regular appetite. Are you in the habit of taking tea +here, Julie? I thought nurses were not allowed in camps." + +She looked at him quickly, but he missed the meaning of her glance. +"Rather," she said; "I come here for tea about once a week, don't I, +Jack? No, nurses are not allowed in camps, but I always do what's not +allowed as far as possible. And this is so snug and out of the way. Mr. +Pennell, you can give me a cigarette now." + +The other man offered Peter tea, which he took. "And how did the +festivities go off at Christmas?" he asked. + +"Oh, topping," said Julie. "Let me see, you were at the play, so I +needn't talk about that; but you thought it good, didn't you?" + +"Rippin'" said Peter. + +"Well," said Julie, "then there was the dance on Boxing Night. We had +glorious fun. Jack, here, behaved perfectly abominably. He sat out about +half the dances, and I should think he kissed every pretty girl in the +room. Then we went down to the nurses' quarters of the officers' hospital +and made cocoa of all things, and had a few more dances on our own. They +made me dance a skirt dance on the table, and as I had enough laces on +this time, I did. After that--but I don't think I'll tell you what we did +after that. Why didn't you come?" + +Peter had been at a big Boxing Night entertainment for the troops in the +Y.M.C.A. Central Hall, but he did not say so. "Oh," he said, "I had to go +to another stunt, but I must say I wish I'd been at yours. May I have +another cup of tea?" + +The third man gave it to him again, and then, apologizing, left the room. +Donovan exchanged glances with Julie, and she nodded. + +"I say, Graham," said Donovan, "I'll tell you what we've really met here +for to-day. We were going to fix it up and then ask you; but as you've +dropped in, we'll take it as a dispensation of Providence and let you +into the know. What do you say to a really sporting dinner at the New +Year?" + +"Who's to be asked?" queried Peter, looking round. "Fives into a dinner +won't go." + +"I should think not," cried Julie gaily. "Jack, here, is taking me, +aren't you?" Donovan said "I am" with great emphasis, and made as if he +would kiss her, and she pushed him off, laughing, holding her muff to his +face. Then she went on: "You're to take Tommy. It is Tommy's own +particular desire, and you ought to feel flattered. She says your auras +blend, whatever that may be; and as to Mr. Pennell, he's got a girl +elsewhere whom he will ask. Three and three make six; what do you think +of that?" + +"Julie," said Tommy Raynard composedly, "you're the most fearful liar +I've ever met. But I trust Captain Graham knows you well enough by now." + +"I do," said Peter, but a trifle grimly, though he tried not to show +it--"I do. I must say I'm jolly glad Donovan will be responsible for you. +It's going to be 'some' evening, I can see, and what you'll do if you get +excited I don't know. Flirt with the proprietor and have his wife down on +us, as like as not. In which event it's Donovan who'll have to make the +explanations. But come on, what are the details?" + +"Tell him, Jack," said Julie. "He's a perfect beast, and I shan't speak +to him again." + +Peter laughed. "Pas possible," he said. "But come on, Donovan; do as +you're told." + +"Well, old bird," said Donovan, "first we meet here. Got that? It's safer +than any other camp, and we don't want to meet in town. We'll have tea +and a chat and then clear off. We'll order dinner in a private room at +the Grand, and it'll be a dinner fit for the occasion. They've got some +priceless sherry there, and some old white port. Cognac fine champagne +for the liqueur, and what date do you think?--1835 as I'm alive. I saw +some the other day, and spoke about it. That gave me the idea of the +dinner really, and I put it to the old horse that that brandy was worthy +of a dinner to introduce it. He tumbled at once. Veuve Cliquot as the +main wine. What about it?" + +Peter balanced himself on the back of his chair and blew out +cigarette-smoke. + +"What time are you ordering the ambulances?" he demanded. + +"The beds, you mean," cried Julie, entirely forgetting her last words. +"That's what I say. _I_ shall never be able to walk to a taxi even." + +"I'll carry you," said Donovan. + +"You won't be able, not after such a night; besides, I don't believe you +could, anyhow. You're getting flabby from lack of exercise." + +"Am I?" cried Donovan. "Let's see, anyway." + +He darted at her, slipped an arm under her skirts and another under her +arms, and lifted her bodily from the chair. + +"Jack," she shrieked, "put me down! Oh, you beast! Tommy, help, help! +Peter, make him put me down and I'll forgive you all you've said." + +Tommy Raynard sprang up, laughing, and ran after Donovan, who could not +escape her. She threw an arm round his neck and bent his head backwards. +"I shall drop her," he shouted. Peter leaped forward, and Julie landed in +his arms. + +For a second she lay still, and Peter stared down at her. With her quick +intuition she read something new in his eyes, and instantly looked away, +scrambling out and standing there flushed and breathing hard, her hands +at her hair. "You perfect brute!" she said to Donovan, laughing. "I'll +pay you out, see if I don't. All my hair's coming down." + +"Capital!" said Donovan. "I've never seen it down, and I'd love to. Here, +let me help." + +He darted at her; she dodged behind Peter; he adroitly put out a foot, +and Donovan collapsed into the big chair. + +Julie clapped her hands and rushed at him, seizing a cushion, and the two +struggled there till Tommy Raynard pulled Julie forcibly away. + +"Julie," she said, "this is a positive bear-garden. You must behave." + +"And I," said Pennell, who had not moved, "would like to know a little +more about the dinner." He spoke so dryly that they all laughed, and +order was restored. Donovan, however, refused to get out of the big +chair, and Julie deliberately sat on his knee, smiling provocatively at +him. + +Peter felt savage and bitter. Like a man, he was easily deceived, and he +had been taken by surprise at a bad moment. But he did his best to hide +it, and merely threw any remnants of caution he had left at all to the +winds. + +"I suppose this is the best we can hope for, Captain Graham," said Miss +Raynard placidly. "Perhaps now you'll give us your views. Captain Donovan +never gets beyond the drinks, but I agree with Mr. Pennell we want +something substantial." + +"I'm blest if I don't think you all confoundedly ungrateful," said +Donovan. "I worked that fine champagne for you beautifully. Anyone would +think you could walk in and order it any day. If we get it at all, it'll +be due to me and my blarney. Not but what it does deserve a good +introduction," he added. "I don't suppose there's another bottle in the +town." + +Tommy sighed. "He's off again, or he will be," she said. "Do be quick, +Captain Graham." + +"Well," said Peter. "I suggest, first, that you leave the ordering of the +room to me, and the decorations. I've most time, and I'd like to choose +the flowers. And the smokes and crackers. And I'll worry round and get +some menu-cards, and have 'em printed in style. And, if you like, I'll +interview the chef and see what he can give us. It's not much use our +discussing details without him." + +"'A Daniel come to judgment,'" said Pennell. "Padre, I didn't know you +had it in you." + +"A Solomon," said Julie mischievously. + +"A Peter Graham," said Miss Raynard. "I always knew he had more sense in +his little finger than all the rest of you in your heads." + +Donovan sighed from the depths of the chair. "Graham," he said, "for +Heaven's sake remember those..." + +Julie clapped her hand over his mouth. He kissed it. She withdrew it with +a scream. + +"...Drinks," finished Donovan. "The chef must suggest accordin'." + +"Well," said Pennell, "I reckon that's settled satisfactorily. I'll get +out my invitation. In fact, I think, if I may be excused, I'll go and do +it now." He got up and reached for his cap. + +They all laughed. "We'll see to it that there's mistletoe," cried Julie. + +"Ah, thanks!" said Pennell; "that will be jolly, though some people I +know seem to get on well enough without it. So long. See you later, +padre." + +He avoided Julie's flung cushion and stepped through the door. Miss +Raynard got up. "We ought to get a move on too, my dear," she said to +Julie. + +"Oh, not yet," protested Donovan. "Let's have some bridge. There are just +four of us." + +"You can never have played bridge with Julie, Captain Donovan," said Miss +Raynard. "She usually flings the cards at you half way through the +rubber. And she never counts. The other night she played a diamond +instead of a heart, when hearts were trumps, and she had the last and +all the rest of the tricks in her hand." + +"Ah, well," said Donovan, "women are like that. They often mistake +diamonds for hearts." + +"Jack," said Julie, "you're really clever. How do you do it? I had no +idea. Does it hurt? But don't do it again; you might break something. +Peter, you've been praised this evening, but you'd never think of that." + +"He would not," said Miss Raynard.... "Come on, Julie." + +Peter hesitated a second. Then he said: "You're going my way. May I see +you home?" + +"Thanks," said Miss Raynard, and they all made a move. + +"It's deuced dark," said Donovan. "Here, let me. I'll go first with a +candle so that you shan't miss the duck-boards." + +He passed out, Tommy Raynard after him. Peter stood back to let Julie +pass, and as she did so she said: "You're very glum and very polite +to-night, Solomon. What's the matter?" + +"Am I?" said Peter; "I didn't know it. And in any case Donovan is all +right, isn't he?" + +He could have bitten his tongue out the next minute. She looked at him +and then began to laugh silently, and, still laughing, went out before +him. Peter followed miserably. At the gate Donovan said good-bye, and the +three set out for the hospital. Miss Raynard walked between Peter and +Julie, and did most of the talking, but the ground was rough and the path +narrow, and it was not until they got on to the dock road that much could +be said. + +"This is the best Christmas I've ever had," declared Miss Raynard. "I'm +feeling positively done up. There was something on every afternoon and +evening last week, and then Julie sits on my bed till daybreak, more or +less, and smokes cigarettes. We've a bottle of benedictine, too, and it +always goes to her head. The other night she did a Salome dance on the +strength of it." + +"It was really fine," said Julie. "You ought to have seen me." + +"Till the towel slipped off: not then, I hope," said Tommy dryly. + +"I don't suppose he'd have minded--would you, Peter?" + +"Not a bit," said Peter cheerfully--"on the contrary." + +"I don't know if you two are aware that you are positively indecent," +said Tommy. "Let's change the subject. What's your news, Captain Graham?" + +Peter smiled in the dark to himself. "Well," he said, "not much, but I'm +hoping for leave soon. I've pushed in for it, and our Adjutant told me +this morning he thought it would go through." + +"Lucky man! I've got to wait three months. But yours ought to be about +now, Julie." + +"I think it ought," said Julie shortly. Then: "What about the menu-cards, +Peter? Would you like me to help you choose them?" + +"Would you?" said he eagerly. "To-morrow?" + +"I'm on duty at five o'clock, but I can get off for an hour in the +afternoon. Could you come, Tommy?" + +"No. Sorry; but I must write letters. I haven't written one for ages." + +"Nor have I," said Julie, "but I don't mean to. I hate letters. Well, +what about it, Peter?" + +"I should think we had better try that stationer's in the Rue Thiers," he +said. "If that won't do, the Nouvelles Galeries might. What do you +think?" + +"Let's try the Galeries first. We could meet there. Say at three, eh? I +want to get some baby-ribbon, too." + +Tommy sighed audibly. "She's off again," she said. + +"Thank God, here's the hospital! Good-night, Captain Graham. You mustn't +cross the Rubicon to-night." + +"You oughtn't to swear before him," said Julie in mock severity. "And +what in the world is the Rubicon?" + +"Materially, to-night, it's the railway-line between his camp and the +hospital," said Tommy Raynard. "What else it is I'll leave him to +decide." + +She held out her hand, and Peter saw a quizzical look on her face. He +turned rather hopelessly to Julie. "I say," he said, "didn't you _know_ +it was my afternoon at the hospital?" + +"Yes," said Julie, "and I knew you didn't come. At least, I couldn't see +you in any of the wards." + +"Oh," he exclaimed, "I thought you'd been out all the afternoon. I'm +sorry. I am a damned fool, Julie!" + +She laughed in the darkness. "I've known worse, Peter," she said, and was +gone. + + * * * * * + +Next day Julie was in her most provocative of moods. Peter, eminently +respectable in his best tunic, waited ten minutes for her outside the +Nouvelles Galeries, and, like most men in his condition, considered that +she was never coming, and that he was the cynosure of neighbouring eyes. +When she did come, she was not apparently aware that she was late. She +ran her eyes over him, and gave a pretended gasp of surprise. "You're +looking wonderful, Padre Graham," she said. "Really, you're hard to live +up to. I never know what to expect or how to behave. Those black buttons +terrorise me. Come on." + +She insisted on getting her ribbon first, and turned over everything +there was to be seen at that counter. The French girl who served them was +highly amused. + +"Isn't that chic?" Julie demanded of Peter, holding up a lacy camisole +and deliberately putting it to her shoulders. "Wouldn't you love to see +me in it?" + +"I would," he said, without the ghost of a smile. + +"Well, you never will, of course," she said. "I shall never marry or be +given in marriage, and in any case, in that uniform, you've nothing +whatever to hope for.... Yes, I'll take that ribbon, thank you, +ma'm'selle. Peter, I suppose you can't carry it for me. Your pocket? Not +a bad idea; but let me put it in." + +Peter stood while she undid his breast-pocket and stuffed it inside. + +"Anything more?" demanded the French saleswoman interrogatively. + +"Not to-day, merci," said Julie. "You see, Peter, you couldn't carry +undies for me, even in your pocket; it wouldn't be respectable. _Do_ come +on. You will keep us here the entire day." + +They passed the smoking department, and she stopped suddenly. "Peter," +she said, "I'm going to give you a pipe. Those chocolates you gave me at +Christmas were too delicious for anything. What sort do you like? A +briar? Let me see if it blows nicely." She put it to her lips. "I swear +I shall start a pipe soon, in my old age. By the way, I don't believe you +have any idea how old I am--have you, Peter? Guess." + +She was quick to note the return to his old manner. He was nervous with +her, not sure of himself, and so not sure of her either. And she traded +on it. At the stationery department she made eyes at a couple of +officers, and insisted on examining Kirschner picture-postcards, some of +which she would not show him. "You can't possibly be seen looking at them +with those badges up," she whispered. "Dear me, if only Donovan were +here! He wouldn't mind, and I don't know which packet I like best. These +have got very little on, Peter--_very_ little, but I'm not sure that they +are not more decent than those. It's _much_ worse than a camisole, +you know...." + +Peter was horribly conscious that the men were smiling at her. "Julie," +he said desperately, "_do_ be sensible, just for a minute. We must get +those menu-cards." + +"Well, you go and find the books," she said merrily. "I told you you +ought not to watch me buy these. I'll take the best care of myself," and +she looked past him towards the men. + +Peter gave it up. "Julie," he said savagely, "if you make eyes any more, +I'll kiss you here and now--I swear I will." + +Julie laughed her little nearly silent chuckle, and looked at him. "I +believe you would, Peter," she said, "and I certainly mustn't risk that. +I'll be good. Are those the books? Fetch me a chair, then, and I'll look +through them." + +He bent over her as she turned the leaves. She wore a little toque that +had some relation to a nurse's uniform, but was distinctive of Julie. Her +fringe of brown hair lay along her forehead, and the thick masses of the +rest of it tempted him almost beyond endurance. "How will that do?" she +demanded, her eyes dancing. "Oh, do look at the cards and not at me! +You're a terrible person to bring shopping, Peter!" + +The card selected, she had a bright idea. "What about candle-shades?" she +queried. "We can't trust the hotel. I want some with violets on them: I +love violets." + +"Do you?" he said eagerly. "That's just what I wanted to know. Yes, it's +a fine idea; let's go and get them." + +Outside, she gave a sigh of relief, and looked at the little gold +wrist-watch on her arm. "We've time," she said. "Take me to tea." + +"You must know it's not possible," he said. "They're enforcing the order, +and one can't get tea anywhere." + +She shook her head at him. "I think, Peter," she said, "you'll never +learn the ropes. Follow me." + +Not literally, but metaphorically, he followed her. She led him to a big +confectioner's with two doors and several windows, in each of which was a +big notice of the new law forbidding teas or the purchase of chocolates. +Inside, she walked up to a girl who was standing by a counter, and who +greeted her with a smile. "It is cold outside," she said. "May I have a +warm by the fire?" + +"Certainly, mademoiselle," said the girl. "And monsieur also. Will it +please you to come round here?" + +They went behind the counter and in at a little door. There was a fire in +the grate of the small kitchen, and a kettle singing on the hob. Julie +sat down on a chair at the wooden table and looked round with +satisfaction. + +"Why, it's all ready for us!" she exclaimed. "Chocolate cakes, Suzanne, +please, _and_ hot buttered scones. I'll butter them, if you bring the +scones." + +They came, and she went to the fire, splitting them open and spreading +the butter lavishly. "I love France," she said. "All laws are made to be +broken, which is all that laws are good for, don't you think?" + +"Yes," he said deliberately, glancing at the closed door, and bent and +kissed her neck. She looked up imperiously. "Again," she said; and he +kissed her on the lips. At that she jumped up with a quick return to the +old manner: "Peter! For a parson you are the outside edge. Go and sit +down over there and recollect yourself. To begin with, if we're found, +here, there'll be a row, and if you're caught kissing me, who knows what +will happen?" + +He obeyed gaily. "Chaff away, Julie," he said, "but I shan't wear black +buttons at the dinner. You'll have to look out that night." + +She put the scones on the table, and sat down. "And if I don't?" she +queried. Peter said nothing. He had suddenly thought of something. He +looked at her, and for the first time she would not meet his eyes. + +It was thought better on New Year's Eve that they should go separately to +Donovan's camp, so Peter and Pennell set out for it alone. By the canal +Pennell left his friend to go and meet Elsie Harding, the third girl. +Peter went on alone, and found Donovan, giving some orders in the camp. +He stood with him till they saw the other four, who had met on the +tow-path, coming in together. + +"He's a dark horse," called Julie, almost before they had come up, "and +so's she. Fancy Elsie being the third! I didn't know they knew each +other. We're a Colonial party to-night, Jack--all except Peter, that is, +for Mr. Pennell is more Canadian than English. We'll teach them. By the +way, I can't go on saying 'Mr. Pennell' all night. What shall I call him, +Elsie?" + +Peter saw that the new-comer wore an Australian brooch, and caught the +unmistakable but charming accent in her reply. "He's 'Trevor' to me, and +he can be to you, if you like, Julie," she said. + +Tommy sighed audibly. "They're beginning early," she said; "but I suppose +the rest of us had better follow the general example--eh, Peter?" + +In the anteroom, where tea was ready, Peter saw that Elsie was likely to +play Julie a good second. She was tall, taller than Pennell himself, and +dark skinned, with black hair and full red lips, and rather bigly built. +It appeared that her great gift was a set of double joints that allowed +her to play the contortionist with great effect. "You should just see her +in tights," said Julie. "Trevor, why didn't you say whom you were +bringing, and I'd have made her put them on. Then we could have had an +exhibition, but, as it is, I suppose we can't." + +"I didn't know you knew her," he said. + +"You never have time to talk of other people when you're together, I +suppose," she retorted. "Well, I've no doubt you make the most of your +opportunities, and you're very wise. But to-night you've got to behave, +more or less--at least, till after the coffee. Otherwise all our +preparations will be wasted--won't they, Peter?" + +After tea they set off together for the tram-car that ran into town. It +was Julie who had decided this. She said she liked to see the people, and +the cars were so perfectly absurd, which was true. Also, that it would be +too early to enjoy taxis, the which was very like her. So they walked in +a body to the terminus, where a crowd of Tommies and French workmen and +factory girls were waiting. The night was cloudy and a little damp, but +it had the effect of adding mystery to the otherwise ugly street, and to +the great ships under repair in the dockyards close by. The lights of the +tram appeared at length round the corner, an engine-car and two trailers. +There was a bolt for them. They were packed on the steps, and the men had +to use elbows freely to get the whole party in, but the soldiers and the +workmen were in excellent humour, and the French girls openly admiring of +Julie. In the result, then, they were all hunched up in the end of a +"first" compartment, and Peter found himself with his back to the glass +door, Julie on his right, Elsie on his left. + +"Every rib I have is broken," said the former. + +"The natural or the artificial?" demanded Elsie. "Personally, I think I +broke a few of other people's." + +They started, and the rattling of the ramshackle cars stopped +conversation. Julie drew Peter's attention to a little scene on the +platform outside, and he looked through the glass to see a big French +linesman with his girl. The man had got her into a corner, and then, +coolly putting his arms out on either side to the hand-rail and to the +knob of their door, he was facing his amorata, indifferent to the +world. Peter looked at the girl's coarse face. She was a factory hand, +bareheaded, and her sleeves were rolled up at her elbows. For all that, +she was neat, as a Frenchwoman invariably is. The girl caught his gaze, +and smiled. The linesman followed the direction of her eyes and glanced +friendly at Peter too. Then he saw Julie. A look of admiration came over +his face, and he put one hand comically to his heart. The girl slapped it +in a pretended fury, and Julie doubled up with laughter in her corner. +Peter bent over her. "_'Everybody's doing it, doing it, doing it,'_" he +quoted merrily. + +The tram stopped, in the square before the Hôtel de Ville. There was a +great air of festivity and bustle about as they stepped out, for the New +Year is a great time in France. Lights twinkled in the misty dark; taxis +sprinted across the open spaces; and people greeted each other gaily by +the brightly-lit shops. Somehow or another the whole thing went to +Peter's head like wine. The world was good and merry, he thought +exultantly, and he, after all, a citizen of it. He caught Julie's arm, +"Come on," he called to the others. "I know the way," And to her: "Isn't +it topping? Do you feel gloriously exhilarated? I don't know why, Julie, +but I could do anything to-night." + +She slipped her fingers down into his hand. "I'm so glad," she said. "So +could I." + +They whirled across the road, the others after them, round the little +park in the centre of the square, and down an empty side-street. Peter +had reconnoitred all approaches, he said, and this was the best way. +Begging him to give her time to breathe, Tommy came along with Donovan, +and it suddenly struck Peter that the latter seemed happy enough. He +pressed Julie's hand: "Donovan's dropped into step with Tommy very +easily," he said. "Do you mind?" + +She laughed happily and glanced back. "You're as blind as a bat, Peter, +when all's said and done," she said; "but oh, my dear, I can't play with +you to-night. There's only one person I want to walk with Peter." + +Peter all but shouted. He drew her to him, and for once Julie was +honestly alarmed. + +"Not now, you mad boy!" she exclaimed, but her eyes were enough for him. + +"All right," he laughed at her; "wait a bit. There's time yet." + +In the little entrance-hail the _maître d'hôtel_ greeted them. They were +the party of importance that night. He ushered them upstairs and opened a +door. The mademoiselles might make the toilette there. Another door: they +would eat here. + +The men deposited their caps and sticks and coats on pegs outside, and +the girls, who had had to come in uniform also, were ready as soon as +they. They went in together. Elsie gave a little whistle of surprise. + +Peter had certainly done well. Holly and mistletoe were round the walls, +and a big bunch of the latter was placed in such a way that it would hang +over the party as they sat afterwards by the fire. In the centre a silver +bowl held glorious roses, white and red, and at each girl's place was +a bunch of Parma violets and a few sprigs of flowering mimosa. Bon-bons +were spread over the white cloth. Julie's candle-shades looked perfect, +and so did the menu-cards. + +"I trust that monsieur is satisfied," said the _maître d'hôtel_, bowing +towards the man who had had the dealings with him. He got his answer, but +not from Peter, and, being a Frenchman, smiled, bowed again, and +discreetly left the room; for Elsie, turning to Peter cried: "Did you do +it--even the wattle?" and kissed him heartily. He kissed her back, and +caught hold of Julie. "Tit for tat," he said to her under his breath, +holding her arms; "do you remember our first taxi?" Then, louder: "Julie +is responsible for most of it," and he kissed her too. + +They sorted themselves out at last, and the dinner, that two of them at +least who were there that night were never to forget, began. They were +uproariously merry, and the two girls who waited came and went wreathed +in smiles. + +With the champagne came a discussion over the cork. "Give it to me" cried +Julie; "I want to wear it for luck." + +"So do I," said Elsie; "we must toss for it." + +Julie agreed, and they spun a coin solemnly. + +"It's mine," cried Elsie, and pounced for it. + +Julie snatched it away, "No, you don't," she said. "A man must put it in, +or there's no luck in it. Here you are, Trevor." + +Pennell took it, laughing, and pushed back his chair. The others stood up +and craned over to see. Elsie drew up her skirt and Trevor pushed it +down her stocking amid screams of laughter, and the rattle of chaff. + +"No higher or I faint," said Tommy. + +Trevor stood up, a little flushed. "Here," said Peter, filling his glass +with what was left in the bottle, "drink this, Pen. You sure want it." + +"It's your turn next," said Trevor, "and, by Jove, the bottle's empty! +Encore le vin," he called. + +"Good idea. It's Julie's next cork, and Graham's the man to do it." said +Jack Donovan. "And then it'll be your turn, Tommy." + +"And yours," she said, glancing at him. + +"Bet you won't dare," said Elsie. + +"Who won't?" retorted Julie. + +"Peter, of course." + +"My dear, you don't know Peter. Here you are, Peter; let's show them." + +She tossed the cork to him and stood up coolly, put up her foot on the +edge of the table, and lifted her skirt. Peter pushed the cork into its +traditional place amid cheers, but he hardly heard. His fingers had +touched her skin, and he had seen the look in her eyes. No wine could +have intoxicated him so. He raised his glass. "Toasts!" he shouted. + +They took him up and everyone rose to their feet. + +"'Here's to all those that I love; +Here's to all those that love me; +Here's to all those that love them that love those +That love those that love them that love me!'" + +he chanted. + +"Julie's turn," cried Elsie. + +"No," she said; "they know all my toasts." + +"Not all," said Donovan; "there was one you never finished--something +about Blighty." + +"Rhymes with nighty," put in Tommy coolly; "don't you remember, Julie?" + +It seemed to Peter that he and Julie stood there looking at each other +for seconds, but probably no one but Tommy noticed. "Take it as read," +cried Peter boisterously, and emptied his glass. His example was +infectious, and they all followed suit, but Donovan remarked across the +table to him: + +"You spoiled a humorous situation, old dear." + +Dinner over, they pushed the table against the wall, and pulled chairs +round the fire. Dessert, crackers, chocolates and cigarettes were piled +on a small table, and the famous liqueur came in with the coffee. They +filled the little glasses. "This is a great occasion," said Donovan; +"let's celebrate it properly. Julie, give us a dance first." + +She sprang up at once. "Right-o," she said. "Clear the table." + +They pushed everything to one side, and Peter held out his hand. Just +touching his fingers, she leaped up, and next minute circled there in a +whirl of skirts. A piano stood in a corner of the room, and Elsie ran to +it. Looking over her shoulder, she caught the pace, and the notes rang +out merrily. + +Julie was the very spirit of devilment and fun. So light that she seemed +hardly to touch the table, she danced as if born to it. It was such an +incarnation of grace and music that a little silence fell on them all. To +Peter she appeared to dance to him. He could not take his eyes off her; +he cared nothing what others thought or saw. There was a mist before him +and thunder in his ears. He saw only her flushed, childlike face and +sparkling brown eyes, and a wave of her loosened hair that slipped across +them.... + +The music ceased. Panting for breath, she leaped down amid a chorus of +"Bravo's!" and held out her hand for the liqueur-glass. Peter put it in +her fingers, and he was trembling more than she, and spilt a little of +it. "Well, here's the best," she cried, and raised the glass. Then, with +a gay laugh, she put her moistened fingers to his mouth and he kissed +them, the spirit on his lips. + +And now Elsie must show herself off. They sat down to watch her, and a +more insidious feeling crept over Peter as he did so. The girl bent her +body this way and that; arched herself over and looked at them between +her feet; twisted herself awry and made faces at them. They laughed, but +there was a new note in the laughter. An intense look had come into +Pennell's face, and Donovan was lolling back, his head on one side, +smiling evilly. + +She finished and straightened herself, and they had more of the liqueur. +Then Tommy, as usual, remembered herself. "Girls," she said, "we must go. +It's fearfully late." + +Donovan sat up. "What about taxis?" he demanded. + +Peter went to the door. "They'll fetch them," he said. "I've made an +arrangement." + +He went a little unsteadily to find the _maître d'hôtel_, and a boy was +despatched, while he settled the bill. They were tramping down the stairs +as he came out of the little office. Julie leading and laughing +uproariously at some joke. Donovan and Tommy were the steadiest, and they +came down together. It seemed to Peter that it was natural for them to do +so. + +Pennell and Elsie got into one taxi. She leaned out of the window and +waved her hand. "We're the luckiest," she called; "we've the farthest to +go. Good-night everyone, and thanks ever so much." + +A second taxi came up. "Jump in, Julie," said Tommy. + +She got in, and Peter put his hand on the door. "I've settled everything, +Donovan," he said. "See you to-morrow. Good-night, Tommy." + +"Good-night," she called back, and he got in. And next minute he was +alone with Julie. + +In the closed and darkened taxi he put his arm round her and drew her to +him. "Oh, my darling," he murmured. "Julie, do you love me as I love you? +I can't live without you." He covered her face with hot kisses, and she +kissed him back. + +"Julie," he said at length, breathlessly, "listen. My leave's come. I +knew this morning. Couldn't you possibly be in England when I am? I saw +you first on the boat coming over--remember? And you're due again." + +"When do you go?" she queried. + +"Fourteenth," he answered. + +She considered. "I couldn't get off by then," she said, "but I might the +twenty-first or thereabouts. I'm due, as you say, and I think it could be +managed." + +"Would you?" he demanded, and hung on her words. + +She turned her face up to him, and even in the dark he could see her +glowing eyes. "It would be heaven, Peter," she whispered. + +He kissed her passionately. + +"I could meet you in town easily," he said. + +"Not the leave-boat train," she replied; "it's not safe. Anyone might be +there. But I'll run down for a day or two to some friends in Sussex, and +then come up to visit more in town. I know very few people, of course, +and all my relations are in South Africa. No one would know to whom I +went, and if I didn't go to them, Peter, why nobody would know either." + +"Splendid!" he answered, the blood pounding in his temples. "I'll make +all the arrangements. Shall I take a flat, or shall we go to an hotel? An +hotel's more fun, perhaps, and we can have a suite." + +She leaned over against him and caught his hand to her breast, with a +little intake of breath. + +"I'll leave it all to you, my darling," she whispered. + +The taxi swung into the clearing before the hospital. "Peter," said +Julie, "Tommy's so sharp; I believe she'll suspect something." + +"I don't care a damn for anyone!" said Peter fiercely; "let her. I only +want you." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Peter secured his leave for Monday the 21st from Boulogne, which +necessitated his leaving Le Havre at least twenty-four hours before that +day. There were two ways of travelling--across country in a troop-train, +or by French expresses via Paris. He had heard so much of the latter plan +that he determined to try it. It had appeared to belong to the reputation +of the Church. + +His movement order was simply from the one port to the other, and was +probably good enough either way round with French officials; but there +was a paper attached to it indicating that the personnel in question +would report at such a time to the R.T.O. at such a station, and the time +and the station spelt troop-train unmistakably. Now, the troop-train +set out on its devious journey an hour later than the Paris express from +the same station, and the hour of the Paris express corresponded with the +time that all decent officers go to dinner. Peter therefore removed the +first paper, folded it up thoughtfully, and put it in his pocket. He then +reported to the R.T.O. a quarter of an hour before the Paris train +started, and found, as he expected, a N.C.O. in sole charge. The man took +his paper and read it. He turned it over; there was no indication of +route anywhere. "Which train are you going by, sir?" he asked. + +"Paris mail," said Peter coolly. "Will you please put my stuff in a +first?" + +"Certainly, sir," said the man, endorsed the order to that effect, and +shouldered a suit-case. Peter followed him. He was given a first to +himself, and the Deputy R.T.O. saw the French inspector and showed him +the paper. Peter strolled off and collected a bottle of wine, some +sandwiches, and some newspapers; then he made himself comfortable. +The train left punctually. Peter lay back in his corner and watched the +country slip by contentedly. He had grown up, had this young man. + +He arrived in Paris with the dawn of Sunday morning, and looked out +cautiously. There was no English official visible. However, his papers +were entirely correct, and he climbed up the stairs and wandered along a +corridor in which hands and letters from time to time indicated the lair +of the R.T.O. Arriving, he found another officer waiting, but no R.T.O. +The other was "bored stiff," he said; he had sat there an hour, but had +seen no sign of the Transport Officer. Peter smiled, and replied that he +had no intention whatever of waiting; he only wanted to know the times of +the Boulogne trains. These he discovered by the aid of a railway guide on +the table, and selected the midnight train, which would land him in +Boulogne in time for the first leave-boat, if the train were punctual and +the leave-boat not too early. In any case, he could take the second, +which would only mean Victoria a few hours later that same day. And these +details settled, he left his luggage in a corner and strolled off into +the city. + +A big city, seen for the first time by oneself alone when one does not +know a soul in it, may be intensely boring or intensely interesting. It +depends on oneself. Peter was in the mood to be interested. He was +introspective. It pleased him to watch the early morning stir; to see the +women come out in shawls and slipshod slippers and swill down their bit +of pavement; to see sleepy shopkeepers take down their shutters and +street-vendors set up their stalls; to try to gauge the thoughts and +doings of the place from the shop-windows and the advertisements. His +first need was a wash and a shave, and he got both at a little barber's +in which monsieur attended to him, while madame, in considerable +_négligée_, made her toilette before the next glass. His second was +breakfast, and he got it, _à l'anglaise_, with an omelette and jam, in a +just-stirring hotel; and then, set up, he strolled off for the centre of +things. Many Masses were in progress at the Madeleine, and he heard one +or two with a curious contentment, but they had no lesson for him, +probably because of the foreign element in the atmosphere, and he did +not pray. Still, he sat, chiefly, and watched, until he felt how entirely +he was a stranger here, and went out into the sun. + +He made his way to the river, and lingered there long. The great +cathedral, with its bare January trees silhouetted to the last twig +against the clear sky, its massive buttresses, and its cluster of smaller +buildings, held his imagination. He went in, but they were beginning to +sing Mass, and he soon came out. He crossed to the farther bank and found +a seat and lit a pipe. Sitting there, his imagination awoke. He conceived +the pageant of faith that had raised those walls. Kings and lords and +knights, all the glitter and gold of the Middle Ages, had come there--and +gone; Bishops and Archbishops, and even Popes, had had their day of +splendour there--and gone; the humbler sort, in the peasant dress of +the period, speaking quaint tongues, had brought their sorrows there and +their joys--and gone; yet it seemed to him that they had not so surely +gone. The great have their individual day and disappear, but the poor, in +their corporate indistinguishableness remain. The multitude, petty in +their trivial wants and griefs, find no historian and leave no monument. +Yet, ultimately, it was because of the Christian faith in the compassion +of God for such that Notre-Dame lifted her towers to the sky. The stage +for the mighty doings of Kings, it was the home of the people. As he had +seen them just now, creeping about the aisles, lighting little tapers, +crouched in a corner, so had they always been. Kings and Bishops figured +for a moment in pomp before the altar, and then monuments must be erected +to their memory. But it was not so with the poor. Peter, in a glow of +warmth, considered that he was in truth one of them. And Jesus had +had compassion on the multitude, he remembered. The text recalled him, +and he frowned to himself. + +He knocked out his pipe, and set out leisurely to find luncheon. The +famous book-boxes held him, and he bought a print or two. In a restaurant +near the Châtelet he got _déjeuner_, and then, remembering Julie, bought +and wrote a picture-postcard, and took a taxi for the Bois. He was +driven about for an hour or more, and watched the people lured out by the +sun, watched the troops of all the armies, watched an aeroplane swing +high over the trees and soar off towards Versailles. He discharged his +car at the Arc de Triomphe, and set about deciphering the carven +pictures. Then, he walked up the great Avenue, made his way to the +Place de la République, wandered through the gardens of the Louvre, and, +as dusk fell, found himself in the Avenue de l'Opéra. It was very gay. He +had a bock at a little marble table, and courteously declined the +invitations of a lady of considerable age painted to look young. He at +first simply refused, and finally cursed into silence, a weedy, flash +youth who offered to show him the sights of the city in an apparently +ascending scale till he reached the final lure of a _cancan_, and he +dined greatly at a palace of a restaurant. Then, tired, he did not know +what to do. + +A girl passing, smiled at him, and he smiled back. She came and sat down. +He looked bored, she told him, which was a thing one should not be in +Paris, and she offered to assist him to get rid of the plague. + +"What do you suggest?" he demanded. + +She shrugged her shoulders--anything that he pleased. + +"But I don't know what I want," he objected. + +"Ah, well, I have a flat near," she said--"a charming flat. We need not +be bored there." + +Peter demurred. He had to catch the midnight train. She made a little +gesture; there was plenty of time. + +He regarded her attentively. "See, mademoiselle," he said, "I do not want +that. But I am alone and I want company. Will you not stroll about Paris +with me for an hour or two, and talk?" + +She smiled. Monsieur was unreasonable. She had her time to consider; she +could not waste it. + +Peter took his case from his pocket and selected a note, folded it, and +handed it to her, without a word. She slipped it into her bag. "Give me a +cigarette," she said. "Let us have one little glass here, and then we +will go on to an 'otel I know, and hear the band and see the dresses, and +talk--is it not so?" + +He could not have found a better companion. In the great lounge, later +on, leaning back by his side, she chatted shrewdly and with merriment. +She described dresses and laughed at his ignorance. She acclaimed certain +pieces, and showed a real knowledge of music. She told him of life in +Paris when the Hun had all but knocked at the gates, of the gaiety of +relief, of things big and little, of the flowers in the Bois in the +spring. He said little, but enjoyed himself. Much later she went with him +to the station, and they stood outside to say good-bye. + +"Well, little girl," he said, "you have given me a good evening, and I am +very grateful. But I do not even know your name. Tell it me, that I may +remember." + +"Mariette," she said. "And will monsieur not take my card? He may be in +Paris again. He is très agréable; I should like much to content him. One +meets many, but there are few one would care to see again." + +Peter smiled sadly. For the first time a wistful note had crept into her +voice. He thought of others like her that he knew, and he spoke very +tenderly. "No, Mariette," he said. "If I came back I might spoil a +memory. Good-bye. God bless you!" and he held out his hand. She hesitated +a second. Then she turned back to the taxi. + +"Where would you like to go?" he demanded. + +She leaned out and glanced up at the clock. "L'Avenue de l'Opéra," she +said, "s'il vous plait." + +The man thrust in the clutch with his foot, and Mariette was lost to +Peter for ever in the multitude. + +In Boulogne he heard that he was late for the first boat, but caught the +second easily. Remembering Donovan's advice, he got his ticket for the +Pullman at once, and was soon rolling luxuriously to town. The station +was bustling as it had done what seemed to him an age before, but he +stepped out with the feeling that he was no longer a fresher in the +world's or any other university. Declining assistance, he walked over to +the Grosvenor and engaged a room, dined, and then strolled out into +Victoria Street. + +It was all so familiar and it was all so different. He stood aloof and +looked at himself, and played with the thought. It was incredible that he +was the Peter Graham of less than a year before, and that he walked where +he had walked a score of times. He went up Whitehall, and across the +Square, and hesitated whether or not he should take the Strand. Deciding +against it, he made his way to Piccadilly Circus and chose a music-hall +that advertised a world-famous comedian. He heard him and came out, still +laughing to himself, and then he walked down Piccadilly to Hyde Park +Corner, and stood for a minute looking up Park Lane. Hilda ought to come +down, he said to himself amusedly. Then, marvelling that he could be +amused at all at the thought, he turned off for his hotel. + +It is nothing to write down, but to Peter it was very much. Everything +was old, but everything was new to him. At his hotel he smoked a +cigarette in the lounge just to watch the men and women who came and +went, and then he declined the lift and ascended the big staircase to his +room. As he went, it struck him why it was that he felt so much wiser +than he had been; that he looked on London from the inside, whereas he +had used to look from the outside only; that he looked with a charity of +which he had never dreamed, and that he was amazingly content. And as he +got into bed he thought that when next he slept in town he would not be +alone. He would have crossed Tommy's Rubicon. + +Next morning he went down into the country to relations who did not +interest him at all; but he walked and rode and enjoyed the English +countryside with zest. He went to the little country church on the Sunday +twice, to Matins and Evensong, and he came home and read that chapter of +Mr. Wells' book in which Mr. Britling expounds the domestication of God. +And he had some fierce moments in which he thought of Louise, and of +Lucienne's sister, and of Mariette, and of Pennell, and, last of all, of +Jenks, and asked himself of what use a domesticated God could be to any +of them. And then on the Thursday he came up to meet Julie. + +It thrilled him that she was in England somewhere and preparing to come +to him. His pulses beat so as he thought of it that every other +consideration was temporarily driven from his mind; but presently he +caught himself thinking what ought to be done, and of what she would be +like. He turned it over in his mind. He had known her in France, +in uniform, when he was not sure of her; but now, what would she be like? +He could not conceive, and he banished the idea. It would be more +splendid when it occurred if he had made no imaginary construction of it. + +His station was King's Cross, and he took a taxi to a big central hotel +in the neighbourhood of Regent Street. And as he passed its doors they +closed irrevocably on his past. + +The girl at the bureau looked up and smiled. "Good-morning," she said. +"What can I do for you? We are very full." + +"Good-morning," he replied. "I expect you are, but my wife is coming up +to town this afternoon, and we have only a few days together. We want to +be as central as possible. Have you a small suite over the week-end?" + +"I don't know," she said, and pulled the big book toward her. She +ran a finger down the page. "Four-twenty," she said--"double bedroom, +sitting-room, and bathroom, how would that do?" + +"It sounds capital," said Peter. "May I go and see it?" + +She turned in her seat, reached for a key, and touched a button. A man +appeared, soundlessly on the thick, rich carpet. "Show this officer +four-twenty, will you?" she said, and turned to someone else. What means +so much to some of us is everyday business to others. + +Peter followed across the hall and into a lift. They went up high, got +out in a corridor, took a turn to the right, and stopped before a door +numbered 420. The man opened it. Peter was led into a little hall, with +two doors leading from it. The first room was the sitting-room. It was +charmingly furnished and very cosy, a couple of good prints on the +walls, wide fireplace, a tall standard lamp, some delightfully easy +chairs--all this he took in at a glance. He walked to the window and +looked out. Far below was the great thoroughfare, and beyond a wilderness +of roofs and spires. He stood and gazed at it. London seemed a different +place up there. He felt remote, and looked again into the street. Its +business rolled on indifferent to him, and unaware. He glanced back into +the snug pretty little room. How easy it all was, how secure! "This is +excellent," he said, "Show me the bedroom." + +"This way, sir," said, the man. + +The bedroom was large and airy. A pretty light paper covered the walls, +and two beds stood against one of them, side by side. The sun shone in at +the big double windows and fell on the white paint of the woodwork, the +plate-glass tops of the toilet-tables, and the thick cream-coloured +carpet. A door was open on his right. He walked across, and looked in +there too. A tiled bathroom, he saw it was, the clean towels on the +highly polished brass rail heated by steam, the cork-mat against the +wall, the shower, douche, and spray all complete, even the big cake of +delicious-looking soap on its sliding rack across the bath. He looked as +a man in a fairy-story might look. It was as if an enchanted palace, with +the princess just round the corner, had been offered him. Smiling at the +conceit, he turned to the man. "I didn't notice the telephone," he said; +"I suppose it is installed?" + +"In each room, sir," said the man. + +"That will do," said Peter. "It will suit me admirably. Have my baggage +sent up, will you, and say that I engage the suite. I will be down +presently." + +"Yes, sir," said the man, and departed. + +Peter went back to the sitting-room, and threw himself into a chair. Then +he had an idea, got up, went to the telephone, ordered a bottle of whisky +to be sent up, and a siphon, and went back to his seat. Presently he was +pouring himself out a drink and smoking a cigarette on his own +(temporary) hearth-rug. The little incident increased his satisfaction. +He was reassuring himself. Here he was really safe and remote and master, +with a thousand servants and a huge palace at his beck and call, and all +for a few pounds! It was absurd, but he thought to himself that he was +feeling civilised for the first time, perhaps. + +He looked round, and considered Julie. What would she want? Flowers to +begin with, heaps of them; she liked violets for one thing, and by hook +or by crook he would get a little wattle or mimosa to remind her of +Africa. Then chocolates and cigarettes, both must never be lacking, and +a few books--no, not books, magazines; and he would have some wine sent +up. What else? Biscuits; after the theatre they might be jolly. Ah, the +theatre! he must book seats. Well, a box would be better; they did not +want to run too great a risk of being seen. Donovan was quite possibly in +town, to say nothing of--older friends. Possibly, considering the run on +the theatres, he had better book up fairly completely for the days they +had together. But what would she like? Julie would never want to go if +she did not spontaneously fancy a play. It was a portentous question, and +he considered it long. Finally he decided on half-and-half measures, +leaving some time free.... Time! how did it go? By Jove! he ought to make +a move. Luncheon first; his last meal alone for some time; then order the +things; and Victoria at 5.30. He poured himself another short drink and +went out. + +He lunched in a big public grill-room, and chatted with a naval officer +at his table who was engaged in mine-sweeping with a steam-tramp. The +latter was not vastly enthusiastic over things, but was chiefly depressed +because he had to report at a naval base that night, and his short London +leave was all but run out. + +"Tell you what," he said, "I've seen a good many cities one way and +another, from San Francisco to Singapore, and I know Paris and Brussels +and Berlin, but you can take my word for it, there's no better place for +ten days' leave than this same old blessed London. You can have some +spree out East if you want it, but you can get much the same, if not +better, here. If a fellow wants a bit of a skirt, he can get as good a +pick in London as anywhere. If you want a good show, there isn't another +spot in the universe that can beat it, whatever it is you feel like. If +you want to slip out of sight for a bit, give me a big hotel like this +in London. They don't damn-well worry about identification papers much +here--too little, p'raps, these days. Did you hear of those German +submarine officers who lived in an hotel in Southampton?" + +Peter had; there were few people who hadn't, seeing that the same +officers lived in most of the coast towns in England that year; but it is +a pity to damp enthusiasm. He said he had heard a little. + +"Walked in and out cool as you please. When they were drowned and picked +up at sea, they had bills and theatre tickets in their pockets, and a +letter acknowledging the booking of rooms for the next week! Fact. Had it +from the fellow who got 'em. And I ask you, what is there to prevent +it? You come here: 'Will you write your name and regiment, please.' You +write the damned thing--any old thing, in fact--and what happens? +Nothing. They don't refer to them. In France the lists go to a central +bureau every day, but here--Lord bless you, the Kaiser himself might put +up anywhere if he shaved his moustache!" + +Peter heard him, well content. He offered a cigarette, feeling warmly +disposed towards the world at large. The naval officer took it. "Thanks," +he said. "You in town for long?" + +"No," said Peter--"a week end. I've only just happened. What's worth +seeing?" + +"First and last all the way, _Carminetta_. It's a dream. Wonderful. By +Gad, I don't know how that girl does it! Then I'd try _Zigzag_--oh! and +go to _You Never Know, You Know_, at the Cri. Absolutely toppin'. A +perfect scream all through. The thing at Daly's' good too; but all the +shows are good, though, I reckon. Lumme, you wouldn't think the war was +on, 'cept they all touch it a bit! _The Better 'Ole_ I like, but you +mightn't, knowing the real thing. But don't miss _Carminetta_ if you have +to stand all day for a seat in the gods. Well, I must be going. Damned +rough luck, but no help for it. Let's have a last spot, eh?" + +Peter agreed, and the drinks were ordered. "Chin-chin," said his +acquaintance. "And here's to old London town, and the Good Lord let me +see it again. It's less than even chances," he added reflectively. + +"Here's luck," said Peter; then, for he couldn't help it: "It's you +chaps, by God, that are winning this war!" + +"Oh, I don't know," said the other, rising. "We get more leave than you +fellows, and I'd sooner be on my tramp than in the trenches. The sea's +good and clean to die in, anyway. Cheerio." + +Peter followed him out in a few minutes, and set about his shopping. He +found a florist's in Regent Street and bought lavishly. The girl smiled +at him, and suggested this and that. "Having a dinner somewhere +to-night?" she queried. "But I have no violets." + +"Got my girl comin' up," said Peter expansively; "that's why there must +be violets. See if you can get me some and send them over, will you?" he +asked, naming his hotel. She promised to do her best, and he departed. + +He went into a chocolate shop. "Got some really decent chocolates?" he +demanded. + +The girl smiled and dived under the counter. "These are the best," she +said, holding out a shovelful for Peter to taste. He tried one. "They'll +do," he said. "Give me a couple of pounds, in a pretty box if you've got +one." + +"Two pounds!" she exclaimed. "What are you thinking of? We can only sell +a quarter." + +"Only a quarter!" said Peter. "That's no good. Come on, make up the two +pounds." + +"If my boss comes in or finds out I'll be fired," said the girl; "can't +be done." + +"Well, that doesn't matter," said Peter innocently, "You'll easily get a +job--something better and easier, I expect." + +"It's easy enough, perhaps," said the girl, "but you never can tell. +_And_ it's dangerous, _and_ uncertain." + +Peter stared at her. When he bought chocolates as a parson, he never had +talks like this. He wondered if London had changed since he knew it. Then +he played up: "You're pretty enough to knock that last out, anyway?" he +said. + +"Am I?" she demanded. "Do you mean you'd like to keep me?" + +"I've got one week-end left of leave," said Peter. "What about the +chocolates?" + +"Poor boy!" she said. "Well, I'll risk it." And she made up the two +pounds. + +He wandered into a tobacconist's, and bought cigarettes which Julie's +soul loved, and then he made for a theatre booking-office. + +Outside and his business done, he looked at his watch, and found he had a +bit of time to spare. He walked down Shaftesbury Avenue, and thought he +would get himself spruced up at a hairdresser's. He saw a little place +with a foreigner at the door, and he went in. It was a tiny room with +three seats all empty. The man seated him in one and began. + +Peter discovered that his hair needed this and that, and being in a good +temper and an idle mood acquiesced. Presently a girl came in. Peter smelt +her enter, and then saw her in the glass. She was short and dark and +foreign, too, and she wore a blouse that appeared to have remarkably +little beneath it, and to be about to slip off her shoulders. She came +forward and stood between him and the glass, smiling. "Wouldn't you like +your nails manicured?" she demanded. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Peter; "I had not meant to ..." and was lost. + +"Second thoughts are best," she said; "but let me look at your hands. +Oh, I should think you did need it! Whatever will your girl say to you +to-night if you have hands like this?" + +Peter, humiliated, looked at his hands. They did not appear to him to +differ much from the hands Julie and others had seen without visible +consternation before, but he had no time to say so. The young lady was +now seated by his side with a basin of hot water, and was dabbling his +hand in it. "Nice? Not too hot?" she inquired brightly. + +Peter watched her as she bent over her work and kept up a running fire of +talk. He gathered that many officers habitually were manicured by her, +many of them in their own rooms. It was lucky for him that she was not +out. Possibly he would like to make an appointment; she could come early +or late. No? Then she thought his own manicure-set must be a poor one, +judging from these hands, and perhaps she could sell him another. No? +Well, a little cream. Not to-day? He would look in to-morrow? He +hadn't a chance? She would tell him what: where was he staying? (Peter, +for the fun of it, told her he had a private suite in the hotel.) Well, +that was splendid. She would call in with a new set at any time, before +breakfast, after the theatre, as he pleased; bring the cream and do his +hands once with it to show him how. How would that suit him? + +Peter was not required to say, for at that minute the shop-bell rang and +a priest came in, a little old man, tired-looking, in a black cassock. He +was apparently known, though he seemed to take no notice of anyone. The +man was all civility, but put on an expression meant to indicate +amusement, to Peter, behind the clerical back. The girl put one of +Peter's fingers on her own lips by way of directing caution, and +continued more or less in silence. The room became all but silent save +for the sound of scissors and the noise of the traffic outside, and Peter +reflected again on many things. When he had had his hair cut previously, +for instance, had people made faces behind his back? Had young ladies +ceased from tempting offers that seemed to include more than manicuring? + +He got up to pay. "Well," she demanded, _sotto voce_, "what of the +arrangement? She could do him easily at any..." + +He cut her short. No; it was really impossible. His wife was coming up +that afternoon. It was plain that she now regarded it as impossible also. +He paid an enormous sum wonderingly, and departed. + +Outside it struck him that he had forgotten one thing. He walked briskly +to the hotel, and went up to his rooms. In the sitting-room was the big +bunch of flowers and a maid unwrapping it. She turned and smiled at him. +"These have just come for you, sir," she said. "Shall I arrange them for +you?" + +"No, thank you," said Peter. "I'd rather do them myself. I love arranging +flowers, and I know just what my wife likes. I expect you'd do them +better, but I'll have a shot, if you don't mind. Would you fill the +glasses and get me a few more? We haven't enough here." + +"Certainly, sir. There was a gentleman here once who did flowers +beautifully, he did. But most likes us to do it for them." + +She departed for the glasses. Peter saw that the florist had secured his +violets, and took them first and filled a bowl. Then he walked into the +bedroom and contemplated for a minute. Then he put the violets critically +on the little table by the bed nearest the window, and stood back to see +the result. Finding it good, he departed. When next he came in, it was to +place a great bunch of roses on the mantelshelf, and a few sprays of the +soft yellow and green mimosa on the dressing-table. For the sitting-room +he had carnations and delphiniums, and he placed a high towering cluster +of the latter on the writing-table, and a vase of the former on the +mantelpiece. A few roses, left over, went on the small table that carried +the reading-lamp, and he and the chambermaid surveyed the results. + +"Lovely, I do think," she said; "any lady would love them. I likes +flowers myself, I do. I come from the country, sir, where there's a many, +and the wild flowers that Jack and I liked best of all. Specially +primroses, sir." There was a sound in her voice as she turned away, and +Peter heard it. + +"Jack?" he queried softly. + +"'E's been missing since last July, sir," she said, stopping by the door. + +"Has he?" said Peter. "Well, you must not give up hope, you know; he may +be a prisoner." + +She shook her head. "He's dead," she said, with an air of finality. "I +oughtn't to have spoke a word, but them flowers reminded me. I'm glad as +how I have to do these rooms, sir. Most of them don't bother with +flowers. Is there anything else you might be wanting, sir?" + +"Light fires in both the grates, please," he said. "I'm so sorry about +Jack," he added. + +She gave him a look, and passed out. + +Peter wandered about touching this and that. Suddenly he remembered the +magazines. He ran out and caught a lift about to descend, and was once +more in the street. Near Leicester Square was a big foreign shop, and he +entered it, and gathered of all kinds. As he went to pay, he saw _La Vie +Parisienne_, and added that also to the bundle; Julie used to say she +loved it. Back in the hotel, he sent them to his room, and glanced at his +watch. He had time for tea. He went out into the lounge and ordered it, +sitting back under the palms. It came, and he was in the act of pouring +out a cup when he saw Donovan. + +Donovan was with a girl, but so were most men; Peter could not be sure +of her. It was only a glimpse he had, for the two had finished and were +passing out. Donovan stood back to let her first through the great +swing-doors, and then, pulling on his gloves, followed. They both +disappeared. + +Peter sat on, in a tumult. He had been too busy all day to reflect much, +but now just what he was about to do began to overwhelm him. If Donovan +met him with Julie? Well, they could pretend they had just met, they +could even part, and meet again. Could they? Would Donovan be deceived +for a minute? It seemed to him impossible. And he might be staying there. +Suppose he met someone else. Langton? Sir Robert Doyle? His late Vicar? +Hilda? Mr. Lessing? And Julie would have acquaintances too. He shook +himself mentally, and lit a cigarette. Well, suppose they did; he was +finished with them. Finished? Then, what lay ahead--what, after this, if +he were discovered? And if he were not discovered? God knew.... + +His mind took a new train of thought: he was now just such a one as +Donovan. Or as Pennell. As Langton? He wasn't sure; no, he thought not; +Langton kept straight because he had a wife and kids. He had a centre. +Donovan and Pennell had not, apparently. Well, he, Peter Graham, would +have a centre; he would marry Julie. It would be heavenly. They had not +spoken of it, of course, that night of the dinner, but surely Julie +would. There could be no doubt after the week-end.... "I shan't marry or +be given in marriage," she had said. It was like her to speak so, but +of course she didn't mean it. No, he would marry; and then? + +He blew out smoke. The Colonies, South Africa; he would get a job +schoolmastering? He hated the idea; it didn't interest him. A farm? He +knew nothing about it--besides, one wanted capital. What would he do? +What did he want to do? _Want_--that was it; how did he want to spend his +life? Well, he wanted Julie; everything else would fit round her, +everything else would be secondary beside her. Of course. And as he got +old it would still be the same, though he could not imagine either of +them old. But still, when they did get old, his work would seem more +important, and what was it to be? Probably it would have to be +schoolmastering. Teaching Latin to little boys--History, Geography, +Mathematics. He smiled ruefully; even factors worried him. They would +hardly want Latin and Greek much in the Colonies, either. Perhaps at +home; but would Julie stop at home? What _would_ Julie do? He must +ask her, sometime before Monday. Not that night--no, not _that_ night.... + +He ground his cigarette into his cup, and pushed his hands into his +pockets, his feet out before him. That night! He saw the sitting-room +upstairs; they would go there first. Then he would suggest a dinner to +her, in Soho; he knew a place that Pennell had told him of, Bohemian, but +one could take anyone--at least, take Julie. It would be jolly watching +the people, and watching Julie. He saw her, mentally, opposite him, and +her eyes sparkling and alluring. And afterwards, warmed and fed--why, +back to the hotel, to the sitting-room, by the fire. They would have a +little supper, and then.... + +He pictured the bedroom. He would let Julie go first. He remembered +reading in a novel how some newly married wife said to the fellow: +"You'll come up in half an hour or so, won't you, dear?" He could all but +see the words in print. And so, in half an hour or so, he would go in, +and Julie would be in bed, by the violets, and he--he would know what men +talked about, sometimes, in the anteroom.... He recalled a red-faced, +coarse Colonel: "No man's a man till he's been all the way, I say...." + +And he was a chaplain, a priest. Was he? The past months spun before him, +his sermons, his talks to the wounded at the hospital, the things he had +seen, the stories he had heard. He sighed. It was all a dream, a sham. +There was no reality in it all. Where and what was Christ? An ideal, yes, +but no more than an ideal, and unrealisable--a vision of the beautiful. +He thought he had seen that once, but not now. The beautiful! Ah! What +place had His Beauty in Travalini's, in the shattered railway-carriage, +in the dinner at the Grand in Havre with Julie? + +Julie. He dwelt on her, eyes, hair, face, skin, and lithe figure. He felt +her kisses again on his lips, those last burning kisses of New Year's +Night, and they were all to be his, as never before.... Julie. What, +then, was she? She was his bride, his wife, coming to him consecrate--not +by any State convention, not by any ceremony of man-made religion, but by +the pure passion of human love, virginal, clean. It was human passion, +perhaps, but where was higher love or greater sacrifice? Was this not +worthy of all his careful preparation, worthy of the one centre of his +being? Donovan, indeed! He wished he had stopped and told him the whole +story, and that he expected Julie that night. + +He jumped up, and walked out in the steps of Donovan, but with never +another thought of him. A boy in uniform questioned him: "Taxi, sir?" He +nodded, and the commissionaire pushed back the great swing-door. He stood +on the steps, and watched the passers-by, and the lights all shaded as +they were, that began to usher in a night of mystery. His taxi rolled up, +and the man held the door open. "Victoria!" cried Peter, and to himself, +as he sank back on the seat, "Julie!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"Julie!" exclaimed Peter, "I should hardly have known you; you do look +topping!" + +"Glad rags make all that difference, old boy? Well, I am glad you did +know me, anyhow. How are you? Had long to wait?" + +"Only ten minutes or so, and I'm very fit, and just dying for you, +Julie." + +She smiled up at him and blushed a little. "Are you, Peter? It's much the +same here, my dear. But don't you think we had better get a move on, and +not stop here talking all night?" + +Peter laughed excitedly. "Rather," he said. "But I'm so excited at seeing +you that I hardly know if I'm on my head or my heels. What about your +luggage? What have you? Have you any idea where it is? There's a taxi +waiting." + +"I haven't much: a big suit-case, most important because it holds an +evening dress--it's marked with my initials; a small leather trunk, +borrowed, with a big star on it; and my dressing-case, which is here. And +I _think_ they're behind, but I wouldn't swear, because we've seemed to +turn round three times in the course of the journey, but it may have +been four!" + +Peter chuckled. She was just the old Julie, but yet with a touch of +something more shining in her eyes, and underlying even the simplest +words. + +"Well, you stand aside just a moment and I'll go and see," he said, and +he hurried off in the crowd. + +Julie stood waiting patiently by a lamp-stand while the world bustled +about her. She wore a little hat with a gay pheasant's wing in it, a dark +green travelling dress and neat brown shoes, and brown silk stockings. +Most people looked at her as they passed, including several officers, but +there was a different look in her brown eyes from that usually there, and +they all passed on unhesitatingly. + +It seemed to her a good while before Peter came up again, in his wake a +railway Amazon with the trunk on her shoulder and the suit-case in her +hand. "Sorry to keep you, dear," he said. "But there was a huge crush and +next to no porters, if these _are_ porters. It feels rotten to have a +woman carrying one's luggage, but I suppose it can't be helped. Come on. +Aren't you tired? Don't you want tea?" + +"I am a little," she said "And I do a bit. Where are we going to get it? +Do they sell teas in London, Peter, or have you taken a leaf out of my +book?" + +They laughed at the reminiscence. "Julie," said Peter, "this is my +outfit, and you shall see what you think of it. Give me your ticket, will +you? I want to see you through myself." + +She handed him a little purse without a word, and they set off together. +She was indulging in the feeling of surrender as if it were not a victory +she had won, and he was glowing with the sense of acquisition, as if he +had really acquired something. + +Julie got into the taxi while Peter settled the luggage, gave directions, +and paid the Amazon. Then he climbed in and pulled the door to, and they +slipped out of the crowded station-yard into the roar of London. Julie +put her hand in his. "Peter," she said, "do tell me where we're going. +I'm dying to know. What arrangements have you made? Is it safe?" + +He leaned over her, his eyes sparkling. "A kiss, first, Julie: no one +will see and it doesn't matter a damn if they do. That's the best of +London. My dear, I can hardly believe we're both here at last, and that +I've really got you." Their lips met. + +Julie flung herself back with a laugh. "Oh, Peter," she said, "I shall +never forget that first taxi. If you could have seen your own face! +Really it was too comic, but I must say you've changed since then." + +"I was a fool and a beast," he said, more gravely; "I'm only just +beginning to realise how much of a fool. But don't rub it in, Julie, or +not just now. I'm starting to live at last, and I don't want to be +reminded of the past." + +She pressed his hand and looked out of window. "Where are we, Peter? +Whitehall? Where are we off to?" + +"I've got the snuggest little suite in all London, darling," he said, +"with a fairy palace at our beck and call. I've been revelling in it all +day--not exactly in it, you know, but in the thought of it. I've been too +busy shopping to be in much; and Julie, I hope you notice my hands: I've +had a special manicure in preparation for you. And the girl is coming +round to-morrow before breakfast to do me again--or at least she wanted +to." + +"What are you talking about? Peter, what have you been doing to-day?" She +sighed a mock sigh. "Really, you're getting beyond me; it's rather +trying." + +Peter launched out into the story to fill up time. He really did not want +to speak of the rooms, that they might give her the greater surprise. So +he kept going till the taxi stopped before the hotel. He jumped out gaily +as the commissionaire opened the door. + +"Come on," he said, "as quick as ever you can." Then, to the man: "Have +these sent up to No. 420, will you, please?" And he took Julie's arm. + +They went in at the great door, and crossed the wide entrance-hall. +Everyone glanced at Julie, Peter noted proudly, even the girls behind the +sweet-counter, and the people waiting about as always. Julie held her +head high and walked more sedately than usual. She _was_ a bit different, +thought Peter, but even nicer. He glowed at the thought. + +He led her to the lift and gave his landing number. They walked down the +corridor in silence and in at their door. Peter opened the door on the +left and stood back. Julie went in. He followed and shut the door behind +them. + +The maid had lit a fire, which blazed merrily. Julie took it all in--the +flowers, the pile of magazines, even the open box of cigarettes, and she +turned enthusiastically to him and flung her arms round his neck, kissing +him again and again. "Oh, Peter darling," she cried, "I can't tell you +how I love you! I could hardly sit still in the railway carriage, and the +train seemed worse than a French one. But now I have you at last, and all +to myself. Oh, Peter, my darling Peter!" + +There came a knock at the door. Julie disengaged her arms from his neck, +but slipped her hand in his, and he said, "Come in." + +The maid entered, carrying tea. She smiled at them. "I thought madame +might like tea at once, sir," she said, and placed the tray on the little +table. + +"Thank you ever so much," said Julie impulsively; "that is good of you. +I'm longing for it. One gets so tired in the train." Then she walked to +the glass. "I'll take off my hat, Peter," she said, "and my coat, and +then we'll have tea comfortably. I do want it, and a cigarette. You're an +angel to have thought of my own De Reszke." + +She threw herself into a big basket chair, and leaned over to the table. +"Milk and sugar for you, Peter? By the way, I ought to know these things; +not that it much matters; ours was a war marriage, and I've hardly seen +you at all!" + +Peter sat opposite, and watched her pour out. She leaned back with a +piece of toast in her hands, her eyes on him, and they smiled across at +each other. Suddenly he could bear it no longer. He put his cup down and +knelt forward at her feet, his arms on her knees, devouring her. "Oh, +Julie," he said, "I want to worship you--I do indeed. I can't believe +my luck. I can't think that _you_ love _me_." + +Her white teeth bit into the toast. "You old silly," she said. "But I +don't want to be worshipped; I _won't_ be worshipped; I want to be loved, +Peter." + +He put his arms up, and pulled her head down to his, kissing her again +and again, stroking her arm, murmuring foolish words that meant nothing +and meant everything. It was she who stopped him. "Go and sit down," she +said, "and tell me all the plans." + +"Well," he said, "I do hope you'll like them. First, I've not booked up +anything for to-night. I thought we'd go out to dinner to a place I know +and sit over it, and enjoy ourselves. It's a place in Soho, and quite +humorous, I think. Then we might walk back: London's so perfect at night, +isn't it? To-morrow I've got seats for the Coliseum matinee. You know it, +of course; it's a jolly place where one can talk if one wants to, and +smoke; and then I've seats in the evening for _Zigzag_. Saturday night +we're going to see _Carminetta_, which they say is the best show in town, +and Saturday morning we can go anywhere you please, or do anything. And +we can cut out any of them if you like," he added. + +She let her arms lie along the chair, and drew a breath of delight. +"You're truly wonderful," she said. "What a blessing not having to worry +what's to be done! It's a perfect programme. I only wish we could be in +Paris for Sunday; it's so slow here." + +He smiled. "You're sure you're not bored about to-night?" he asked. She +looked him full in the eyes and said nothing. He sprang up and rushed +towards her. She laughed her old gay laugh, and avoided him, jumping up +and getting round the table. "No," she warned; "no more now. Come and +show me the rest of the establishment." + +Arm in arm they made the tour of inspection. In the bathroom Julie's eyes +danced. "Thank the Lord for that bath, Peter," she said. "I shall revel +in it. That's one thing I loathe about France, that one can't get decent +baths, and in the country here it's no better. I had two inches of water +in a foot-bath down in Sussex, and when you sit in the beastly thing only +about three inches of yourself get wet and those the least important +inches. I shall lie in this for hours and smoke, and you shall feed me +with chocolates and read to me. How will you like that?" + +Peter made the only possible answer, and they went back to the bedroom. +The man was bringing up her luggage, and he deposited it on the +luggage-stool. "Heavens!" said Julie, "where are my keys? Oh, I know, in +my purse. I hope you haven't lost it. Do give it to me. The suit-case is +beautifully packed, but the trunk is in an appalling mess. I had to throw +my things in anyhow. By the way, I wonder what they'll make of different +initials on all our luggage? Not that it matters a scrap, especially +these days. Besides, I don't suppose they noticed." + +She was on her knees by the trunk, and had undone it. She lifted the lid, +and Peter saw the confusion inside, and caught sight of the unfamiliar +clothes, Julie was rummaging everywhere. "I know I've left them behind!" +she exclaimed. "Whatever shall I do? My scent and powder-puff! Peter, +it's terrible! I can't go to Soho to dinner without them." + +"Let's go and get some," he suggested; "there's time." + +"No, I can't," she said. "You go. Don't be long. I want to sit in front +of the fire and be cosy." + +Peter set off on the unfamiliar errand, smiling grimly to himself. He got +the scent easily enough, and then inquired for a powder-puff. In the old +days he would scarcely have dared; but he had been in France. He selected +a little French box with a mirror in the lid and a pretty rosebud +pattern, and paid for it unblushingly. Then he returned. + +He opened the door of their sitting-room, and stood transfixed for a +minute. The shaded reading-lamp was on, the other lights off. The fire +glowed red, and Julie lay stretched out in a big chair, smoking a +cigarette. She turned and looked up at him over her shoulder. She had +taken off her dress and slipped on a silk kimono, letting her hair down, +which fell in thick tumbled masses about her. The arm that held the +cigarette was stretched up above her, and the wide, loose sleeve of the +kimono had slipped back, leaving it bare to her shoulder. Her white +frilled petticoat showed beneath, as she had pushed her feet out before +her to the warmth of the fire. Peter's blood pounded in his temples. + +"Good boy," she said; "you haven't been long. Come and show me. I had to +get comfortable: I hope you don't mind." + +He came slowly forward without a word and bent over her. The scent of her +rose intoxicatingly around him as he bent down for a kiss. Their lips +clung together, and the wide world stood still. + +Julie made room for him beside her. "You dear old thing," she exclaimed +at the sight of the powder-puff. "It's a gem. You couldn't have bettered +it in Paris." She opened it, took out the little puff, and dabbed her +open throat. Then, laughing, she dabbed at him: "Don't look so solemn," +she said, "Solomon!" + +Peter slipped one arm round her beneath the kimono, and felt her warm +relaxed waist. Then he pushed his other hand, unresisted, in where her +white throat gleamed bare and open to him, and laid his lips on her hair. +"Oh, Julie," he said, "I had no idea one could love so. It is almost more +than I can bear." + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck a half-hour, and Julie stirred in his +arms and glanced up. "Good Lord, Peter!" she exclaimed, "do you know what +the time is? Half-past seven! I shall never be dressed, and we shall get +no dinner. Let me up, for goodness sake, and give me a drink if you've +got such a thing. If not, ring for it. I shall never have energy enough +to get into my things otherwise." + +Peter opened the little door of the sideboard and got out decanter, +siphon, and glasses. Julie, sitting up and arranging herself, smiled at +him. "Is there a single thing you haven't thought of, you old dear?" she +said. + +"Say when," said Peter, coming towards her. Then he poured himself out a +tumbler and stood by the fire, looking at her. + +"It's a pity we have to go out at all," he said, "for I suppose you can't +go like that." + +"A pity? It's a jolly good thing. You wait till you've seen my frock, my +dear. But, Peter, do you think there's likely to be anyone there that we +know?" + +He shook his head. "Not there, at any rate," he said. + +"Here?" + +"More likely, but it's such a big place we're not likely to meet them, +even so. But if you feel nervous, do you know the best cure? Come down +into the lounge, and see the crowd of people. You sit there and people +stream by, and you don't know a face. It's the most comfortable, feeling +in the world. One's more alone than on a desert island. You might be a +ghost that no one sees." + +Julie shuddered. "Peter don't! You make me feel creepy." She got up "Go +and find that maid, will you? I want her to help me dress." + +Peter walked to the bell and rang it, "Where do I come in?" he asked. + +"Well, you can go and wash in the bathroom, and if you're frightened of +her you can dress there!" And she walked to the door laughing. + +"I'll just finish my drink," he said. "You will be heaps longer than I." + +Five minutes later, having had no answer to his ring, he switched off the +light, and walked out into the hall He hesitated at Julie's door, then he +tapped. "Come in," she said. + +She was standing half-dressed in front of the glass doing her hair, "Oh, +it's you, is it?" she said. "Wherever is that maid? I can't wait all +night for her; you'll have to help." + +Peter sat down and began to change. Half-surreptitiously he watched Julie +moving about, and envied her careless abandon. He was much the more +nervous of the two. + +Presently she called him from the bathroom to fasten her dress. When it +was done, she stood back for him to examine her. + +"That all right?" she demanded, putting a touch here and there. + +Not every woman could have worn her gown. It was a rose pink with some +rich flame-coloured material in front, and was held by two of the +narrowest bands on her shoulders. In the deep _décolleté_ she pushed +two rosebuds from the big bunch, and hung round her neck a pendant of +mother-of-pearl and silver. She wore no other jewellery, and she needed +none. She faced him, a vision of loveliness. + +They went down the stairs together and out into the crush of people, some +of the women in evening dress, but few of the men. The many uniforms +looked better, Peter thought, despite the drab khaki. They had to stand +for awhile while a taxi was found, Julie laughing and chatting +vivaciously. She had a wrap for her shoulders that she had bought in Port +Said, set with small metallic points, and it sparkled about her in the +blaze of light. She flattered him by seeming unconscious of anyone else, +and put her hand on his arm as they went out. + +They drove swiftly through back-streets to the restaurant that Peter had +selected, and stopped in a quiet, dark, narrow road off Greek Street. +Julie got out and looked around with pretended fear. "Where in the world +have you brought me?" she demanded. "However did you find the place? +It's worse than some of your favourite places in Havre." + +Inside, however, she looked round appreciatively. "Really, Peter, it's +splendid," she said under her breath--"just the place," and smiled +sweetly on the padrone who came forward, bowing. Peter had engaged a +table, and they were led to it. + +"I had almost given you up, sir," said the man, "but by good fortune, +some of our patrons are late too." + +They sat down opposite to each other, and studied the menu held out to +them by a waiter. "I don't know the meaning of half the dishes," laughed +Julie. "You order. It'll be more fun if I don't know what's coming." + +"We must drink Chianti," said Peter, and ordered a bottle. "You can think +you are in Italy." + +Elbows on the table as she waited, Julie looked round. In the far corner +a gay party of four were halfway through dinner. Two officers, an elderly +lady and a young one, she found rather hard to place, but Julie decided +the girl was the fiancée of one who had brought his friend to meet her. +At other tables were mostly couples, and across the room from her, with +an elderly officer, sat a well-made-up woman, very plainly _demimonde_. +Immediately before her were four men, two of them foreigners, in morning +dress, talking and eating hare. It was evidently a professional party, +and one of the four now and again hummed out a little air to the +rest, and once jotted down some notes on the back of a programme. They +took no notice of anyone, but the eyes of the woman with the officer, who +hardly spoke to her, searched Julie unblushingly. + +Julie, gave a little sigh of happiness. "This is lovely, Peter," she +said. "We'll be ages over dinner. It's such fun to be in nice clothes +just for dinner sometimes and not to have to worry about the time, and +going on elsewhere. But I do wish my friends could see me, I must say. +They'd be horrified. They thought I was going to a stodgy place in West +Kensington. I was must careful to be vague, but that was the idea. Peter, +how would you like to live in a suburb and have heaps of children, and +dine out with city men and their wives once or twice a month for a +treat?" + +Peter grimaced. Then he looked thoughtful. "It wouldn't have been any so +remarkable for me at one time, Julie," he said. + +She shook her head. "It would, my dear. You're not made for it." + +"What am I made for, then?" + +She regarded him solemnly, and then relaxed into a smile. "I haven't a +notion, but not that. The thing is never to worry. You get what you're +made for in the end, I think." + +"I wonder," said Peter. "Perhaps, but not always. The world's full of +square pegs in round holes." + +"Then they're stodgy pegs, without anything in them. If I was a square +peg I'd never go into a round hole." + +"Suppose there was no other hole to go into," demanded Peter. + +"Then I'd fall out, or I wouldn't go into any hole at all. I'd sooner be +anything in the world than stodgy, Peter. I'd sooner be like that woman +over there who is staring at me so!" + +Peter glanced to one side, and then back at Julie. He was rather grave. +"Would you really?" he questioned. + +The waiter brought the Chianti and poured out glasses. Julie waited till +he had gone, and then lifted hers and looked at Peter across it. "I +would," she said. "I couldn't live without wine and excitement and song. +I'm made that way. Cheerio, Solomon!" + +They drank to each other. Then: "And love?" queried Peter softly. + +Julie did not reply for a minute. She set her wine-glass down and toyed +with the stem. Then she looked up at him under her eyelashes with that +old daring look of hers, and repeated: "And love, Peter. But real love, +not stodgy humdrum liking, Peter. I want the love that's like the hot +sun, and the wide, tossing blue sea east of Suez, and the nights under +the moon where the real world wakes up and doesn't go to sleep, like it +does in the country in the cold, hard North. Do you know," she went on, +"though I love the cities, and bands, and restaurants, and theatres, and +taxis, and nice clothes, I love best of all the places where one has none +of these things. I once went with a shooting-party to East Africa, Peter, +and that's what I love. I shall never forget the nights at Kilindini, +with the fireflies dancing among the bushes, and the moon glistening on +the palms as if they were wet, and the insects shrilling in the grass, +and the hot, damp air. Or by day, up in the forest, camped under the +great trees, with the strange few flowers and the silence, while the sun +trickled through the leaves and made pools of light on the ground. Do you +know, I saw the most beautiful thing I've ever seen or, I think, shall +see in that forest." + +"What was that?" asked Peter, under her spell, for she was speaking like +a woman in a dream. + +"It was one day when we were marching. We came on a glade among the +trees, and at the end of it, a little depression of damp green grass, +only the grass was quite hidden beneath a sheet of blue--such blue, I +can't describe it--that quivered and moved in the sun. We stood quite +still, and then a boy threw a little stone. And the blue all rose in the +air, silently, like magic. It was a swarm of hundreds and hundreds of +blue butterflies, Peter. Do you know what I did? I cried--I couldn't help +it. It was too beautiful to see, Peter." + +A little silence fell between them. She broke it in another tone. + +"And the natives--I love the natives. I just love the all but naked girls +carrying the water up to the village in the evening, tall and straight, +like Greek statues; and the men, in a string of beads and a spear. I +wanted to go naked myself there--at least, I did till one day I tried it, +and the sun skinned me in no time. But at least one needn't wear +much--cool loose things, and it doesn't matter what one does or says." + +Peter laughed. "Who was with you when you tried the experiment?" he +demanded. + +Julie threw her head back, and even the professional four glanced up and +looked at her. "Ah, wouldn't you like to know?" she laughed. "Well, I +won't tease you--two native girls if you want to know, that was all. The +rest of the party were having a midday sleep. But I never can sleep +at midday. I don't mind lying in a hammock or a deck-chair, and reading, +but I can't sleep. One feels so beastly when one wakes up, doesn't one?" + +Peter nodded, but steered her back. "Tell me more," he said. "You wake +something up in me; I feel as if I was born to be there." + +"Well," she said reflectively, "I don't know that anything can beat the +great range that runs along our border in Natal. It's different, of +course, but it's very wonderful. There's one pass I know--see here, you +go up a wide valley with a stream that runs in and out, and that you have +to cross again and again until it narrows and narrows to a small footpath +between great kranzes. At first there are queer stunted trees and bushes +about, with the stream, that's now a tiny thing of clear water, singing +among them, and there the trees stop, and you climb up and up among the +boulders, until you think you can do no more, and at the last you come +out on the top." + +"And then?" + +"You're in wonderland. Before you lies peak on peak, grass-grown and +rocky, so clear in the rare, still air. There is nothing there but +mountain and rock and grass, and the blue sky, with perhaps little clouds +being blown across it, and a wind that's cool and vast--you feel it fills +everything. And you look down the way you've come, and there's all Natal +spread out at your feet like a tiny picture, lands and woods and rivers, +till it's lost in the mist of the distance." + +She ceased, staring at her wine-glass. At last the chatter of the place +broke in on Peter. "My dear," he exclaimed, "one can see it. But what do +you do there?" + +She laughed and broke the spell. "What would one do?" she demanded. "Eat +and drink and sleep, and make love, Peter, if there's anybody to make +love to." + +"But you couldn't do that all your life," he objected. + +"Why not? Why do anything else? I never can see. And when you're +tired--for you _do_ get tired at last--back to Durban for a +razzle-dazzle, or back farther still, to London or Paris for a bit. +That's the life for me, Peter!" + +He smiled: "Provided somebody is there with the necessary, I suppose?" he +said. + +"Solomon," she mocked, "Solomon, Solomon! Why do you spoil it all? But +you're right, of course, Peter, though I hate to think of that." + +"I see how we're like, and how we're unlike, Julie," said Peter suddenly, +"You like real things, and so do I. You hate to feel stuffy and tied up +in conventions, and so do I. But you're content with just that, and I'm +not." + +"Am I?" she queried, looking at him a little strangely. + +Peter did not notice; he was bent on pursuing his argument. "Yes, you +are," he said. "When you're in the grip of real vital things--nature +naked and unashamed--you have all you want. You don't stop to think of +to-morrow. You live. But I, I feel that there is something round the +corner all the time. I feel as if there must be something bigger than +just that. I'd love your forest and your range and your natives, I think, +but only because one is nearer something else with them than here. I +don't know how to put it, but when you think of those things you feel +_full_, and I still feel _empty_." + +"Peter," said Julie softly, "do you remember Caudebec?" + +He looked up at her then. "I shall never forget it, dear," he said. + +"Then you'll remember our talk in the car?" + +He nodded. "When you talked about marriage and human nature and men, and +so on," he said. + +"No, I don't mean that. I did talk of those things, and I gave you a +little rather bitter philosophy that is more true than you think; but I +don't mean that. Afterwards, when we spoke about shams and playing. Do +you remember, I hinted that a big thing might come along--do you +remember?" + +He nodded again, but he did not speak. + +"Well," she said, "it's come--that's all." + +"Another bottle of Chianti, sir?" queried the padrone at his elbow. + +Peter started. "What? Oh, yes, please," he said. "We can manage another +bottle, Julie? And bring on the dessert now, will you? Julie, have a +cigarette." + +"If we have another bottle you must drink most of it," she laughed, +almost as if they had not been interrupted, but with a little vivid +colour in her cheeks. "Otherwise, my dear, you'll have to carry me +upstairs, which won't look any too well. But I want another glass. Oh, +Peter, do look at that woman now!" + +Peter looked. The elderly officer had dined to repletion and drank well +too. The woman had roused herself; she was plainly urging him to come on +out; and as Peter glanced over, she made an all but imperceptible sign to +a waiter, who bustled forward with the man's cap and stick. He took them +stupidly, and the woman helped him up, but not too noticeably. Together +they made for the door, which the waiter held wide open. The woman tipped +him, and he bowed. The door closed, and the pair disappeared into the +street. + +"A damned plucky sort," said Julie; "I don't care what anyone says." + +"I didn't think so once, Julie," said Peter, "but I believe you're right +now. It's a topsy-turvy world, little girl, and one never knows where one +is in it." + +"Men often don't," said Julie, "but women make fewer mistakes. Come, +Peter, let's get back. I want the walk, and I want that cosy little +room." + +He drained his glass and got up. Suddenly the thought of the physical +Julie ran through him like fire. "Rather!" he said gaily. "So do I, +little girl." + +The waiter pulled back the chairs. The padrone came up all bows and +smiles. He hoped the Captain would come again--any time. It was better to +ring up, as they were often very full. A taxi? No? Well, the walk through +the streets was enjoyable after dinner, even now, when the lights were so +few. Good-evening, madame; he hoped everything had been to her liking. + +Julie sauntered across the now half-empty little room, and took Peter's +arm in the street. "Do you know the way?" she demanded. + +"We can't miss it," he said. "Up here will lead us to Shaftesbury Avenue +somewhere, and then we go down. Sure you want to walk, darling?" + +"Yes, and see the people, Peter, I love seeing them. Somehow by night +they're more natural than they are by day. I hate seeing people going to +work in droves, and men rushing about the city with dollars written all +across their faces. At night that's mostly finished with. One can see +ugly things, but some rather beautiful ones as well. Let's cross over. +There are more people that side." + +They passed together down the big street. Even the theatres were darkened +to some extent, but taxis were about, and kept depositing their loads of +men and smiling women. The street-walks held Tommies, often plainly with +a sweet-heart from down east; men who sauntered along and scanned the +faces of the women; a newsboy or two; a few loungers waiting to pick up +odd coppers; and here and there a woman by herself. It was the usual +crowd, but they were in the mood to see the unusual in usual things. + +In the Circus they lingered a little. Shrouded as it was, an atmosphere +of mystery hung over everything. Little groups that talked for a while +at the corners or made appointments, or met and broke up again, had the +air of conspirators in some great affair. The rush of cars down Regent +Street, and then this way and that, lent colour to the thought, and +it affected both of them. "What's brooding over it all, Julie?" Peter +half-whispered. "Can't you feel that there is something?" + +She shrugged her shoulders, and then gave a little shiver. "Love, or what +men take for love," she said. + +He clasped the hand that lay along his arm passionately. "Come along," he +said. + +"Oh, this _is_ good, Peter," said Julie a few minutes later. She had +thrown off her wrap, and was standing by the fire while he arranged the +cigarettes, the biscuits, and a couple of drinks on the little table with +its shaded light. "Did you lock the door? Are we quite alone, we two, at +last, with all the world shut out?" + +He came swiftly over to her, and took her in his arms for answer. He +pressed kisses on her hair, her lips, her neck, and she responded to +them. + +"Oh, love, love," he said, "let's sit down and forget that there is +anything but you and I." + +She broke from him with a little laugh of excitement. "We will, Peter," +she said; "but I'm going to take off this dress and one or two other +things, and let my hair down. Then I'll come back." + +"Take them off here," he said; "you needn't go away." + +She looked at him and laughed again. "Help me, then," she said, and +turned her back for him to loosen her dress. + +Clumsily he obeyed. He helped her off with the shimmering beautiful +thing, and put it carefully over a chair. With deft fingers she loosened +her hair, and he ran his fingers through it, and buried his face in the +thick growth of it. She untied a ribbon at her waist, and threw from +her one or two of her mysterious woman's things. Then, with a sigh of +utter abandonment, she threw herself into his arms. + +They sat long over the fire. Outside the dull roar of the sleepless city +came faintly up to them, and now and again a coal fell in the grate. At +long last Peter pushed her back a little from him. "Little girl," he +said, "I must ask one thing. Will you forgive me? That night at +Abbeville, after we left Langton, what was it you wouldn't tell me? +What was it you thought he would have known about you, but not I? Julie, +I thought, to-night--was it anything to do with East Africa--those +tropical nights under the moon? Oh, tell me, Julie!" + +The girl raised her eyes to his. That look of pain and knowledge that he +had seen from the beginning was in them again. Her hand clasped the +lappet of his tunic convulsively, and she seemed to him indeed but a +little girl. + +"Peter! could you not have asked? But no, you couldn't, not you.... But +you guess now, don't you? Oh, Peter, I was so young, and I thought--oh, +I thought: the big thing had come, and since then life's been all one +big mockery. I've laughed at it, Peter: it was the only way. And then +you came along. I haven't dared to think, but there's something about +you--oh, I don't know what! But you don't play tricks, do you, Peter? +And you've given me all, at last, without a question.... Oh, Peter, tell +me you love me still! It's your love, Peter, that can make me clean and +save my soul--if I've any soul to save," she added brokenly. + +Peter caught her to him. He crushed her so that she caught her breath with +the pain of it, and he wound his hand all but savagely in her hair. He +got up--and she never guessed he had the strength--and carried her out in +his arms, and into the other room. + +And hours later, staring into the blackness while she slept as softly as +a child by his side, he could not help smiling a little to himself. It +was all so different from what he had imagined. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Peter awoke, and wondered where he was. Then his eye fell on a half-shut, +unfamiliar trunk across the room, and he heard splashing through the open +door of the bathroom. "Julie!" he called. + +A gurgle of laughter came from the same direction and the splashing +ceased. Almost the next second Julie appeared in the doorway. She was +still half-wet from the water, and her sole dress was a rosebud which she +had just tucked into her hair. She stood there, laughing, a perfect +vision of unblushing natural loveliness, splendidly made from her little +head poised lightly on her white shoulders to her slim feet. "You lazy +creature!" she exclaimed; "you're awake at last, are you? Get up at +once," and she ran over to him just as she was, seizing the bed-clothes +and attempting to strip them off. Peter protested vehemently. "You're a +shameless baggage," he said, "and I don't want to get up yet. I want some +tea and a cigarette in bed. Go away!" + +"You won't get up, won't you?" she said. "All right; I'll get into bed, +then," and she made as if to do so. + +"Get away!" he shouted. "You're streaming wet! You'll soak everything." + +"I don't care," she retorted, laughing and struggling at the same time, +and she succeeded in getting a foot between the sheets. Peter slipped out +on the other side, and she ran round to him. "Come on," she said; "now +for your bath. Not another moment. My water's steaming hot, and it's +quite good enough for you. You can smoke in your bath or after it. Come +on!" + +She dragged him into the bathroom and into that bath, and then she filled +a sponge with cold water and trickled it on him, until he threatened to +jump out and give her a cold douche. Then, panting with her exertions and +dry now, she collapsed on the chair and began to fumble with her hair +and its solitary rose. It was exactly Julie who sat there unashamed in +her nakedness, Peter thought. She had kept the soul of a child through +everything, and it could burst through the outer covering of the woman +who had tasted of the tree of knowledge of good and evil and laugh in the +sun. + +"Peter," she said, "wouldn't you love to live in the Fiji--no, not the +Fiji, because I expect that's civilised these days, but on an almost +desert island?--though not desert, of course. Why does one call Robinson +Crusoe sort of islands _desert_? Oh, I know, because it means deserted, I +suppose. But I don't want it quite deserted, for I want you, and three +or four huts of nice savages to cut up wood for the fire and that sort of +thing. And I should wear a rose--no, a hibiscus--in my hair all day long, +and nothing else at all. And you should wear--well, I don't know what you +should wear, but something picturesque that covered you up a bit, because +you're by no means so good-looking as I am, Peter." She jumped up and +stretched out her arms, "Am I not good-looking, Peter? Why isn't there a +good mirror in this horrid old bathroom? It's more necessary in a +bathroom than anywhere, I think." + +"Well, I can see you without it," said Peter. "And I quite agree, Julie, +you're divine. You are like Aphrodite, sprung from the foam." + +She laughed. "Well, spring from the foam yourself, old dear, and come and +dress. I'm getting cold. I'm going to put on the most thrilling set of +undies this morning that you ever saw. The cami-... " + +Peter put his fingers in his ears. "Julie," he said, "in one minute I +shall blush for shame. Go and put on something, if you must, but don't +talk about it. You're like a Greek goddess just now, but if you begin to +quote advertisements you'll be like--well, I don't know what you'll be +like, but I won't have it, anyway. Go on; get away with you. I shall +throw the sponge at you if you don't." + +She departed merrily, singing to herself, and Peter lay a little longer +in the soft warm water. He dwelt lovingly on the girl in the other room; +he told himself he was the happiest man alive; and yet he got out of the +bath, without apparent rhyme or reason, with a little sigh. But he was +only a little quicker than most men in that. Julie had attained and was +radiant; Peter had attained--and sighed. + +She was entirely respectable by contrast when he rejoined her, shaven and +half-dressed, a little later, but just as delectable, as she stood in +soft white things putting up her hair with her bare arms. He went over +and kissed her. "You never said good-morning at all, you wretch," he +said. + +She flung her arms round his neck and kissed him again many times. +"Purposely," she said. "I shall never say good-morning to you while +you're horribly unshaven--never. You can't help waking up like it, I +know, but it's your duty to get clean and decent as quickly as possible. +See?" + +"I'll try _always_ to remember," said Peter, and stressed the word. + +She held him for an appreciable second at that; then loosed him with a +quick movement. "Go, now," she said, "and order breakfast to be brought +up to our sitting-room. It must be a very nice breakfast. There must be +kippers and an omelette. Go quick; I'll be ready in half a minute." + +"I believe that girl is sweeping the room," said Peter. "Am I to appear +like this? You must remember that we're not in France." + +"Put on a dressing-gown then. You haven't got one here? Then put on my +kimono; you'll look exceedingly beautiful.... Really, Peter, you do. Our +island will have to be Japan, because kimonos suit you. But I shall never +live to reach it if you don't order that breakfast." + +Peter departed, and had a satisfactory interview with the telephone in +the presence of the maid. He returned with a cigarette between his lips, +smiling, and Julie turned to survey him. + +"Peter, come here. Have you kissed that girl? I believe you have! How +dare you? Talk about being shameless, with me here in the next room!" + +"I thought you never minded such things, Julie. You've told me to kiss +girls before now. _And_ you said that you'd always allow your husband +complete liberty--now, didn't you?" + +Julie sat down on the bed and heaved a mock sigh. "What incredible +creatures are men!" she exclaimed. "Must I mean everything I say, +Solomon? Is there no difference between this flat and that miserable old +hotel in Caudebec? And last, but not least, have you promised to forsake +all other and cleave unto me as long as we both shall live? If you had +promised it, I'd know you couldn't possibly keep it; but as it is, I have +hopes." + +This was too much for Peter. He dropped into the position that she had +grown to love to see him in, and he put his arms round her waist, looking +up at her laughingly. "But you will marry me, Julie, won't you?" he +demanded. + +Before his eyes, a lingering trace of that old look crept back into her +face. She put her hands beneath his chin, and said no word, till he could +stand it no longer. + +"Julie, Julie, my darling," he said, "you must." + +"Must, Peter?" she queried, a little wistfully he thought. + +"Yes, must; but say you want to, say you will, Julie!" + +"I want to, Peter," she said--"oh, my dear, you don't know, you can't +know, how much. The form is nothing to me, but I want _you_--if I can +keep you." + +"If you can keep me!" echoed Peter, and it was as if an ice-cold finger +had suddenly been laid on his heart. For one second he saw what might be. +But he banished it. "What!" he exclaimed. "Cannot you trust me, Julie? +Don't you know I love you? Don't you know I want to make you the very +centre of my being, Julie?" + +"I know, dearest," she whispered, and he had never heard her speak so +before. "You want, that is one thing; you can, that is another." + +Peter stared up at her. He felt like a little child who kneels at the +feet of a mother whom it sees as infinitely loving, infinitely wise, +infinitely old. And, like a child, he buried his head in her lap. "Oh, +Julie," he said, "you must marry me. I want you so that I can't tell you +how much. I don't know what you mean. Say," he said, looking up again and +clasping her tightly--"say you'll marry me, Julie!" + +She sprang up with a laugh. "Peter," she said, "you're Mid-Victorian. You +are actually proposing to me upon your knees. If I could curtsy or faint +I would, but I can't. Every scrap of me is modern, down to Venns' +cami-knickers that you wouldn't let me talk about. Let's go and eat +kippers; I'm dying for them. Come on, old Solomon." + +He got up more slowly, half-smiling, for who could resist Julie in that +mood? But he made one more effort. He caught her hand. "But just say +'Yes' Julie," he said--"just 'Yes.'" + +She snatched her hand away. "Maybe I will tell you on Monday morning," +she said, and ran out of the room. + +As he finished dressing, he heard her singing in the next room, and then +talking to the maid. When he entered the sitting-room the girl came out, +and he saw that there were tears in her eyes. He went in and looked +sharply at Julie; there was a suspicion of moisture in hers also. "Oh, +Peter," she said, and took him by the arm as the door closed, "why didn't +you tell me about Jack? I'm going out immediately after breakfast to buy +her the best silver photo-frame I can find, see? And now come and eat +your kippers. They're half-cold, I expect. I thought you were never +coming." + +So began a dream-like day to Peter. Julie was the centre of it. He +followed her into shops, and paid for her purchases and carried her +parcels: he climbed with her on to buses, which she said she preferred to +taxis in the day-time; he listened to her talk, and he did his best to +find out what she wanted and get just that for her. They lunched, at her +request, at an old-fashioned, sober restaurant in Regent Street, that +gave one the impression of eating luncheon in a Georgian dining-room, in +some private house of great stolidity and decorum. When Julie had said +that she wanted such a place Peter had been tickled to think how she +would behave in it. But she speedily enlightened him. She drew off her +gloves with an air. She did not laugh once. She did not chat to the +waiter. She did not hurry in, nor demand the wine-list, nor call him +Solomon. She did not commit one single Colonial solecism at table, as +Peter had hated himself for half thinking that she might. Yet she never +had looked prettier, he thought, and even there he caught glances which +suggested that others might think so too. And if she talked less than +usual, so did he, for his mind was very busy. In the old days it was +almost just such a wife as Julie now that he would have wanted. But did +he want the old days? Could he go back to them? Could he don the clerical +frock coat and with it the clerical system and outlook of St. John's? He +knew, as he sat there, that not only he could not, but that he would not. +What, then? It was almost as if Julie suggested that the alternative was +madcap days, such as that little scene in the bathroom suggested. He +looked at her, and thought of it again, and smiled at the incongruity of +it, there. But even as he smiled the cold whisper of dread insinuated +itself again, small and slight as it was. Would such days fill his life? +Could they offer that which should seize on his heart, and hold it? + +He roused himself with an effort of will, poured himself another glass of +wine, and drank it down. The generous, full-bodied stuff warmed him, and +he glanced at his wrist-watch. "I say," he said, "we shall be late, +Julie, and I don't want to miss one scrap of this show. Have you +finished? A little more wine?" + +Julie was watching him, he thought, as he spoke, and she, too, seemed to +him to make a little effort. "I will, Peter," she said, not at all as she +had spoken there before--"a full glass too. One wants to be in a good +mood for the Coliseum. Well, dear old thing, cheerio!" + +Outside he demanded a taxi. "I must have it, Julie," he said. "I want to +drive up, and have the old buffer in gold braid open the door for me. +Have a cigarette?" + +She took one, and laughed as they settled into the car. "I know the +feeling, my dear," she said. "And you want to stroll languidly up the red +carpet, and pass by the pictures of chorus-girls as if you were so +accustomed to the real thing that really the pictures were rather borin', +don't you know. And you want to make eyes at the programme-girl, and give +a half-crown tip when they open the box, and take off your British warm +in full view of the audience, and...." + +"Kiss you," said Peter uproariously, suiting the action to the word. +"Good Lord, Julie, you're a marvel! No more of those old restaurants for +me. We dine at our hotel to-night, in the big public room near the band, +and we drink champagne." + +"And you put the cork in my stocking?" she queried, stretching out her +foot. + +He pushed his hand up her skirt and down to the warm place beneath the +gay garter that she indicated, and he kissed her passionately again. "It +doesn't matter now," he said. "I have more of you than that. Why, that's +nothing to me now, Julie. Oh, how I love you!" + +She pushed him off, and snatched her foot away also, laughing gaily. "I'm +getting cheap, am I?" she said. "We'll see. You're going to have a damned +rotten time in the theatre, my dear. Not another kiss, and I shall be as +prim as a Quaker." + +The car stopped. "You couldn't," he laughed, helping her out. "And what +is more, I shan't let you be. I've got you, old darling, and I propose to +keep you, what's more." He took her arm resolutely. "Come along. We're +going to be confoundedly late." + +Theirs was a snug little box, one of the new ones, placed as in a +French theatre. The great place was nearly dark as they entered, except +for the blaze of light that shone through the curtain. The odour of +cigarette-smoke and scent greeted them, with the rustle of dresses and +the subdued sound of gay talk. The band struck up. Then, after the +rolling overture, the curtain ran swiftly up, and a smart young person +tripped on the stage in the limelight and made great play of swinging +petticoats. + +Julie had no remembrance of her promised severity at any rate. She hummed +airs, and sang choruses, and laughed, and was thrilled, exactly as she +should have been, while the music and the panorama went on and wrapped +them round with glamour, as it was meant to do. She cheered the patriotic +pictures and Peter with her, till he felt no end of a fellow to be in +uniform. The people in front of them glanced round amusedly now and +again, and as like as not Julie would be discovered sitting there +demurely, her child's face all innocence, and a big chocolate held +between her fingers at her mouth. Peter would lean back in his corner +convulsed at her, and without moving a muscle of her face she would put +her leg tip on his seat and push him. One scene they watched well back +in their dark box, his arm round her waist. It was a little pathetic +love-play and well done, and in the gloom he played with the curls at +her ears and neck with his lips, and held her hand. + +When it was over they went out with the crowd. The January day was done, +but it was bewildering for all that to come out into real life. There was +no romance for the moment on the stained street, and in the passing +traffic. The gold braid of the hall commissionaire looked tawdry, and +the pictures of ballet-girls but vulgar. It is the common experience, but +each time one feels it there is a new surprise. Julie had her own remedy: + +"The liveliest tea-room you can find, Peter," she demanded. + +"It will be hard to beat our own," said Peter. + +"Well, away there, then; let's get back to a band again, anyhow." + +The great palm-lounge was full of people, and for a few minutes it did +not seem as if they would find seats; but then Julie espied a half-empty +table, and they made for it. It stood away back in a corner, with two +wicker armchairs before it, and, behind, a stationary lounge against the +wall overhung by a huge palm. The lounge was occupied. "We'll get in +there presently," whispered Peter, and they took the chairs, thankful in +the crowded place to get seated at all. + +"Oh, it was topping, Peter," said Julie. "I love a great place like that. +I almost wish we had had dress-circle seats or stalls out amongst the +people. But I don't know; that box was delicious. Did you see how that +old fossil in front kept looking round? I made eyes at him once, +deliberately--you know, like this," and she looked sideways at Peter +with subtle invitation just hinted in her eyes. "I thought he would have +apoplexy--I did, really." + +"It's a good thing I didn't notice, Julie. Even now I should hate to see +you look like that, say, at Donovan. You do it too well. Oh, here's the +tea. Praise the Lord! I'm dying for a cup. You can have all the cakes; +I've smoked too much." + +"Wouldn't you prefer a whisky?" + +"No, not now--afterwards. What's that they're playing?" + +They listened, Julie seemingly intent, and Peter, who soon gave up the +attempt to recognise the piece, glanced sideways at the couple on the +lounge. They did not notice him. He took them both in and caught--he +could not help it--a few words. + +She was thirty-five, he guessed, slightly made-up, but handsome and full +figured, a woman of whom any man might have been proud. He was an +officer, in Major's uniform, and he was smoking a cigarette impatiently +and staring down the lounge. She, on the other hand, had her eyes fixed +on him as if to read every expression on his face, which was heavy and +sullen and mutinous. + +"Is that final, then, George?" she said. + +"I tell you I can't help it; I promised I'd dine with Carstairs +to-night." + +A look swept across her face. Peter could not altogether read it. It was +not merely anger, or pique, or disappointment; it certainly was not +merely grief. There was all that in it, but there was more. And she +said--he only just caught the sentence of any of their words, but there +was the world of bitter meaning in it: + +"Quite alone, I suppose? And there will be no necessity for me to sit +up?" + +"Peter," said Julie suddenly, "the tea's cold. Take me upstairs, will +you? we can have better sent up." + +He turned to her in surprise, and then saw that she too had heard and +seen. + +"Right, dear," he said, "It is beastly stuff. I think, after all, I'd +prefer a spot, and I believe you would too." + +He rose carefully, not looking towards the lounge, like a man; and Julie +got up too, glancing at that other couple with such an ordinary merely +interested look that Peter smiled to himself to see it. They threaded +their way in necessary silence through the tables and chairs to the +doors, and said hardly a word in the lift. But in their sitting-room, +cosy as ever, Julie turned to him in a passion of emotion such as he had +scarcely dreamed could exist even in her. + +"Oh, you darling," she said, "pick me up, and sit me in that chair on +your knee. Love me, Peter, love me as you've never loved me before. Hold +me tight, tight, Peter hurt me, kiss me, love me, say you love me..." and +she choked her own utterance, and buried her face on his shoulder, +straining her body to his, twining her slim foot and leg round his ankle. +In a moment she was up again, however, and glanced at the clock. "Peter, +we must dress early and dine early, mustn't we? The thing begins at +seven-forty-five. Now I know what we'll do. First, give me a drink, +a long one, Solomon, and take one yourself. Thanks. That'll do. Here's +the best.... Oh, that's good, Peter. Can't you feel it running through +you and electrifying you? Now, come"--she seized him by the arm--"come +on! I'll tell you what you've got to do." + +Smiling, though a little astonished at this outburst, Peter allowed +himself to be pulled into the bedroom. She sat down on the bed and pushed +out a foot. "Take it off, you darling, while I take down my hair," she +said. + +He knelt and undid the laces and took off the brown shoes one by one, +feeling her little foot through the silk as he did so. Then he looked up. +She had pulled out a comb or two, and her hair was hanging down. With +swift fingers she finished her work, and was waiting for him. He caught +her in his arms, and she buried her face again. "Oh, Peter, love me, love +me! Undress me, will you? I want you to. Play with me, own me, Peter. +See, I am yours, yours, Peter, all yours. Am I worth having, Peter? Do +you want more than me?" And she flung herself back on the bed in her +disorder, the little ribbons heaving at her breast, her eyes afire, her +cheeks aflame. + +"Well," said Peter, an hour or two later, "we've got to get this dinner +through as quickly as we've ever eaten anything. You'll have to digest +like one of your South African ostriches. I say," he said to the waitress +in a confidential tone and with a smile, "do you think you can get us +stuff in ten minutes all told? We're late as it is, and we'll miss half +the theatre else." + +"It depends what you order," said the girl, rather sharply. Then, after a +glance at them both: "See, if you'll have what I say, I'll get you +through quick. I know what's on easiest. Do you mind?" + +"The very thing," said Peter; "and send the wine-man over on your way, +will you? How will that do?" he added to Julie. + +"I'll risk everything to-night, Peter, except your smiling at the +waitress," she said. "But I must have that champagne. There's something +about champagne that inspires confidence. When a man gives you the gold +bottle you know that he is really serious, or as serious as he can be, +which isn't saying much for most men. And not half a bottle; I've had +half-bottles heaps of times at tête-à -tête dinners. It always means +indecision, which is a beastly thing in anyone, and especially in a man. +It's insulting, for one thing.... Oh, Peter, do look at that girl over +there. Do you suppose she has anything on underneath? I suppose I +couldn't ask her, but you might, you know, if you put on that smile of +yours. Do walk over, beg her pardon, and say very nicely: 'Excuse me, but +I'm a chaplain, and it's my business to know these things. I see you've +no stays on, but have you a bathing costume?'" + +"Julie, do be quiet; someone will hear you. You must remember we're in +England, and that you're talking English." + +"I don't care a damn if they do, Peter! Oh, here's the champagne, at any +rate. Oh, and some soup. Well, that's something." + +"I've got the fish coming," said the girl, "if you can be ready at once." + +Julie seized her spoon. "I suppose I mustn't drink it?" she said. "I +don't see why I shouldn't, as a matter of fact, but it might reflect on +you, Peter, and you're looking so immaculate to-night. By the way, you've +never had that manicure. Do send a note for the girl. I'd hide in the +bathroom. I'd love to hear you. Peter, if I only thought you would do it, +I'd like it better than the play. What is the play, by the way? _Zigzag?_ +Oh, _Zigzag_" (She mimicked in a French accent.) "Well, it will be all +too sadly true if I leave you to that bottle of fizz all by yourself. +Give me another glass, please." + +"What about you?" demanded Peter. "If you're like this now, Heaven knows +what you'll be by the time you've had half of this." + +"Peter, you're an ignoramus. Girls like me never take too much. We began +early for one thing, and we're used to it. For another, the more a girl +talks, the soberer she is. She talks because she's thinking, and because +she doesn't want the man to talk. Now, if you talked to-night, I don't +know what you might not say. You'd probably be enormously sentimental, +and I hate sentimental people. I do, really. Sentiment is wishy-washy, +isn't it? I always associate it with comedians on the stage. Look over +there. Do you see that girl in the big droopy hat and the thin hands? +And the boy--one must say 'boy,' I suppose? He's a little fat and +slightly bald, and he's got three pips up, and has had them for a long +time. Well, look at them. He's searching her eyes, he is, Peter, really. +That's how it's done: you just watch. And he doesn't know if he's eating +pea-soup or oyster-sauce. And she's hoping her hat is drooping just +right, and that he'll notice her ring is on the wrong finger, and how +nice one would look in the right place. To do her justice, she isn't +thinking much about dinner, either; but that's sinful waste, Peter, in +the first place, and bad for one's tummy in the second. However, they're +sentimental, they are, and there's a fortune in it. If they could only +bring themselves to do just that for fifteen minutes at the Alhambra +every night, they'd be the most popular turn in London." + +"That's all very well," said he; "but if you eat so fast and talk at the +same time, you'll pay for it very much as you think they will. Have you +finished?" + +"No, I haven't. I want cheese-straws, and I shall sit here till I get +them or till the whole of London zigzags round me." + +"I say," said Peter to their waitress, "if you possibly can, fetch us +cheese-straws now. Not too many, but quickly. Can you? The lady won't go +without them, and something must be done." + +"Wouldn't the management wait if you telephoned, Peter dear?" inquired +Julie sarcastically. "Just say who you are, and they sure will. If the +chorus only knew, they'd go on strike against appearing before you came, +or tear their tights or something dreadful like that, so that they +couldn't come on. Yes, now I am ready. One wee last little drop of the +bubbly--I see it there--and I'll sacrifice coffee for your sake. Give me +a cigarette, though. Thanks. And now my wrap." + +She rose, the cigarette in her fingers, smiling at him. Peter hastily +followed, walking on air. He was beginning to realise how often he failed +to understand Julie, and to see how completely she controlled her +apparently more frivolous moods; but he loved her in them. He little +knew, as he followed her out, the tumult of thoughts that raced through +that little head with its wealth of brown hair. He little guessed how +bravely she was already counting the fleeting minutes, how resolutely +keeping grip of herself in the flood which threatened to sweep her--how +gladly!--away. + +A good revue must be a pageant of music, colour, scenery, song, dance, +humour, and the impossible. There must be good songs in it, but one does +not go for the songs, any more than one goes to see the working out of a +plot. Strung-up men, forty-eight hours out of the trenches, with every +nerve on edge, must come away with a smile of satisfaction on their +faces, to have a last drink at home and sleep like babies. Women who have +been on nervous tension for months must be able to go there, and allow +their tired senses to drink in the feast of it all, so that they too may +go home and sleep. And in a sense their evening meant all this to Peter +and Julie; but only in a sense. + +They both of them bathed in the performance. The possible and impossible +scenes came and went in a bewildering variety, till one had the feeling +that one was asleep and dreaming the incomprehensible jumble of a dream, +and, as in a nice dream, one knew it was absurd, but did not care. The +magnificent, brilliant staging dazzled till one lay back in one's chair +and refused to name the colours to oneself or admire their blending any +more. The chorus-girls trooped on and off till they seemed countless, and +one abandoned any wish to pick the prettiest and follow her through. And +the gay palace of luxury, with its hundreds of splendidly dressed women, +its men in uniform, its height and width and gold and painting, and its +great arching roof, where, high above, the stirring of human hearts still +went on, took to itself an atmosphere and became sentient with humanity. + +Julie and Peter were both emotional and imaginative, and they were +spellbound till the notes of the National Anthem roused them. Then, with +the commonplaces of departure, they left the place. "It's so near," said +Julie in the crowd outside; "let's walk again." + +"The other pavement, then," said Peter, and they crossed. It was cold, +and Julie clung to him, and they walked swiftly. + +At the entrance Peter suggested an hour under the palms, but Julie +pleaded against it. "Why, dear?" she said. "It's so cosy upstairs, and we +have all we want. Besides, the lounge would be an anti-climax; let's go +up." + +They went up, and Julie dropped into her chair while Peter knelt to poke +the fire. Then he lit a cigarette, and she refused one for once, and he +stood there looking into the flame. + +Julie drew a deep sigh. "Wasn't it gorgeous, Peter?" she said. "I can't +help it, but I always feel I want it to go on for ever and ever. Did you +ever see _Kismet?_ That was worse even than this. I wanted to get up and +walk into the play. These modern things are too clever; you know they're +unreal, and yet they seem to be real. You know you're dreaming, but you +hate to wake up. I could let all that music and dancing and colour go on +round me till I floated away and away, for ever." + +Peter said nothing. He continued to stare into the fire. + +"What do you feel?" demanded Julie. + +Peter drew hard on his cigarette, and then he blew out the smoke. "I +don't know," he said. "Yes, I do," he added quickly; "I feel I want to +get up and preach a sermon." + +"Good Lord, Peter! what a dreadful sensation that must be! Don't begin +now, will you? I'm beginning to wish we'd gone into the lounge after all; +you surely couldn't have preached there." + +Peter did not smile. He went on as if she had not spoken, "Or write a +great novel, or, better still, a great play," he said. + +"What would be the subject, then, you Solomon, or the title, anyway?" + +"I don't know," said Peter dreamily. "_All Men are Grass_, _The Way of +all Flesh_--no, neither of those is good, and besides, one at least is +taken. I know," he added suddenly, "I would call it _Exchange_, that's +all. My word, Julie, I believe I could do it." He straightened himself, +and walked across the room and back again, once or twice. "I believe I +could: I feel it tingling in me; but it's all formless, if you +understand; I've no plot. It's just what I feel as I sit there in a +theatre, as we did just now." + +Julie leaned forward and took the cigarette she had just refused. She lit +it herself with a half-burnt match, and Peter stood and watched her, but +hardly saw what she was doing. She was as conscious of his preoccupation +as if it were something physical about him. + +"Explain, my dear," she said, leaning back and staring into the fire. + +"I don't know that I can," he replied, and she felt as if he did not +speak to her. "It's the bigness of it all, the beauty, the triumphant +success. It's drawn that great house full, lured them in, the thousands +of them, and it does so night after night. Tired people go there to be +refreshed, and sad people to be made gay, and people sick of life to +laugh and forget it. It's the world's big anodyne. It offers a great +exchange. And all for a few shillings, Julie, and for a few hours. The +sensation lingers, but one has to go again and again. It tricks one into +thinking, almost, that it's the real thing, that one can dance like +mayflies in the sun. Only, Julie, there comes an hour when down sinks the +sun, and what of the mayflies then?" + +Julie shifted her head ever so little. "Go on," she said, looking up +intently at him. + +He did not notice her, but her words roused him. He began to pace up and +down again, and her eyes followed him. "Why," he said excitedly, "don't +you see that it's a fraudulent exchange? It's a fraudulent exchange that +it offers, and it itself is an exchange as fraudulent as that which our +modern world is making. No, not our modern world only. We talk so big of +our modernity, when it's all less than the dust--this year's leaves, no +better than last year's, and fallen to-morrow. Rome offered the same +exchange, and even a better one, I think--the blood and lust and conflict +of the amphitheatre. But they're both exchanges, offered instead of the +great thing, the only great thing." + +"Which is, Peter?" + +"God, of course--Almighty God; Jesus, if you will, but I'm not in a mood +for the tenderness of that. It's God Himself Who offers tired and sad +people, and people sick of life, no anodyne, no mere rest, but stir and +fight and the thrill of things nobly done--nobly tried, Julie, even if +nobly failed. Can't you see it? And you and I to-night have been looking +at what the world offers--in exchange." + +He ceased and dropped into a chair the other side of the fire. A silence +fell on them. Then Julie gave a little shiver. "Peter, dear," she said +tenderly, "I'm a little tired and cold." + +He was up at once and bending over her. "My darling, what a beast I am! +I clean forgot you for a minute. What will you have? What about a hot +toddy? Shall I make one?" he demanded, smiling. "Donovan taught me how, +and I'm really rather good at it." + +She smiled back at him, and put her hand up to smooth his hair. "That +would be another exchange, Peter," she said, "and I don't want it. Only +one thing can warm me to-night and give me rest." + +He read what she meant in her eyes, and knelt beside the chair to put his +arms around her. She leaned her face on his shoulder, and returned the +kisses that he showered upon her. "Poor mayflies," she said to herself, +"how they love to dance in the sun!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Ever after that next day, the Saturday, will remain in Peter's memory as +a time by itself, of special significance, but a significance, except for +one incident, very hard to place. It began, indeed, very quietly, and +very happily. They breakfasted again in their own room, and Julie was +in one of her subdued moods, if one ever could say she was subdued. +Afterwards Peter lit a cigarette and strolled over to the window. "It's a +beastly day," he said, "cloudy, cold, windy, and going to rain, I think. +What shall we do? Snow up in the hotel all the time?" + +"No," said Julie emphatically, "something quite different. You shall show +me some of the real London sights, Westminster Abbey to begin with. Then +we'll drive along the Embankment and you shall tell me what everything +is, and we'll go and see anything else you suggest. I don't suppose +you realise, Peter, that I'm all but absolutely ignorant of London." + +He turned and smiled on her. "And you really _want_ to see these things?" +he said. + +"Yes, of course I do. You don't think I suggested it for your benefit? +But if it will make you any happier, I'll flatter you a bit. I want to +see those things now, with you, partly because I'm never likely to find +anyone who can show me them better. Now then. Aren't you pleased?" + +At that, then, they started. Westminster came first, and they wandered +all over it and saw as much as the conditions of war had left for the +public to see. It amused Peter to show Julie the things that seemed to +him to have a particular interest--the Chapter House, St. Faith's Chapel, +the tomb of the Confessor, and so on. She made odd comments. In St. +Faith's she said: "I don't say many prayers, Peter, but here I couldn't +say one." + +"Why not?" he demanded. + +"Because it's too private," she said quaintly. "I should think I was +pretending to be a saint if I went past everybody else and the vergers +and things into a little place like this all by myself. Everyone would +know that I was doing something which most people don't do. See? Why +don't people pray all over the church, as they do in France in a +cathedral, Peter?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Come on," he said; "your notions are all +topsy-turvy, Julie. Come and look at the monuments." + +They wandered down the transept, and observed the majesty of England in +stone, robed in togas, declaiming to the Almighty, and obviously +convinced that He would be intensely interested; or perhaps dying in the +arms of a semi-dressed female, with funeral urns or ships or cannon +in the background; or, at least in one case, crouching hopelessly, before +the dart of a triumphant death. Julie was certainly impressed, "They are +all like ancient Romans, Peter," she said, "and much more striking than +those Cardinals and Bishops and Kings, kneeling at prayer, in Rouen +Cathedral. But, still, they were _not_ ancient Romans, were they? They +were all Christians, I suppose. Is there a Christian monument anywhere +about?" + +"I don't know," said Peter, "but we'll walk round and see." + +They made a lengthy pilgrimage, and finally Peter arrested her. "Here's +one," he said. + +A Georgian Bishop in bas-relief looked down on them, fat and comfortable. +In front of him was a monstrous cup, and a plate piled with biggish +squares of stone. Julie did not realise what it was. "What's he doing +with all that lump-sugar?" she demanded. + +Peter was really a bit horrified. "You're an appalling pagan," he said. +"Come away!" And they came. + +They roamed along the Embankment. Julie was as curious as a child, and +wanted to know all about everything, from Boadicea, Cleopatra's Needle, +and the Temple Church, to Dewar's Whisky Works and the Hotel Cecil. +Thereabouts, Julie asked the name of the squat tower and old red-brick +buildings opposite, and when she heard it was Lambeth Palace instantly +demanded to visit it. Peter was doubtful if they could, but they crossed +to see, and they were shown a good deal by the courtesy of the +authorities. The Archbishop was away, to Peter's great relief, for as +likely as not Julie would have insisted on an introduction, but they +saw the chapel and the dining-hall amongst other things. The long line +of portraits fascinated her, but not as it fascinated Peter. The +significance of the change in the costumes of the portraits struck +him for the first time--first the cope and mitre and cross, then the +skull-cap and the tippet, then the balloon-sleeves and the wig, then the +coat and breeches and white cravat, then the academic robes, and then a +purple cassock. Its interest to Julie was other, however. "Peter," she +whispered, "perhaps you'll be there one day." + +He looked at her sharply, but she was not mocking him, and, marvelling at +her simplicity and honest innocence, he relaxed into a smile. "Not very +likely, my dear," he said. "In other days a pleasant underground cell in +the Lollards' Tower would have been more likely." + +Then, of course, Julie must see the famous tower, and see a little of it +they did. She wanted to know what Lollardy was; their guide attempted an +explanation. Julie was soon bored. "I can't see why people make such a +bother about such things," she said. "A man's religion is his own +business, surely, and he must settle it for himself. Don't you think so, +Peter?" + +"Is it his own business only?" he asked gravely. + +"Whose else should it be?" she demanded. + +"God's," said Peter simply. + +Julie stared at him and sighed. "You're very odd, Peter," she said, "but +you do say things that strike one as being true. Go on." + +"Oh, there's no more to say," said Peter, "except, perhaps, this: if +anyone or any Church honestly believed that God had committed His share +in the business to them--well, then he might justifiably feel that he or +it had a good deal to do with the settling of another man's religion. +Hence this tower, Julie, and as a matter of fact, my dear, hence me, past +and present. But come on." + +She took his arm with a little shiver which he was beginning to notice +from time to time in her. "It's a horrible idea, Peter," she said. "Yes, +let's go." + +So their taxi took them to Buckingham Palace and thereabouts, and by +chance they saw the King and Queen. Their Majesties drove by smartly in +morning dress with a couple of policemen ahead, and a few women waved +handkerchiefs, and Peter came to the salute, and Julie cheered. The Queen +turned towards where she was standing, and bowed, and Peter noticed, +amazed, that the eyes of the Colonial girl were wet, and that she did not +attempt to hide it. + +He had to question her. "I shouldn't have thought you'd have felt about +royalty like that, Julie," he said. + +"Well, I do," she said, "and I don't care what you say. Only I wish +they'd go about with the Life Guards. The King's a King to me. I suppose +he is only a man, but I don't want to think of him so. He stands for the +Empire and for the Flag, and he stands for England too. I'd obey that man +almost in anything, right or wrong, but I don't know that I'd obey anyone +else." + +"Then you're a survival of the Dark Ages," he said. + +"Don't be a beast!" said Julie. + +"All right, you're not, and indeed I don't know if I am right. Very +likely you're the very embodiment of the spirit of the Present Day. +Having lost every authority, you crave for one." + +Julie considered this. "There may be something in that," she said. "But I +don't like you when you're clever. It was the King, and that's enough for +me. And I don't want to see anything more. I'm hungry; take me to lunch." + +Peter laughed. "That's it," he said--"like the follower of Prince Charlie +who shook hands once with his Prince and then vowed he would never shake +hands with anyone again. So you've seen the King, and you won't see +anything else, only your impression won't last twelve hours, +fortunately." + +"I don't suppose the other man kept his vow," said Julie. "For one thing, +no man ever does. Come on!" + +And so they drifted down the hours until the evening theatre and +_Carminetta_. They said and did nothing in particular, but they just +enjoyed themselves. In point of fact, they were emotionally tired, and, +besides, they wanted to forget how the time sped by. The quiet day was, +in its own way too, a preparation for the evening feast, and they were +both in the mood to enjoy the piece intensely when it came. The +magnificence of the new theatre in which it was staged all helped. Its +wide, easy stairways, its many conveniences, its stupendous auditorium, +its packed house, ushered it well in. Even the audience seemed different +from that of last night. + +Julie settled herself with a sigh of satisfaction to listen and watch. +And they both grew silent as the opera proceeded. At first Julie could +not contain her delight. "Oh, she's perfect, Peter," she exclaimed--"a +little bit of life! Look how she shakes her hair back and how impudent +she is--just like one of those French girls you know too much about! And +she's boiling passion too. And a regular devil. I love her, Peter!" + +"She's very like you, Julie," said Peter. + +Julie flashed a look at him. "Rubbish!" she said, but was silent. + +They watched while Carminetta set herself to win her bet and steal the +heart of the hero from the Governor's daughter. They watched her force +the palace ballroom, and forgot the obvious foolishness of a great deal +of it in the sense of the drama that was being worked out. The whole +house grew still. The English girl, with her beauty, her civilisation, +her rank and place, made her appeal to her fiancé; and the Spanish +bastard dancer, with her daring, her passion, her naked humanity, so +coarse and so intensely human, made her appeal also. And they watched +while the young conventionally-bred officer hesitated; they watched till +Carminetta won. + +Julie, leaning forward, held her breath and gazed at the beautiful +fashionable room on the stage, gazed through the open French windows to +the moonlit garden and the night beyond, and gazed, though at last she +could hardly see, at the Spanish girl. That great renunciation held them +both entranced. So bitter-sweet, so humanly divine, the passionate, +heart-broken, heroic song of farewell, swelled and thrilled about them. +And with the last notes the child of the gutter reached up and up till +she made the supreme self-sacrifice, and stepped out of the gay room into +the dark night for the sake of the man she loved too much to love. + +Then Julie bowed her head into her hands, and in the silence and darkness +of their box burst into tears. And so, for the first and last time, Peter +heard her really weep. + +He said foolish man-things to comfort her. She looked up at last, +smiling, her brown eyes challengingly brave through her tears, "Peter, +forgive me," she said. "I shouldn't be such a damned fool! You never +thought I could be like that, did you? But it was so superbly done, +I couldn't help it. It's all over now--all over, Peter," she added +soberly. "I want to sit in the lounge to-night for a little, if you don't +mind. Could you possibly get a taxi? I don't want to walk." + +It was difficult to find one. Finally Peter and another officer +made a bolt simultaneously and each got hold of a door of a car that +was just coming up. Both claimed it, and the chauffeur looked round +good-humouredly at the disputants. "Settle it which-hever way you like, +gents," he said. "Hi don't care, but settle it soon." + +"Let's toss," said Peter. + +"Right-o," said the other man, and produced a coin. + +"Tails," whispered Julie behind Peter, and "Tails!" he called. + +The coin spun while the little crowd looked on in amusement, and tails it +was. "Damn!" said the other, and turned away. + +"A bad loser, Peter," said Julie; "and he's just been seeing +_Carminetta_, too! But am I not lucky! I almost always win." + +In the palm lounge Julie was very cheerful. "Coffee, Peter," she said, +"and liqueurs." + +"No drinks after nine-thirty," said the waiter. "Sorry, sir." + +Julie laughed. "I nearly swore, Peter," she said, "but I remembered in +time. If one can't get what one wants, one has to go without singing. But +I'll have a cigarette, not to say two, before we've finished. And I'm in +no hurry; I want to sit on here and pretend it's not Saturday night. And +I want to go very slowly to bed, and I don't want to sleep." + +"Is that the effect of the theatre?" asked Peter. "And why so different +from last night?" + +Julie evaded. "Don't you feel really different?" she demanded. + +"Yes," he said. + +"How?" + +"Well, I don't want to preach any sermon to-night. It's been preached." + +Julie drew hard on her cigarette, and blew out a cloud of smoke. "It has, +Peter," she said merrily, "and thank the Lord I am therefore spared +another." + +"You're very gay about it now, Julie, but you weren't at first. That play +made me feel rather miserable too. No, I think it made me feel small. +Carminetta was great, wasn't she? I don't know that there is anything +greater than that sort of sacrifice. And it's far beyond me," said Peter. + +Julie leaned back and hummed a bar or two that Peter recognised from the +last great song of the dancer. "Well, my dear, I was sad, wasn't I?" she +said. "But it's over. There's no use in sadness, is there?" + +Peter did not reply, and started as Julie suddenly laughed. "Oh, good +Lord, Peter!" she exclaimed, "to what _are_ you bringing me? Do you know +that I'm about to quote Scripture? And I damn-well shall if we sit on +here! Let's walk up Regent Street; I can't sit still. Come on." She +jumped up. + +"Just now," he said, "you wanted to sit still for ages, and now you want +to walk. What is the matter with you, Julie? And what was the text?" + +"That would be telling!" she laughed. "But can't I do anything I like, +Peter?" she demanded. "Can't I go and get drunk if I like, Peter, or sit +still, or dance down Regent Street, or send you off to bed and pick up a +nice boy? It would be easy enough here. Can't I, Peter?" + +Her mood bewildered him, and, without in the least understanding why, +he resented her levity. But he tried to hide it. "Of course you can," +he said lightly; "but you don't really want to do those things, do +you--especially the last, Julie?" + +She stood there looking at him, and then, in a moment, the excitement +died out of her voice and eyes. She dropped into a chair again. "No, +Peter," she said, "I don't. That's the marvel of it. I expect I shall, +one of these days, do most of those things, and the last as well, but I +don't think I'll ever _want_ to do them again. And that's what you've +done to me, my dear." + +Peter was very moved. He slipped his hand out and took hers under cover +of her dress. "My darling," he whispered, "I owe you everything. You +have given me all, and I won't hold back all from you. Do you remember, +Julie, that once I said I thought I loved you more than God? Well, I know +now--oh yes, I believe I do know now. But I choose you, Julie." + +Her eyes shone up at him very brightly, and he could not read them +altogether. But her lips whispered, and he thought he understood. + +"Oh, Peter, my dearest," she said, "thank God I have at least heard you +say that. I wouldn't have missed you saying those words for anything, +Peter." + +So might the serving-girl in Pilate's courtyard have been glad, had she +been in love. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Part at least of Julie's programme was fulfilled to the letter, for they +lay long in bed talking--desultory, reminiscent talk, which sent Peter's +mind back over the months and the last few days, even after Julie was +asleep in the bed next his. Like a pageant, he passed, in review scene +after scene, turning it over, and wondering at significances that he had +not before, imagined. He recalled their first meeting, that instantaneous +attraction, and he asked himself what had caused it. Her spontaneity, +freshness, and utter lack of conventionality, he supposed, but that did +not seem to explain all. He wondered at the change that had even then +come about in himself that he should have been so entranced by her, He +went over his early hopes and fears; he thought again of conversations +with Langton; and he realised afresh how true it was that the old +authorities had dwindled away; that no allegiance had been left; that his +had been a citadel without a master. And then Julie moved through his +days again--Julie at Caudebec, daring, iconoclastic, free; Julie at +Abbeville, mysterious, passionate, dominant; Julie at Dieppe--ah, Julie +at Dieppe! He marvelled that he had held out so long after Dieppe, and +then Louise rose before him. He understood Louise less than Julie, +perhaps, and with all the threads in his hand he failed to see the +pattern. He turned over restlessly. It was easy to see how they had come +to be in London; it would have been more remarkable if they had not so +come together; but now, what now? He could not sum up Julie amid the +shifting scenes of the last few days. She had been so loving, and yet, +in a way, their love had reached no climax. It had, indeed, reached what +he would once have thought a complete and ultimate climax, but plainly +Julie did not think so. And nor did he--now. The things of the spirit +were, after all, so much greater than the things of the flesh. The Julie +of Friday night had been his, but of this night...? He rolled over again. +What had she meant at the play? He told himself her tears were simple +emotion, her laughter simple reaction, but he knew it was not true.... + +And for himself? Well, Julie was Julie. He loved her intensely. She could +stir him to anything almost. He loved to be with her, to see her, to hear +her, but he did not feel satisfied. He knew that. He told himself that he +was an introspective fool; that nothing ever would seem to satisfy +him; that the centre of his life _was_ and would be Julie; that she was +real, tinglingly, intensely real; but he knew that that was not the last +word. And then and there he resolved that the last word should be spoken +on the morrow, that had, indeed, already come by the clock: she should +promise to marry him. + +He slept, perhaps, for an hour or two, but he awoke with the dawn. The +grey light was stealing in at the windows, and Julie slept beside him in +the bed between. He tried to sleep again, but could not, and, on a +sudden, had an idea. He got quietly out of bed. + +"What is it, Peter?" said Julie sleepily. + +He went round and leaned over her. "I can't sleep any more, dearest," he +said. "I think I'll dress and go for a bit of a walk. Do you mind? I'll +be in to breakfast." + +"No," she said. "Go if you want to. You are a restless old thing!" + +He dressed silently, and kept the bathroom door closed as he bathed and +shaved. She was asleep again as he stole out, one arm flung loosely on +the counterpane, her hair untidy on the pillow. He kissed a lock of it, +and let himself quietly out of their suite. + +It was still very early, and the Circus looked empty and strange. He +walked down Piccadilly, and wondered at the clean, soft touch of the +dawning day, and recalled another memorable Sunday morning walk. He +passed very familiar places, and was conscious of feeling an exile, an +inevitable one, but none the less an exile, for all that. And so he came +into St. James's Park, still as aimlessly as he had left the hotel. + +Before him, clear as a pointing finger in the morning sky, was the +campanile of that stranger among the great cathedrals of England. It +attracted him for the first time, and he made all but unconsciously +towards it, Peter was not even in the spiritual street that leads to the +gates of the Catholic Church, and it was no incipient Romanism that moved +him. He was completely ignorant of the greater part of that faith, and, +still more, had no idea of the gulf that separates it from all other +religions. He would have supposed, if he had stopped to think, that, as +with other sects, one considered its tenets, made up one's mind as to +their truth or falsehood one by one, and if one believed a sufficient +majority of them joined the Church. It was only, then, the mood of the +moment, and when, he found himself really moving towards that finger-post +he excused himself by thinking that as he was, by his own act, exiled, +from, more familiar temples, he would visit this that would have about it +a suggestion of France. + +He wondered if it would be open as he turned into Ashley Gardens. He +glanced at his watch; it was only just after seven. Perhaps an early Mass +might be beginning. He went to the central doors and found them fast; +then he saw little groups of people and individuals like himself making +for the door in the great tower, and these he followed within. + +He stood amazed for a few minutes. The vast soaring space, so austere in +its bare brick, gripped his imagination. The white and red and gold of +the painted Christ that hung so high and monstrous before the entrance to +the marbles of the sanctuary almost troubled him. It dominated everything +so completely that he felt he could not escape it. He sought one of the +many chairs and knelt down. + +A little bell tinkled, Peter glanced sideways towards the sound, and +saw that a Mass was in progress in a side-chapel of gleaming mosaics, +and that a soldier in uniform served. Hardly had he taken the details +in, when another bell claimed his attention. It came from across the +wide nave, and he perceived that another chapel had its Mass, and a +considerable congregation. And then, his attention aroused, he began to +spy about and to take in the thing. + +The whole vast cathedral was, as it were, alive. Seven or eight Masses +were in progress. One would scarcely finish before another priest, +preceded by soldier in uniform or server in cassock and cotta, would +appear from beyond the great pulpit and make his way to yet another +altar. The small handbells rang out again and again and again, and still +priest after priest was there to take his place. Peter began cautiously +to move about. He became amazed at the size of the congregation. They had +been lost in that great place, but every chapel had its people, and there +were, in reality, hundreds scattered about in the nave alone. + +He knelt for awhile and watched the giving of Communion in the guarded +chapel to the north of the high altar. Its gold and emblazoned gates were +not for him, but he could at least kneel and watch those who passed in +and out. They were of all sorts and classes, of all ranks and ages; men, +women, children, old and young, rich and poor, soldier and civilian, +streamed in and out again. Peter sighed and left them. He found an altar +at which Mass was about to begin, and he knelt at the back on a mosaic +pavement in which fishes and strange beasts were set in a marble stream, +and watched. And it was not one Mass that he watched, but two or three, +and it was there that a vision grew on his inner understanding, as he +knelt and could not pray. + +It is hard and deceptive to write of those subconscious imaginings that +convict the souls of most men some time or another. In that condition +things are largely what we fashion them to be, and one may be thought to +be asserting their ultimate truth in speaking of their influence. But +there is no escaping from the fact that Peter Graham of a lost allegiance +began that Sunday morning to be aware of another claimant. And this is +what dawned upon him, and how. + +A French memory gave him a starting-point. Here, at these Low Masses, it +was more abundantly plain than ever that these priests did not conceive +themselves to be serving a congregation, but an altar. One after the +other they moved through a ritual, and spoke low sentences that hardly +reached him, with their eyes holden by that which they did. At first he +was only conscious of this, but then he perceived the essential change +that came over each in his turn. The posturing and speaking was but +introductory to the moment when they raised the Host and knelt before it. +It was as if they were but functionaries ushering in a King, and then +effacing themselves before Him. + +Here, then, the Old Testament of Peter's past became to him a +schoolmaster. He heard himself repeating again the comfortable words of +the Prayer-Book service: "Come unto Me...." "God so loved...." "If any +man sin...." Louise's hot declaration forced itself upon him: "It is He +Who is there." And it was then that the eyes of his mind were enlightened +and he saw a vision--not, indeed, of the truth of the Roman Mass (if it +be true), and not of the place of the Sacrament in the Divine scheme of +things, but the conception of a love so great that it shook him as if +it were a storm, and bowed him before it as if he were a reed. + +The silent, waiting Jesus.... All these centuries, in every land.... How +He had been mocked, forgotten, spurned, derided, denied, cast out; and +still He waited. Prostitutes of the streets, pardoned in a word, advanced +towards Him, and He knew that so shortly again, within the secret place +of their hearts, He would be crucified; but still He waited. Careless +men, doubtless passion-mastered, came up to Him, and He knew the sort +that came; but still He waited. He, Peter, who had not known He was here +at all, and who had gone wandering off in search of any mistress, spent +many days, turned in by chance, and found Him here. What did He wait for? +Nothing; there was nothing that anyone could give, nothing but a load of +shame, the offering of a body spent by passionate days, the kiss of +traitor-lips; but still He waited. He did more than wait. He offered +Himself to it all. He had bound Himself by an oath to be kissed if Judas +planned to kiss Him, and He came through the trees to that bridal with +the dawn of every day. He had foreseen the chalice, foreseen that it +would be filled at every moon and every sun by the bitter gall of +ingratitude and wantonness and hate, but He had pledged Himself--"Even +so, Father"--and He was here to drink it. Small wonder, then, that the +paving on which Peter Graham knelt seemed to swim before his eyes until +it was in truth a moving ocean of love that streamed from the altar and +enclosed of every kind, and even him. + +The movement of chairs and the gathering of a bigger congregation than +usual near a chapel that Peter perceived to be for the dead aroused him. +He got up to go. He walked quickly up Victoria Street, and marvelled over +the scene he had left. In sight of Big Ben he glanced up--twenty to nine! +He had been, then, an hour and a half in the cathedral. He recalled +having read that a Mass took half an hour, and he began to reckon how +many persons had heard Mass even while he had been there. Not less than +five hundred at every half-hour, and most probably more. Fifteen hundred +to two thousand souls, of every sort and kind, then, had been drawn in to +that all but silent ceremony, to that showing of Jesus crucified. A +multitude--and what compassion! + +Thus he walked home, thinking of many things, but the vision he had seen +was uppermost and would not be displaced. It was still in his eyes as he +entered their bedroom and found Julie looking at a magazine as she lay in +bed, smoking a cigarette. + +"Lor', Peter, are you back? I suppose I ought to be up, but I was so +sleepy. What's the time? Why, what's the matter? Where have you been?" + +Peter did not go over to her at once as she had expected. It was not that +he felt he could not, or anything like that, but simply that he was only +thinking of her in a secondary way. He walked to the dressing-table and +lifted the flowers she had worn the night before and put there in a +little glass. + +"Where have you been, old Solomon?" demanded Julie again. + +"Seeing wonders, Julie," said Peter, looking dreamily at the blossoms. + +"No? Really? What? Do tell me. If it was anything I might have seen, you +were a beast not to come back for me, d'you hear?" + +Peter turned and stared at her, but she knew as he looked that he hardly +saw her. Her tone changed, and she made a little movement with her hand, +"Tell me, Peter," she said again. + +"I've seen," said Peter slowly, "a bigger thing than I thought the world +could hold, I've seen something so wonderful, Julie, that it hurt--oh, +more than I can say. I've seen Love, Julie." + +She could not help it. It was a foolish thing to say just then, she knew, +but it came out. "Oh, Peter," she said, "did you have to leave me to see +that?" + +"Leave you?" he questioned, and for a moment so lost in his thought was +he that he did not understand what she meant. Then it dawned on him, and +he smiled. He did not see as he stood there, the clumsy Peter, how the +two were related. So he smiled, and he came over to her, and took her +hand, and sat on the bed, his eyes still full of light. "Oh, you've +nothing to do with it," he said. "It's far bigger than you or I, Julie. +Our love is like a candle held up to the sun beside it. Our love wants +something, doesn't it? It burns, it--it intoxicates, Julie. But this love +waits, _waits_, do you understand? It asks nothing; it gives, it suffices +all. Year after year it just waits, Julie, waits for anyone, waits for +everyone. And you can spurn it, spit on it, crucify it, and it is still +there when you--need, Julie." And Peter leaned forward, and buried his +face in her little hand. + +Julie heard him through, and it was well that before the end he did not +see her eyes. Then she moved her other hand which held the half-burnt +cigarette and dropped the smoking end (so that it made a little hiss) +into her teacup on the glass-topped table, and brought her hand back, and +caressed his hair as he lay bent forward there. "Dear old Peter," she +said tenderly, "how he thinks things! And when you saw this--this love, +Peter, how did you feel?" + +He did not answer for a minute, and when he did he did not raise his +head. "Oh, I don't know, Julie," he said. "It went through and through +me. It was like a big sea, and it flooded me away. It filled me. I seemed +to drink it in at every pore. I felt satisfied just to be there." + +"And then you came back to Julie, eh, Peter?" she questioned. + +"Why, of course," he said, sitting up with a smile. "Why not?" He gave a +little laugh. "Why, Julie," he said, "I never thought of that before. I +suppose I ought to have been--oh, I don't know, but our days together +didn't seem to make any difference. That Love was too big. It seemed +to me to be too big to be--well, jealous, I suppose." + +She nodded. "That would be just it, Peter. That's how it would seem +to you. You see, I know. It's strange, my dear, but I don't feel +either--jealous." + +He frowned. "What do you mean?" he said. "Don't you understand? It was +God's Love that I saw." + +She hesitated a second, and then her face relaxed into a smile. "You're +as blind as a bat, my dear, but I suppose all men are, and so you can't +help it. Now go and ring for breakfast and smoke a cigarette in the +sitting-room while I dress." And Peter, because he hated to be called a +bat and did not feel in the least like one, went. + +He rang the bell, and the maid answered it. She did not wait for him to +give his order, but advanced towards him, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, sir," +she said, "is madame up? I don't know how to thank her, and you too. I've +wanted a frame for Jack's picture, but I couldn't get a real good one, +I couldn't. When I sees this parcel I couldn't think _what_ it was. I +forgot even as how I'd give the lady my name. Oh, she's the real good +one, she is. You'll forgive me, sir, but I know a real lady when I see +one. They haven't got no airs, and they know what a girl feels like, +right away. I put Jack in it, sir, on me table, and if there's anything +I can do for you or your lady, now or ever, I'll do it, sir." + +Peter smiled at the little outburst, but his heart warmed within him. How +just like Julie it was! "Well," he said, "it's the lady you've really to +thank. Knock, if you like; I expect she'll let you in. And then order +breakfast, will you? Bacon and eggs and some fish. Thanks." And he turned +away. + +She made for the door, but stopped, "I near forgot, sir," she said. "A +gentleman left this for you last night, and they give it to me at the +office--this morning. There was no answer, he said. He went by this +morning's train." She handed Peter an unstamped envelope bearing the +hotel's name, and left the room as he opened it. He did not recognise +the handwriting, but he tore it open and glanced at once at the +signature, and got a very considerable surprise, not to say a shock. +It was signed "Jack Donovan." + +"MY DEAR GRAHAM, [the letter ran], + +"Forgive me for writing, but I must tell you that I've seen you twice +with Julie (and each time neither of you saw anyone else but +yourselves!). It seems mean to see you and not say so, but for the Lord's +sake don't think it'll go further, or that I reproach you. I've been +there myself, old bird, and in any case I don't worry about other +people's shows. But I want to tell you a bit of news--Tommy Raynard and I +have fixed it up. I know you'll congratulate me. She's topping, and just +the girl for me--no end wiser than I, and as jolly as anyone, really. I +don't know how you and Julie are coming out of it, and I won't guess, for +it's a dreadful war; but maybe you'll be able to sympathise with me at +having to leave _my_ girl in France! However, I'm off back to-morrow, a +day before you. If you hadn't run off to Paris, you'd have known. My +leave order was from Havre. + +"Well, cheerio. See you before long. And just one word, my boy, from a +fellow who has seen a bit more than you (if you'll forgive me): remember, +_Julie'll know best_. + +"Yours, ever, +"JACK DONOVAN." + +Peter frowned over his letter, and then smiled, and then frowned again. +He was still at it when he heard Julie's footstep outside, and he thrust +the envelope quickly into his pocket, thinking rapidly. He did not in the +least understand what the other meant, especially by the last sentence, +and he wanted to consider it before showing Julie. Also, he wondered +if it was meant to be shown to Julie at all. He thought not; probably +Donovan was absolutely as good as his word, and would not even mention +anything to Tommy. But he thought no more, for Julie was on him. + +"Peter, it's started to rain! I knew it would. Why does it always rain on +Sundays in London? Probably the heavens themselves weep at the sight of +so gloomy a city. However, I don't care a damn! I've made up my mind what +we're going to do. We shall sit in front of the fire all the morning, +and you shall read to me. Will you?" + +"Anything you like, my darling," he said; "and we couldn't spend a better +morning. But bacon and eggs first, eh? No, fish first, I mean. But pour +out a cup of tea at once, for Heaven's sake. _I_ haven't had a drop this +morning." + +"Poor old thing! No wonder you're a bit off colour. No early tea after +that champagne last night! But, oh, Peter, wasn't _Carminetta_ a dream?" + +Breakfast over, Peter sat in a chair and bent over her. "What do you want +me to read, Julie darling?" he demanded. + +She considered. "_Not_ a magazine, _not La Vie Parisienne_, though we +might perhaps look at the pictures part of the time. I know! Stop! I'll +get it," She ran out and returned with a little leather-covered book. +"Read it right through, Peter," she said. "I've read it heaps of times, +but I want to hear it again to-day. Do you mind?" + +"Omar Khayyám!" exclaimed Peter. "Good idea! He's a blasphemous old +pagan, but the verse is glorious and it fits in at times. Do you want me +to start at once?" + +"Give me a cigarette! no, put the box there. Stir up the fire. Come and +sit on the floor with your back to me. That's right. Now fire away." + +She leaned back and he began. He read for the rhythm; she listened for +the meaning. He read to the end; she hardly heard more than a stanza: + +"Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! +One thing at least is certain--_this_ Life flies; +One thing is certain, and the rest is lies-- +The flower that once has blown for ever dies." + +They lunched in the hotel, and at the table Peter put the first necessary +questions that they both dreaded. "I'm going to tell them to make out my +bill, Julie," he said. "I've to be at Victoria at seven-thirty a.m. +to-morrow, you know. You've still got some leave, haven't you, dear; what +are you going to do? How long will you stay on here?" + +"Not after you've gone, Peter," she said. "Let them make it out for me +till after breakfast to-morrow." + +"But what are we going to do?" he demanded. + +"Oh, don't ask. It spoils to-day to think of to-morrow. Go to my friends, +perhaps--yes, I think that. It's only for a few days now." + +"Oh, Julie, I wish I could stay." + +"So do I, but you can't, so don't worry. What about this afternoon?" + +"If it's stopped raining, let's go for a walk, shall we?" + +They settled on that, and it was Julie who took him again to St. James's +Park. As they walked: "Where did you go to church this morning, Peter?" +she asked. + +He pointed to the campanile. "Over there," he said. + +"Then let's go together to-night," she said. + +"Do you mean it, Julie?" + +"Of course I do. I'm curious. Besides, it's Sunday, and I want to go to +church." + +"But you'll miss dinner," objected Peter. "It begins at six-thirty." + +"Well, let's get some food out--Victoria Station, for instance. Won't +that do? We can have some supper sent up afterwards in the hotel." + +Peter agreed, but they did not go to the station. In a little cafe +outside Julie saw a South African private eating eggs and bacon, and +nothing would do but that they must do the same. So they went in. They +ate off thick plates, and Julie dropped the china pepper-pot on her eggs +and generally behaved as if she were at a school-treat. But it was a +novelty, and it kept their thoughts off the fact that it was the last +night. And finally they went to church. + +The service did not impress Peter, and every time he looked at Julie's +face he wanted to laugh; but the atmosphere of the place did, though he +could not catch the impression of the morning. For the sermon, a +stoutish, foreign-looking ecclesiastic mounted the pulpit, and they both +prepared to be bored. However, he gave out his text, and Peter sat bolt +upright at once. It would have delighted the ears of his Wesleyan +corporal of the Forestry; and more than that it was the text he had +quoted in the ears of the dying Jenks. He prepared keenly to listen. As +for Julie, she was regarding the altar with a far-away look in her eyes, +and she scarcely moved the whole time. + +Outside, as soon as they were out of the crowd, Peter began at once. + +"Julie," he said, "whatever did you think of that sermon?" + +"What did you?" she said. "Tell me first." + +"I don't believe you listened at all, but I can't help talking of it. It +was amazing. He began by speaking about Adam and Eve and original sin and +the Garden of Eden as if he'd been there. There might never have been a +Higher Critic in existence. Then he said what sin did, and that sin was +only truly sin if it did do that. _That_ was to hide the face of God, to +put Him and a human being absolutely out of communication, so to speak. +And then he came to Christ, to the Cross. Did you hear him, Julie? Christ +comes in between--He got in between God and man. All the anger that +darted out of God against sin hit Him; all the blows that man struck back +against God hit Him. Do you see that, Julie? That was wonderfully put, +but the end was more wonderful. Both, ultimately, cannot kill the Heart +of Jesus. There's no sin there to merit or to feel the anger, and we can +hurt, but we can't destroy His love." + +Peter stopped, "That's what I saw a little this morning," he said after a +minute. + +"Well?" said Julie. + +"Oh, it's all so plain! If there was a way to that Heart, one would be +safe. I mean, a way that is not an emotional idea, not a subjective +experience, but something practical. Some way that a Tommy could travel, +as easily as anyone, and get to a real thing. And he said there was a +way, and just sketched it, the Sacraments--more than ours, of course, +their seven, all of them more or less, I suppose. He meant that the +Sacraments were not signs of salvation, but salvation itself. Julie, I +never saw the idea before. It's colossal. It's a thing to which one might +dedicate one's life. It's a thing to live and die gladly for. It fills +one. Don't you think so, Julie?" He spoke exultantly. + +"Peter, to be honest," said Julie, "I think you're talking fanatical +rubbish." + +"Do you really, Julie? You can't, _surely_ you can't." + +"But I do, Peter," she said sadly; "it makes no appeal to me. I can only +see one great thing in life, and it's not that. 'The rest is lies,' But, +oh! surely that great thing might not be false too. But why do you see +one thing, and I another, my dear?" + +"I don't know," said Peter, "unless--well, perhaps it's a kind of gift, +Julie, 'If thou knewest the gift of God...' Not that I know, only I can +just see a great wonderful vision, and it fills my sight." + +"I, too," she said; "but it's not your vision." + +"What is it, then?" said he, carried away by his own ideas and hardly +thinking of her. + +Her voice brought him back. "Oh, Peter, don't you know even yet?" + +He took her arm very tenderly at that. "My darling," he said, "the two +aren't incompatible. Julie, don't be sad. I love you; you know I love +you. I wish we'd never gone to the place if you think I don't, but I +haven't changed towards you a bit, Julie. I love you far, far more than +anyone else. I won't give you up, even to God!" + +It was dark where they were. Julie lifted her face to him just there. He +thought he had never heard her speak as she spoke now, there, in a London +street, under the night sky. "Peter, my darling," she said, "my brave +boy. How I love you, Peter! I know _you_ won't give me up, Peter, and I +adore you for it. Peter, hell will be heaven with the memory of that!" +There, then, he sealed her with his kiss. + + * * * * * + +Julie stirred in his arms, but the movement did not wake him any more +than the knock of the door had done. "All right," she called. "Thank +you," and, leaning over, she switched on the light. It was 5.30, and +necessary. In its radiance she bent over him, and none of her friends had +ever seen her look as she did then. She kissed him, and he opened his +eyes. + +"Half-past five, Peter," she said, as gaily as she could. "You've got to +get a move on, my dear. Two hours to dress and pack and breakfast--no, I +suppose you can do that on the train. But you've got to get there. Oh, +Lord, how it brings the war home, doesn't it? Jump up!" + +Peter sighed. "Blast the war!" he said lazily. "I shan't move. Kiss me +again, you darling, and let your hair fall over my face." + +She did so, and its glossy curtain hid them. Beneath the veil she +whispered; "Come, darling, for my sake. The longer you stay here now, +the harder it will be." + +He threw his arms round her, and then jumped out of bed yawning. + +"That's it," she said. "Now go and shave and bath while I pack for you. +Hurry up; then we'll get more time." + +While he splashed about she sought for his things, and packed for him as +she never packed for herself. As she gathered them she thought of the +night before, when, overwhelmed in a tempest of love, it had all been +left for the morning. She filled the suit-case, but she could not fasten +it. + +"Come and help, Peter," she called. + +He came out. She was kneeling on it in her loose kimono, her hair all +about her, her nightdress open at the throat. He drank her beauty in, and +then mastered himself for a minute and shut the case. "That all?" she +queried. + +"Yes," he said. "You get back into bed, my darling, or you'll catch cold. +I'll be ready in a second, and then we can have a few minutes together." + +At the glass he marshalled his arguments, and then he came over to her. +He dropped by the bedside and wound his arms about her. "Julie," he +whispered, "my darling, say you'll marry me--please, _please_!" + +She made no reply. He kissed her, unresisting, again and again. + +"Julie," he said, "you know how I love you. You do know it. You know +I'm not begging you to marry me because I've got something out of +you, perhaps when you were carried away, and now I feel I must make +reparation. My darling, it isn't that. I love you so much that I can't +live without you. I'll give up everything for you. I want to start a new +life with you. I can't go back to the old, anyhow; I don't want to: it's +a sham to me now, and I hate shams--you know I do. But you're not a sham; +our love isn't a sham. I'd die for you, Julie, my own Julie; I'd die for +the least little bit of this hair of yours, I think! But I want to live +for you. I want to put you right in the centre of everything, and live +for you, Julie. Say 'Yes,' my love, my own. You must say 'Yes,' Why don't +you, Julie?" + +And still she made no reply. + +A kind of despair seized him. "Oh, Julie," he cried, "what can I say or +what can I do? You're cruel, Julie; you're killing me! You _must_ say +'Yes' before I go. We'll meet in Havre, I know; but that will be so +different. I must have my answer now. Oh, my darling, please, please, +speak! You love me, Julie, don't you?" + +"Peter," said Julie slowly, "I love you so much that I hardly dare speak, +lest my love should carry me away. But listen, my dear, listen. Peter, +I've watched you these days; I've watched you in France. I've watched you +from the moment when I called you over to me because I was interested +and felt my fate, I suppose. I've watched you struggling along, Peter, +and I understand why you've struggled. You're built for great things, my +dear--how great I can't see and I can't even understand. No, Peter, I +can't even understand--that's part of the tragedy of it. Peter, I love +you so that my love for you _is_ my centre, it's my all in all, it's my +hope of salvation, Peter. Do you hear, my darling?--my love, it's my one +hope! If I can't keep that pure and clean, Peter, I ruin both of us. I +love you so, Peter, that I won't marry you!" + +He gave a little cry, but swiftly she put a hand over his mouth. She +smiled at him as she did so, a daring little smile. "Be quiet, you +Solomon, you," she said; "I haven't finished. There! Now listen again, +Peter: you can't help it, but you can't love me as I love you. I see it. +I--I hate it, I think; but I know it, and there's an end. You, my dear, +you _would put me_ in the centre, but you can't. I can't put _you_ out of +_my_ centre, Peter. You _would_ give up God for me, Peter, but you can't, +or if you did, you'd lose us both. But I, Peter--oh, my darling, I have +no god but you. And that's why I'll worship you, Peter, and sacrifice to +you, Peter, sacrifice to your only ultimate happiness, Peter, and +sacrifice my all." + +He tried to speak, but he could not. The past days lay before him in a +clear light at last. Her love shone on them, and shone too plainly for +mistake. He tried to deny, but he couldn't; contradict, but his heart +cried the truth, and his eyes could not hide it. But he could and did +vent his passion. "Damn God! Curse Him!" he cried. "I hate Him! Why +should He master me? I want you, Julie; I will have you; I will worship +_you_, Julie!" + +She let him speak; and, being Julie, his words only brought a more tender +light into her face. "Peter," she said, "one minute. Do you remember +where you first kissed me, my darling?--the first real kiss, I mean," and +her eyes sparkled with fun even then. "You know--ah, I see you do! You +will never forget that, will you? Perhaps you thought I didn't notice, +but I did. Neither you nor I chose it; it was Fate; perhaps it was your +God, Peter. But, anyway, look at me now as you looked then. What do you +see?" + +He stared at her, and he saw--how clearly he saw! Her sweet back-bent +head, her shining eyes, the lamp-light falling on her hair out of the +night. He even heard the sea as it beat on the stones of the quay--or +thought he did--and felt the whip of the wind. And behind her, +dominating, arms outspread, the harbour crucifix. And she saw that he +saw, and she whispered: "_Do_ you hate Him, Peter?" And he sank his head +into her hands and sobbed great dry sobs. + +"Ah, don't, don't," he heard her say--"don't Peter! It's not so bad as +that. Your life is going to be full, my beloved, with a great and burning +love; and you were right this morning, Peter, more right than you knew. +When that is there you will have place even for me--yes, even for me, the +love of what you will call your sin. And I, my dear, dear boy, I have +something even now which no devil, Peter, and no god can take away." + +He looked up. "Then there's a chance, Julie. You won't say 'Yes,' but +don't say 'No.' Let us see. I shall take no vows, Julie. I haven't an +idea what I shall do, and maybe it won't be quite as you think, and there +will be a little room for you one day. Oh, say you'll wait a while, +Julie, just to see!" + +It was the supreme moment. She saw no crucifix to sustain her, but she +did see the bastard Spanish dancing-girl. And she did not hesitate. "No, +Peter," she said, "I would not take that, and you never could give it. I +did not mean such place as that. It never can be, Peter; you are not +made for me." + +And thus did Julie, who knew no God, but Julie of the brave, clean, +steadfast heart, give Peter to Him. + + * * * * * + +The maid came in answer to her ring. "Will you light a fire, please?" +said Julie. "I suppose Captain Graham has gone?" + +"Yes, mam, he's gone, and he felt it terrible, I could see. But don't you +fear, mam, he'll be kept, I know he will. You're that good, he'll come +back to you, never fear. But it's 'ard on those they leave, ain't it, +mam?--their wives an' all." + +"Yes," said Julie, and she never spoke more bravely. "But it's got to be, +hasn't it? Would you pull the blind up? Ah, thanks; why, it's sunny! I'm +so glad. It will be good for the crossing." + +"It will be that, 'm. We gets the sun first up here. Shall I bring up the +tea, madame?" + +"I'll ring," said Julie, "when I want it. It won't be for a few minutes +yet." + +The girl went out, and the door shut behind her. Julie lay on still for a +little, and then she got up. She walked to the window and looked out, and +she threw her arms wide with a gesture, and shut her eyes, and let the +sun fall on her. Then she walked to her little trunk, and rummaged in it. +From somewhere far down she drew out a leather case, and with it in her +hand she went over and sat by the fire. She held it without moving for a +minute, and then she slowly opened it. One by one she drew out a few +worthless things--a withered bunch of primroses, a couple of little +scribbled notes, a paper cap from a cracker, a menu card, a handkerchief +of her own that she had lent to him, and that he (just like Peter) had +given back. She held them all in her hand a minute, and then she bent +forward and dropped them in the open fire. + +And the sun rose a little higher, and fell on the tumbled brown hair that +Peter had kissed and that now hid her eyes. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Simon Called Peter, by Robert Keable + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14579 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8eac6dd --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14579 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14579) diff --git a/old/14579-8.txt b/old/14579-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf3e2f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14579-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12400 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Simon Called Peter, by Robert Keable + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Simon Called Peter + +Author: Robert Keable + +Release Date: January 3, 2005 [EBook #14579] +Last updated: June 29, 2013 +Last updated: August 25, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIMON CALLED PETER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + SIMON CALLED PETER + + BY ROBERT KEABLE + + AUTHOR OF "THE DRIFT OF PINIONS," "STANDING BY," ETC. + + 1921 + + + + +THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO JULIE + +She never lived, maybe, but it is truer to say that she never dies. Nor +shall she ever die. One may believe in God, though He is hard to find, +and in Women, though such as Julie are far to seek. + + + + +THE AUTHOR TO THE READER + + +The glamour of no other evil thing is stronger than the glamour of war. +It would seem as if the cup of the world's sorrow as a result of war had +been filled to the brim again and again, but still a new generation has +always been found to forget. A new generation has always been found to +talk of the heroisms that the divine in us can manifest in the mouth of +hell and to forget that so great a miracle does not justify our creation +of the circumstance. + +Yet if ever war came near to its final condemnation it was in 1914-1918. +Our comrades died bravely, and we had been willing to die, to put an end +to it once and for all. Indeed war-weary men heard the noise of conflict +die away on November 11, 1918, thinking that that end had been attained. +It is not yet three years ago; a little time, but long enough for +betrayal. + +Long enough, too, for the making of many books about it all, wherein has +been recorded such heroisms as might make God proud and such horror as +might make the Devil weep. Yet has the truth been told, after all? Has +the world realized that in a modern war a nation but moves in uniform to +perform its ordinary tasks in a new intoxicating atmosphere? Now and +again a small percentage of the whole is flung into the pit, and, for +them, where one in ten was heavy slaughter, now one in ten is reasonable +escape. The rest, for the greater part of the time, live an unnatural +life, death near enough to make them reckless and far enough to make them +gay. Commonly men and women more or less restrain themselves because of +to-morrow; but what if there be no to-morrow? What if the dice are heavily +weighted against it? And what of their already jeoparded restraint when +the crisis has thrown the conventions to the winds and there is little +to lighten the end of the day? + +Thus to lift the veil on life behind the lines in time of war is a +thankless task. The stay-at-homes will not believe, and particularly +they whose smug respectability and conventional religion has been put +to no such fiery trial. Moreover they will do more than disbelieve; they +will say that the story is not fit to be told. Nor is it. But then it +should never have been lived. That very respectability, that very +conventionality, that very contented backboneless religion made it +possible--all but made it necessary. For it was those things which +allowed the world to drift into the war, and what the war was nine days +out of ten ought to be thrust under the eyes of those who will not +believe. It is a small thing that men die in battle, for a man has but +one life to live and it is good to give it for one's friends; but it is +such an evil that it has no like, this drifting of a world into a hell to +which men's souls are driven like red maple leaves before the autumn +wind. + +The old-fashioned pious books made hell stink of brimstone and painted +the Devil hideous. But Satan is not such a fool. Champagne and Martinis +do not taste like Gregory powder, nor was St. Anthony tempted by +shrivelled hags. Paganism can be gay, and passion look like love. +Moreover, still more truly, Christ could see the potentiality of virtue +in Mary Magdalene and of strength in Simon called Peter. The conventional +religious world does not. + +A curious feature, too, of that strange life was its lack of +consecutiveness. It was like the pages of _La Vie Parisienne_. The friend +of to-day was gone for ever to-morrow. A man arrived, weary and dirty and +craving for excitement, in some unknown town; in half an hour he had +stepped into the gay glitter of wine and women's smiles; in half a dozen +he had been whirled away. The days lingered and yet flew; the pages were +twirled ever more dazzlingly; only at the end men saw in a blinding flash +whither they had been led. + +These things, then, are set out in this book. This is its atmosphere. +They are truly set out. They are not white-washed; still less are they +pictured as men might have seen them in more sober moments, as the +Puritan world would see them now. Nor does the book set forth the +author's judgment, for that is not his idea of a novel. It sets out +what Peter and Julie saw and did, and what it appeared to them to be +while they did it. Very probably, then, the average reader had better +read no further than this.... + +But at any rate let him not read further than is written. The last page +has been left blank. It has been left blank for a reason, because the +curtain falls not on the conclusion of the lives of those who have +stepped upon the boards, but at a psychological moment in their story. +The Lord has turned to look upon Peter, and Julie has seen that He has +looked. It is enough; they were happy who, going down into the Valley of +the Shadow of Death, saw a vision of God's love even there. For the +Christ of Calvary moved to His Cross again but a few short years ago; and +it is enough in one book to tell how Simon failed to follow, but how +Jesus turned to look on Peter. + +R.K. + + + + +PART I + + Ah! is Thy love indeed +A weed, albeit an amaranthine weed, +Suffering no flowers except its own to mount? + Ah! must-- + Designer infinite!-- +Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it? + +FRANCIS THOMPSON. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +London lay as if washed with water-colour that Sunday morning, light blue +sky and pale dancing sunlight wooing the begrimed stones of Westminster +like a young girl with an old lover. The empty streets, clean-swept, were +bathed in the light, and appeared to be transformed from the streets of +week-day life. Yet the half of Londoners lay late abed, perhaps because +six mornings a week of reality made them care little for one of magic. + +Peter, nevertheless, saw little of this beauty. He walked swiftly as +always, and he looked about him, but he noticed none of these things. +True, a fluttering sheet of newspaper headlines impaled on the railings +of St. Margaret's held him for a second, but that was because its message +was the one that rang continually in his head, and had nothing at all to +do with the beauty of things that he passed by. + +He was a perfectly dressed young man, in a frock coat and silk hat of the +London clergyman, and he was on his way to preach at St. John's at the +morning service. Walking always helped him to prepare his sermons, and +this sermon would ordinarily have struck him as one well worth preparing. +The pulpit of St. John's marked a rung up in the ladder for him. That +great fashionable church of mid-Victorian faith and manners held a +congregation on Sunday mornings for which the Rector catered with care. +It said a good deal for Peter that he had been invited to preach. He +ought to have had his determined scheme plain before him, and a few +sentences, carefully polished, at hand for the beginning and the end. He +could trust himself in the middle, and was perfectly conscious of that. +He frankly liked preaching, liked it not merely as an actor loves to sway +his audience, but liked it because he always knew what to say, and was +really keen that people should see his argument. And yet this morning, +when he should have been prepared for the best he could do, he was not +prepared at all. + +Strictly, that is not quite true, for he had a text, and the text +absolutely focused his thought. But it was too big for him. Like some at +least in England that day, he was conscious of staring down a lane of +tragedy that appalled him. Fragments and sentences came and went in his +head. He groped for words, mentally, as he walked. Over and over again +he repeated his text. It amazed him by its simplicity; it horrified him +by its depth. + +Hilda was waiting at the pillar-box as she had said she would be, and +little as she could guess it, she irritated him. He did not want her just +then. He could hardly tell why, except that, somehow, she ran counter to +his thoughts altogether that morning. She seemed, even in her excellent +brown costume that fitted her fine figure so well, out of place, and out +of place for the first time. + +They were not openly engaged, these two, but there was an understanding +between them, and an understanding that her family was slowly +recognising. Mr. Lessing, at first, would never have accepted an +engagement, for he had other ideas for his daughter of the big house in +Park Lane. The rich city merchant, church-warden at St. John's, important +in his party, and a person of distinction when at his club, would have +been seriously annoyed that his daughter should consider a marriage with +a curate whose gifts had not yet made him an income. But he recognised +that the young man might go far. "Young Graham?" he would say, "Yes, a +clever young fellow, with quite remarkable gifts, sir. Bishop thinks a +lot of him, I believe. Preaches extraordinarily well. The Rector said he +would ask him to St. John's one morning...." + +Peter Graham's parish ran down to the river, and included slums in which +some of the ladies of St. John's (whose congregation had seen to it that +in their immediate neighbourhood there were no such things) were +interested. So the two had met. She had found him admirable and likeable; +he found her highly respectable and seemingly unapproachable. From which +cold elements much more may come than one might suppose. + +At any rate, now, Mrs. Lessing said nothing when Hilda went to post a +letter in London on Sunday morning before breakfast. She would have +mildly remonstrated if the girl had gone to meet the young man. The which +was England once, and may, despite the Kaiser, be England yet once more. + +"I was nearly going," she declared. "You're a bit late." + +"I know," he replied; "I couldn't help it. The early service took longer +than usual. But I'm glad to see you before breakfast. Tell me, what does +your father think of it all?" + +The girl gave a little shrug of the shoulders, "Oh, he says war is +impossible. The credit system makes it impossible. But if he really +thinks so, I don't see why he should say it so often and so violently. +Oh, Peter, what do you think?" + +The young man unconsciously quickened his pace. "I think it is certain," +he said. "We must come in. I should say, more likely, the credit system +makes it impossible for us to keep out. I mean, half Europe can't go to +war and we sit still. Not in these days. And if it comes--Good Lord, +Hilda, do you know what it means? I can't see the end, only it looks to +me like being a fearful smash.... Oh, we shall pull through, but nobody +seems to see that our ordinary life will come down like a pack of cards. +And what will the poor do? And can't you see the masses of poor souls +that will be thrown into the vortex like, like...." He broke off. "I +can't find words," he said, gesticulating nervously. "It's colossal." + +"Peter, you're going to preach about it: I can see you are. But do take +care what you say. I should hate father to be upset. He's so--oh, I don't +know!--_British_, I think. He hates to be thrown out, you know, and he +won't think all that possible." + +She glanced up (the least little bit that she had to) anxiously. Graham +smiled. "I know Mr. Lessing," he said. "But, Hilda, he's _got_ to be +moved. Why, he may be in khaki yet!" + +"Oh, Peter, don't be silly. Why, father's fifty, and not exactly in +training," she laughed. Then, seriously: "But for goodness' sake don't +say such things--for my sake, anyway." + +Peter regarded her gravely, and held open the gate. "I'll remember," he +said, "but more unlikely things may happen than that." + +They went up the path together, and Hilda slipped a key into the door. As +it opened, a thought seemed to strike her for the first time. "What will +_you_ do?" she demanded suddenly. + +Mrs. Lessing was just going into the dining-room, and Peter had no +need to reply. "Good-morning, Mr. Graham," she said, coming forward +graciously. "I wondered if Hilda would meet you: she wanted to post +a letter. Come in. You must be hungry after your walk." + +A manservant held the door open, and they all went in. That magic sun +shone on the silver of the breakfast-table, and lit up the otherwise +heavy room. Mrs. Lessing swung the cover of a silver dish and the eggs +slipped in to boil. She touched a button on the table and sat down, just +as Mr. Lessing came rather ponderously forward with a folded newspaper in +his hand. + +"Morning, Graham," he said. "Morning, Hilda. Been out, eh? Well, well, +lovely morning out; makes one feel ten years younger. But what do you +think of all this, Graham?" waving the paper as he spoke. + +Peter just caught the portentous headline-- + +"GERMANY DECLARES WAR ON RUSSIA," + +as he pulled up to the table, but he did not need to see it. There was +really no news: only that. "It is certain, I think, sir," he said. + +"Oh, certain, certain," said Lessing, seating himself. "The telegrams say +they are over the frontier of Luxembourg and massing against France. Grey +can't stop 'em now, but the world won't stand it--can't stand it. There +can't be a long war. Probably it's all a big bluff again; they know in +Berlin that business can't stand a war, or at any rate a long war. And we +needn't come in. In the City, yesterday, they said the Government could +do more by standing out. We're not pledged. Anderson told me Asquith said +so distinctly. And, thank God, the Fleet's ready! It's madness, madness, +and we must keep our heads. That's what I say, anyway." + +Graham cracked an egg mechanically. His sermon was coming back to him. +He saw a congregation of Lessings, and more clearly than ever the other +things. "What about Belgium?" he queried. "Surely our honour is engaged +there?" + +Mr. Lessing pulled up his napkin, visibly perturbed. "Yes, but what can +we do?" he demanded. "What is the good of flinging a handful of troops +overseas, even if we can? It's incredible--English troops in Flanders in +this century. In my opinion--in my opinion, I say--we should do better to +hold ourselves in readiness. Germany would never really dare antagonise +us. They know what it involves. Why, there's hundreds of millions of +pounds at stake. Grey has only to be firm, and things must come right. +Must--absolutely must." + +"Annie said, this morning, that she heard everyone in the +streets last night say we must fight, father," put in Hilda. + +"Pooh!" exclaimed the city personage, touched now on the raw. "What do +the fools know about it? I suppose the _Daily Mail_ will scream, but, +thank God, this country has not quite gone to the dogs yet. The people, +indeed! The mass of the country is solid for sense and business, and +trusts the Government. Of course, the Tory press will make the whole +question a party lever if it can, but it can't. What! Are we going to be +pushed into war by a mob and a few journalists? Why, Labour even will be +dead against it. Come, Graham, you ought to know something about that. +More in your line than mine--don't you think so?" + +"You really ought not to let the maids talk so," said Mrs. Lessing +gently. + +Peter glanced at her with a curiously hopeless feeling, and looked slowly +round the room until his eyes rested on Mr. Lessing's portrait over the +mantelshelf, presented by the congregation of St. John's on some occasion +two years before. From the portrait he turned to the gentleman, but it +was not necessary for him to speak. Mr. Lessing was saying something to +the man--probably ordering the car. He glanced across at Hilda, who had +made some reply to her mother and was toying with a spoon. He thought he +had never seen her look more handsome and.... He could not find the word: +thought of "solid," and then smiled at the thought. It did not fit in +with the sunlight on her hair. + +"Well, well," said Mr. Lessing; "we ought to make a move. It won't do for +either of us to be late, Mr. Preacher." + +The congregation of St. John's assembled on a Sunday morning as befitted +its importance and dignity. Families arrived, or arrived by two or three +representatives, and proceeded with due solemnity to their private pews. +No one, of course, exchanged greetings on the way up the church, but +every lady became aware, not only of the other ladies present, but of +what each wore. A sidesman, with an air of portentous gravity, as one +who, in opening doors, performed an office more on behalf of the Deity +than the worshippers, was usually at hand to usher the party in. Once +there, there was some stir of orderly bustle: kneelers were distributed +according to requirements, books sorted out after the solemn unlocking of +the little box that contained them, sticks and hats safely stowed away. +These duties performed, paterfamilias cast one penetrating glance round +the church, and leaned gracefully forward with a kind of circular motion. +Having suitably addressed Almighty God (it is to be supposed), he would +lean back, adjust his trousers, possibly place an elbow on the pew-door, +and contemplate with a fixed and determined gaze the distant altar. + +Peter, of course, wound in to solemn music with the procession of choir +boys and men, and, accorded the honour of a beadle with a silver mace, +since he was to preach, was finally installed in a suitably cushioned +seat within the altar-rails. He knelt to pray, but it was an effort to +formulate anything. He was intensely conscious that morning that a +meaning hitherto unfelt and unguessed lay behind his world, and even +behind all this pomp and ceremony that he knew so well. Rising, of +course, when the senior curate began to intone the opening sentence in +a manner which one felt was worthy even of St. John's, he allowed himself +to study his surroundings as never before. + +The church had, indeed, an air of great beauty in the morning sunlight. +The Renaissance galleries and woodwork, mellowed by time, were dusted +by that soft warm glow, and the somewhat sparse congregation, in its +magnificently isolated groups, was humanised by it too. The stone of the +chancel, flecked with colour, had a quiet dignity, and even the altar, +ecclesiastically ludicrous, had a grace of its own. There was to be a +celebration after Matins. The historic gold plate was therefore arranged +on the retable with something of the effect of show pieces at Mappin and +Webb's. Peter noticed three flagons, and between them two patens of great +size. A smaller pair for use stood on the credence-table. The gold +chalice and paten, veiled, stood on the altar-table itself, and above +them, behind, rose the cross and two vases of hot-house lilies. +Suggesting one of the great shields of beaten gold that King Solomon had +made for the Temple of Jerusalem, an alms-dish stood on edge, and leant +against the retable to the right of the veiled chalice. Peter found +himself marvelling at its size, but was recalled to his position when +it became necessary to kneel for the Confession. + +The service followed its accustomed course, and throughout the whole of +it Peter was conscious of his chaotic sermon. He glanced at his notes +occasionally, and then put them resolutely away, well aware that they +would be all but useless to him. Either he would, at the last, be able to +formulate the thoughts that raced through his head, or else he could do +no more than occupy the pulpit for the conventional twenty minutes with a +conventional sermon. At times he half thought he would follow this easier +course, but then the great letters of the newspaper poster seemed to +frame themselves before him, and he knew he could not. And so, at last, +there was the bowing beadle with the silver mace, and he must set out on +the little dignified procession to the great Jacobean pulpit with its +velvet cushion at the top. + +Hilda's mind was a curious study during that sermon. At first, as her +lover's rather close-cropped, dark-haired head appeared in sight, she had +studied him with an odd mixture of pride and apprehension. She held her +hymn-book, but she did not need it, and she watched surreptitiously while +he opened the Bible, arranged some papers, and, in accordance with +custom, knelt to pray. She began to think half-thoughts of the days that +might be, when perhaps she would be the wife of the Rector of some St. +John's, and later, possibly, of a Bishop. Peter had it in him to go far, +she knew. She half glanced round with a self-conscious feeling that +people might be guessing at her thoughts, and then back, wondering +suddenly if she really knew the man, or only the minister. And then there +came the rustle of shutting books and of people composing themselves to +listen, the few coughs, the vague suggestion of hassocks and cushions +being made comfortable. And then, in a moment, almost with the giving out +of the text, the sudden stillness and that tense sensation which told +that the young orator had gripped his congregation. + +Thereafter she hardly heard him, as it were, and she certainly lost the +feeling of ownership that had been hers before. As he leaned over the +pulpit, and the words rang out almost harshly from their intensity, she +began to see, as the rest of the congregation began to see, the images +that the preacher conjured up before her. A sense of coming disaster +riveted her--the feeling that she was already watching the end of +an age. + +"Jesus had compassion on the multitude"--that had been the short and +simple text. Simple words, the preacher had said, but how when one +realised Who had had compassion, and on what? Almighty God Himself, with +His incarnate Mind set on the working out of immense and agelong plans, +had, as it were, paused for a moment to have compassion on hungry women +and crying babies and folk whose petty confused affairs could have seemed +of no consequence to anyone in the drama of the world. And then, with a +few terse sentences, the preacher swung from that instance to the world +drama of to-day. Did they realise, he asked, that peaceful bright Sunday +morning, that millions of simple men were at that moment being hurled at +each other to maim and kill? At the bidding of powers that even they +could hardly visualise, at the behest of world politics that not one in +a thousand would understand and scarcely any justify, houses were being +broken up, women were weeping, and children playing in the sun before +cottage doors were even now being left fatherless. It was incredible, +colossal, unimaginable, but as one tried to picture it, Hell had opened +her mouth and Death gone forth to slay. It was terrible enough that +battlefields of stupendous size should soon be littered with the dying +and the dead, but the aftermath of such a war as this would be still more +terrible. No one could say how near it would come to them all. No one +could tell what revolution in morals and social order such a war as this +might not bring. That day God Himself looked down on the multitude as +sheep having no shepherd, abandoned to be butchered by the wolves, and +His heart beat with a divine compassion for the infinite sorrows of the +world. + +There was little more to it. An exhortation to go home to fear and pray +and set the house in order against the Day of Wrath, and that was all. +"My brethren," said the young man--and the intensity of his thought lent +a certain unusual solemnity to the conventional title--"no one can tell +how the events of this week may affect us. Our feet may even now be going +down into the Valley of the Shadow of temptation, of conflict, of death, +and even now there may be preparing for us a chalice such as we shall +fear to drink. Let us pray that in that hour the compassion of Jesus may +be real to us, and we ourselves find a sure place in that sorrowful +Heart." + +And he was gone from the pulpit without another word. It would have been +almost ridiculous if one had noted that the surprised beadle had had no +"And now to God the Father ..." in which to reach the pulpit, and had +been forced to meet his victim hurrying halfway up the chancel; but +perhaps no one but that dignitary, whom the fall of thrones would not +shake, had noticed it. The congregation paid the preacher the great +compliment of sitting on in absolute silence for a minute or two. For a +moment it still stared reality in the face. And then Mr. Lessing shifted +in his pew and coughed, and the Rector rose, pompously as usual, to +announce the hymn, and Hilda became conscious of unaccustomed tears in +her eyes. + +The senior curate solemnly uncovered and removed the chalice. Taking +bread and wine, he deposited the sacred vessels at the north end of the +altar, returned to the centre, unfolded the corporal, received the alms, +and as solemnly set the great gold dish on the corporal itself, after the +unmeaning custom of the church. And then came the long prayer and the +solemn procession to the vestry, while a dozen or two stayed with the +senior curate for the Communion. + +Graham found himself in the little inner vestry, with its green-cloth +table and massive inkstand and registers, and began to unvest +mechanically. He got his coat out of the beautiful carved wardrobe, and +was folding up his hood and surplice, when the Rector laid a patronising +hand on his shoulder. "A good sermon, Graham," he said--"a good sermon, +if a little emotional. It was a pity you forgot the doxology. But it is +a great occasion, I fear a greater occasion than we know, and you rose to +it very well. Last night I had half a mind to 'phone you not to come, and +to preach myself, but I am glad now I did not. I am sure we are very +grateful. Eh, Sir Robert?" + +Sir Robert Doyle, the other warden, was making neat piles of sovereigns +on the green cloth, while Mr. Lessing counted the silver as to the manner +born. He was a pillar of the church, too, was Sir Robert, but a soldier +and a straight speaker. He turned genially to the young man. + +"From the shoulder, Rector," he said. "Perhaps it will make a few of us +sit up a little. Coming down to church I met Arnold of the War Office, +and he said war was certain. Of course it is. Germany has been playing up +for it for years, and we fools have been blind and mad. But it'll come +now. Thank God, I can still do a bit, and maybe we shall meet out there +yet--eh, Mr. Graham?" + +Somehow or another that aspect of the question had not struck Peter +forcibly till now. He had been so occupied with visualising the march +of world events that he had hardly thought of himself as one of the +multitude. But now the question struck home. What would he do? He was +at a loss for the moment. + +The Rector saved him, however. "Well, well, of course, Sir Robert, apart +from the chaplains, the place of the clergy will be almost certainly at +home. Hospital visiting, and so on, will take a lot of time. I believe +the Chaplain-General's Department is fully staffed, but doubtless, if +there is any demand, the clergy will respond. It is, of course, against +Canon Law for them to fight, though doubtless our young friend would like +to do his share in that if he could. You were in the O.T.C. at Oxford, +weren't you, Graham?" + +"Yes," said Graham shortly. + +"The French priests are mobilising with the nation," said Sir Robert. + +"Ah, yes, naturally," replied the Rector; "that is one result of the +recent anti-clerical legislation. Thank God, this country has been spared +that, and in any case we shall never have conscription. Probably the Army +will have to be enlarged--half a million will be required at least, I +should think. That will mean more chaplains, but I should suppose the +Bishops will select--oh, yes, surely their lordships will select. It +would be a pity for you to go, Graham; it's rough work with the Tommies, +and your gifts are wanted at home. The Vicar of St. Thomas's speaks very +highly of your gifts as an organiser, and doubtless some sphere will be +opened up for you. Well, well, these are stirring times. Good-morning, +Mr. Graham." + +He held out his hand to the young man. Mr. Lessing, carefully smoothing +his silk hat, looked up. "Come in to luncheon with us, will you, Graham?" +he said. + +Peter assented, and shook hands all round. Sir Robert and he moved out +together, and the baronet caught his eye in the porch. "This'll jog him +up a bit, I'm thinking," he said to himself. "There's stuff in that chap, +but he's got to feel his legs." + +Outside the summer sun was now powerful, and the streets were dusty and +more busy. The crowd had thinned at the church door, but Hilda and Mrs. +Lessing were waiting for the car. + +"Don't let's drive," said Hilda as they came up; "I'd much sooner walk +home to-day." + +Her father smiled paternally. "Bit cramped after church, eh?" he said. +"Well, what do you say, dear?" he asked his wife. + +"I think I shall drive," Mrs. Lessing replied; "but if Mr. Graham is +coming to luncheon, perhaps he will walk round with Hilda. Will you, Mr. +Graham?" + +"With pleasure," said Peter. "I agree with Miss Lessing, and the walk +will be jolly. We'll go through the park. It's less than half an hour, +isn't it?" + +It was arranged at that, and the elders drove off. Peter raised his hat +to Sir Robert, who turned up the street, and together he and Hilda +crossed over the wide thoroughfare and started down for the park. + +There was silence for a little, and it was Peter who broke it. + +"Just before breakfast," he said, "you asked me what I should do, and I +had no chance to reply. Well, they were talking of it in the vestry just +now, and I've made up my mind. I shall write to-night to the Bishop and +ask for a chaplaincy." + +They walked on a hundred yards or so in silence again. Then Hilda broke +it. "Peter," she began, and stopped. He glanced at her quickly, and saw +in a minute that the one word had spoken truly to him. + +"Oh, Hilda," he said, "do you really care all that? You can't possibly! +Oh, if we were not here, and I could tell you all I feel! But, dear, I +love you; I know now that I have loved you for months, and it is just +because I love you that I must go." + +"Peter," began Hilda again, and again stopped. Then she took a grip of +herself, and spoke out bravely. "Oh, Peter," she said, "you've guessed +right. I never meant you to--at least, not yet, but it is terrible to +think of you going out there. I suppose I ought to be glad and proud, and +in a way I am, but you don't seem the right person for it. It's wasting +you. And I don't know what I shall do without you. You've become the +centre of my life. I count on seeing you, and on working with you. If +you go, you, you may ... Oh, I can't say it! I ought not to say all this. +But..." She broke off abruptly. + +Graham glanced round him. They were in the park now, and no one in +particular was about in the quiet of the sidewalk. He put his hand out, +and drew her gently to a seat. Then, leaning forward and poking at the +ground with his stick, he began. "Hilda, darling," he said, "it's awful +to have to speak to you just now and just like this, but I must. First, +about ourselves. I love you with all my heart, only that's so little to +say; I love you so much that you fill my life. And I have planned my life +with you. I hardly knew it, but I had. I thought I should just go on and +get a living and marry you--perhaps, if you would (I can hardly speak of +it now I know you would)--and--and--oh, I don't know--make a name in the +Church, I suppose. Well, and I hope we shall one day, but now this has +come along. I really feel all I said this morning, awfully. I shall go +out--I must. The men must be helped; one can't sit still and imagine them +dying, wounded, tempted, and without a priest. It's a supreme chance. We +shall be fighting for honour and truth, and the Church must be there to +bear her witness and speak her message. There will be no end to do. And +it is a chance of a lifetime to get into touch with the men, and +understand them. You do see that, don't you? And, besides--forgive me, +but I must put it so--if _He_ had compassion on the multitude, ought we +not to have too? _He_ showed it by death; ought we to fear even that +too?" + +The girl stole out a hand, and his gripped it hard. Then she remembered +the conventions and pulled it away, and sat a little more upright. She +was extraordinarily conscious of herself, and she felt as if she had two +selves that day. One was Hilda Lessing, a girl she knew quite well, a +well-trained person who understood life, and the business of society and +of getting married, quite correctly; and the other was somebody she did +not know at all, that could not reason, and who felt naked and ashamed. +It was inexplicable, but it was so. That second self was listening to +heroics and even talking them, and surely heroics were a little out of +date. + +She looked across a wide green space, and saw, through the distant trees, +the procession of the church parade. She felt as if she ought to be +there, and half unconsciously glanced at her dress. A couple of terriers +ran scurrying across the grass, and a seat-ticket man came round the +corner. Behind them a taxi hooted, and some sparrows broke out into a +noisy chatter in a bush. And here was Peter talking of death, and the +Cross--and out of church, too. + +She gave a little shudder, and glanced at a wrist-watch. "Peter," she +said, "we must go. Dear, for my sake, do think it over. Wait a little, +and see what happens. I quite understand your point of view, but you must +think of others--even your Vicar, my parents, and of me. And Peter, shall +we say anything about our--our love? What do you think?" + +Peter Graham looked at her steadily, and as she spoke he, too, felt the +contrast between his thoughts and ordinary life. The London curate was +himself again. He got up. "Well, darling," he said, "just as you like, +but perhaps not--at any rate until I know what I have to do. I'll think +that over. Only, we shan't change, shall we, whatever happens? You _do_ +love me, don't you? And I do love you." + +Hilda met his gaze frankly and blushed a little. She held out a hand to +be helped up. "My dear boy," she said. + +After luncheon Peter smoked a cigar in the study with Mr. Lessing before +departure. Every detail of that hour impressed itself upon him as had the +events of the day, for his mind was strung up to see the inner meaning of +things clearly. + +They began with the usual ritual of the selection of chairs and cigars, +and Mr. Lessing had a glass of port with his coffee, because, as he +explained, his nerves were all on edge. Comfortably stretched out in an +armchair, blowing smoke thoughtfully towards the empty grate, his fat +face and body did not seem capable of nerves, still less to be suffering +from them, but then one can never tell from appearances. At any rate he +chose his words with care, and Graham, opposite but sitting rather +upright, could not but sense his meaning. + +"Well, well, well," he said, "to think we should come to this! A European +war in this century, and we in it! Not that I'll believe it till I hear +it officially. While there's life there's hope, eh, Graham?" + +Peter nodded, for he did not know what to say. + +"The question is," went on the other, "that if we are carried into war, +what is the best policy? Some fools will lose their heads, of course, and +chuck everything to run into it. But I've no use for fools, Graham." + +"No, sir," said Peter. + +"No use for fools," repeated Mr. Lessing. "I shall carry on with business +as usual, and I hope other people will carry on with theirs. There are +plenty of men who can fight, and who ought to, without disorganising +everything. Hilda would see that too--she's such a sensible girl. Look at +that Boer affair, and all that foolery about the C.I.V. Why, I met a +South African at the club the other day who said we'd have done ten times +as well without 'em. You must have trained men these days, and, after +all, it's the men behind the armies that win the war. Men like you and I, +Graham, each doing his ordinary job without excitement. That's the type +that's made old England. You ought to preach about it, Graham. Come to +think, it fits in with what you said this morning, and a good sermon too, +young man. Every man's got to put his house in order and carry on. You +meant that, didn't you?" + +"Something like that," said Peter; "but as far as the clergy are +concerned, I still think the Bishops ought to pick their men." + +"Yes, yes, of course," said Mr. Lessing, stretching himself a bit. "But I +don't think the clergy could be much use over there. As the Canon said, +there will be plenty to do at home. In any case it would be no use +rushing the Bishops. Let them see what's needed, and then let them choose +their men, eh? A man like London's sure to be in the know. Good thing +he's your Bishop, Graham: you can leave it to him easily?" + +"I should think so, sir," said Peter forlornly. + +"Oh, well, glad to hear you say it, I'm sure, Graham, and so will Mrs. +Lessing be, and Hilda. We're old-fashioned folk, you know.... Well, well, +and I suppose I oughtn't to keep you. I'll come with you to the door, my +boy." + +He walked ahead of the young man into the hall, and handed him his hat +himself. On the steps they shook hands to the fire of small sentences. +"Drop in some evening, won't you? Don't know if I really congratulated +you on the sermon; you spoke extraordinarily well, Graham. You've a great +gift. After all, this war will give you a bit of a chance, eh? We must +hear you again in St. John's.... Good-afternoon." + +"Good-afternoon, Mr. Lessing," said Graham, "and thank you for all you've +said." + +In the street he walked slowly, and he thought of all Mr. Lessing had not +said as well as all he had. After all, he had spoken sound sense, and +there was Hilda. He couldn't lose Hilda, and if the old man turned out +obstinate--well, it would be all but impossible to get her. Probably +things were not as bad as he had imagined. Very likely it would all be +over by Christmas. If so, it was not much use throwing everything up. +Perhaps he could word the letter to the Bishop a little differently. He +turned over phrases all the way home, and got them fairly pat. But it was +a busy evening, and he did not write that night. + +Monday always began as a full day, what with staff meeting and so on, and +its being Bank Holiday did not make much difference to them. But in the +afternoon he was free to read carefully the Sunday papers, and was +appalled with the swiftness of the approach of the universal cataclysm. +After Evensong and supper, then, he got out paper and pen and wrote, +though it took much longer than he thought it would. In the end he begged +the Bishop to remember him if it was really necessary to find more +chaplains, and expressed his readiness to serve the Church and the +country when he was wanted. When it was written, he sat long over the +closed envelope and smoked a couple of pipes. He wondered if men were +killing each other, even now, just over the water. He pictured a battle +scene, drawing from imagination and what he remembered of field-days at +Aldershot. He shuddered a little as he conceived himself crawling through +heather to reach a man in the front line who had been hit, while the +enemies' guns on the crest opposite were firing as he had seen them fire +in play. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be hit. + +Then he got up and stretched himself. He looked round curiously at the +bookcase, the Oxford group or two, the hockey cap that hung on the edge +of one. He turned to the mantelpiece and glanced over the photos. +Probably Bob Scarlett would be out at once; he was in some Irish +regiment or other. Old Howson was in India; he wouldn't hear or see much. +Jimmy--what would Jimmy do, now? He picked up the photograph and looked +at it--the clean-shaven, thoughtful, good-looking face of the best fellow +in the world, who had got his fellowship almost at once after his +brilliant degree, and was just now, he reflected, on holiday in the +South of France. Jimmy, the idealist, what would Jimmy do? He reached +for a hat and made for the door. He would post his letter that night +under the stars. + +Once outside, he walked on farther down Westminster way. At the Bridge +he leaned for a while and watched the sullen, tireless river, and then +turned to walk up past the House. It was a clear, still night, and the +street was fairly empty. Big Ben boomed eleven, and as he crossed in +front of the gates to reach St. Margaret's he wondered what was doing in +there. He had the vaguest notion where people like the Prime Minister and +Sir Edward Grey would be that night. He thought possibly with the King, +or in Downing Street. And then he heard his name being called, and turned +to see Sir Robert Doyle coming towards him. + +The other's face arrested him. "Is there any news, Sir Robert?" he asked. + +Sir Robert glanced up in his turn at the great shining dial above them. +"Our ultimatum has gone or is just going to Germany, and in twenty-four +hours we shall be at war," he said tersely. "I'm just going home; I've +been promised a job." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +At 7.10 on a foggy February morning Victoria Station looked a place of +mystery within which a mighty work was going forward. Electric lights +still shone in the gloom, and whereas innumerable units of life ran this +way and that like ants disturbed, an equal number stood about apparently +indifferent and unperturbed. Tommies who had found a place against a wall +or seat deposited rifle and pack close by, lit a pipe, and let the world +go by, content that when the officers' leave train had gone someone, or +some Providence, would round them up as well. But, for the rest, porters, +male and female, rushed up with baggage; trunks were pushed through the +crowd with the usual objurgations; subalterns, mostly loud and merry, +greeted each other or the officials, or, more subdued, moved purposefully +through the crowd with their women-folk, intent on finding a quieter +place farther up the platforms. + +There was no mistaking the leave platform or the time of the train, for a +great notice drew one's attention to it. Once there, the Army took a man +in hand. Peter was entirely new to the process, but he speedily +discovered that his fear of not knowing what to do or where to go, which +had induced him (among other reasons) to say good-bye at home and come +alone to the station, was unfounded. Red-caps passed him on respectfully +but purposefully to officials, who looked at this paper and that, and +finally sent him up to an officer who sat at a little table with papers +before him to write down the name, rank, unit, and destination of each +individual destined that very morning to leave for the Army in France. + +Peter at last, then, was free to walk up the platform, and seek the rest +of his luggage that had come on from the hotel with the porter. He was +free, that is, if one disregarded the kit hung about his person, or +which, despite King's Regulations, he carried in his hands. But free or +not, he could not find his luggage. At 7.30 it struck him that at least +he had better find his seat. He therefore entered a corridor and began +pilgrimage. It was seemingly hopeless. The seats were filled with coats +or sticks or papers; every type of officer was engaged in bestowing +himself and his goods; and the general atmosphere struck him as being +precisely that which one experiences as a fresher when one first enters +hall for dinner at the 'Varsity. The comparison was very close. +First-year men--that is to say, junior officers returning from their +first leave--were the most encumbered, self-possessed, and asserting; +those of the second year, so to say, usually got a corner-seat and looked +out of window; while here and there a senior officer, or a subaltern with +a senior's face, selected a place, arranged his few possessions, and got +out a paper, not in the Oxford manner, as if he owned the place, but in +the Cambridge, as if he didn't care a damn who did. + +Peter made a horrible hash of it. He tried to find a seat with all his +goods in his hands, not realising that they might have been deposited +anywhere in the train, and found when it had started, since, owing to a +particular dispensation of the high gods, everything that passed the +barrier for France got there. He made a dive for one place and sat in it, +never noting a thin stick in the corner, and he cleared out with enormous +apologies when a perfectly groomed Major with an exceedingly pleasant +manner mentioned that it was his seat, and carefully put the stick +elsewhere as soon as Peter had gone. Finally, at the end of a carriage, +he descried a small door half open, and inside what looked like an empty +seat. He pulled it open, and discovered a small, select compartment with +a centre table and three men about it, all making themselves very +comfortable. + +"I beg your pardon," said Peter, "but is there a place vacant for one?" + +The three eyed him stonily, and he knew instinctively that he was again a +fresher calling on the second year. One, a Captain, raised his head to +look at him better. He was a man of light hair and blue, alert eyes, +wearing a cap that, while not looking dissipated, somehow conveyed the +impression that its owner knew all about things--a cap, too, that carried +the Springbok device. The lean face, with its humorous mouth, regarded +Peter and took him all in: his vast expanse of collar, the wide black +edging to his shoulder-straps, his brand-new badges, his black buttons +and stars. Then he lied remorselessly: + +"Sorry, padre; we're full up." + +Peter backed out and forgot to close the door, for at that moment a +shrill whistle was excruciatingly blown. He found himself in the very cab +of the Pullman with the glass door before him, through which could be +seen a sudden bustle. Subalterns hastened forward from the more or less +secluded spots that they had found, with a vision of skirts and hats +behind them; an inspector passed aggressively along; and--thanks to those +high gods--Peter observed the hurrying hotel porter at that moment. In +sixty seconds the door had been jerked open; a gladstone, a suit-case, +and a kit-bag shot at him; largesse had changed hands; the door had shut +again; the train had groaned and started; and Peter was off to France. + +It was with mixed feelings that he groped for his luggage. He was +conscious of wanting a seat and a breakfast; he was also conscious of +wanting to look at the station he was leaving, which he dimly felt he +might never see again; and he was, above all, conscious that he looked a +fool and would like not to. In such a turmoil he lugged at the gladstone +and got it into a corner, and then turned to the window in the cleared +space with a determination. In turning he caught the Captain's face stuck +round the little door. It was withdrawn at once, but came out again, and +he heard for the second time the unfamiliar title: + +"Say, padre; come in here. There's room after all." + +Peter felt cheered. He staggered to the door, and found the others busy +making room. A subaltern of the A.S.C. gripped his small attaché case and +swung it up on to the rack. The South African pulled a British warm off +the vacant seat and reached out for the suit-case. And the third man, with +the rank of a Major and the badge of a bursting bomb, struck a match and +paused as he lit a cigarette to jerk out: + +"Damned full train! We ought to have missed it, Donovan." + +"It's a good stunt that, if too many blighters don't try it on," observed +the subaltern, reaching for Peter's warm. "But they did my last leave, +and I got the devil of a choking off from the brass-hat in charge. It's +the Staff train, and they only take Prime Ministers, journalists, and +trade-union officials in addition. How's that, padre?" + +"Thanks," said Peter, subsiding. "It's jolly good of you to take me in. I +thought I'd got to stand from here to Folkestone." + +H.P. Jenks, Second-Lieutenant A.S.C., regarded him seriously. "It +couldn't be done, padre," he said, "not at this hour of the morning. I +left Ealing about midnight more or less, got sandwiched in the Metro with +a Brigadier-General and his blooming wife and daughters, and had to wait +God knows how long for the R.T.O. If I couldn't get a seat and a break +after that, I'd be a casualty, sure thing." + +"It's your own fault for going home last night," observed the Major +judiciously. (Peter noticed that he was little older than Jenks on +inspection.) "Gad, Donovan, you should have been with us at the Adelphi! +It was some do, I can tell you. And afterwards..." + +"Shut up, Major!" cut in Jenks. "Remember the padre." + +"Oh, he's broad-minded I know, aren't you, padre? By the way, did you +ever meet old Drennan who was up near Poperinghe with the Canadians? He +was a sport, I can tell you. Mind you, a real good chap at his job, but a +white man. Pluck! By jove! I don't think that chap had nerves. I saw him +one day when they were dropping heavy stuff on the station, and he was +getting some casualties out of a Red Cross train. A shell burst just down +the embankment, and his two orderlies ducked for it under the carriage, +but old Drennan never turned a hair. 'Better have a fag,' he said to the +Scottie he was helping. 'It's no use letting Fritz put one off one's +smoke.'" + +Peter said he had not met him, but could not think of anything else to +say at the moment, except that he was just going out for the first time. + +"You don't say?" said Donovan dryly. + +"Wish I was!" ejaculated Jenks. + +"Good chap," replied the Major. "Pity more of your sort don't come over. +When I was up at Loos, September last year, we didn't see a padre in +three months. Then they put on a little chap--forget his name--who used +to bike over when we were in rest billets. But he wasn't much use." + +"I was in hospital seven weeks and never saw one," said Jenks. + +"Good heavens!" said Graham. "But I've been trying to get out for +all these years, and I was always told that every billet was taken +and that there were hundreds on the waiting list. Last December the +Chaplain-General himself showed me a list of over two hundred names." + +"Don't know where they get to, then, do you, Bevan?" asked Jenks. + +"No," said the Major, "unless they keep 'em at the base." + +"Plenty down at Rouen, anyway," said Donovan. "A sporting little blighter +I met at the Brasserie Opera told me he hadn't anything to do, anyway." + +"I shall be a padre in the next war," said Jenks, stretching out his +legs. "A parade on Sunday, and you're finished for the week. No orderly +dog, no night work, and plenty of time for your meals. Padres can always +get leave too, and they always come and go by Paris." + +Donovan laughed, and glanced sideways at Peter. "Stow it, Jenks," he +said. "Where you for, padre?" he asked. + +"I've got to report at Rouen," said Peter. "I was wondering if you were +there." + +"No such luck now," returned the other. "But it's a jolly place. Jenko's +there. Get him to take you out to Duclair. You can get roast duck at a +pub there that melts in your mouth. And what's that little hotel near the +statue of Joan of Arc, Jenks, where they still have decent wine?" + +Peter was not to learn yet awhile, for at that moment the little door +opened and a waiter looked in. "Breakfast, gentlemen?" he asked. + +"Oh, no," said Jenks. "Waiter, I always bring some rations with me; I'll +just take a cup of coffee." + +The man grinned. "Right-o, sir," he said. "Porridge, gentlemen?" + +He disappeared, leaving the door open and, Donovan opening a newspaper, +Graham stared out of window to wait. From the far corners came scraps of +conversation, from which he gathered that Jenks and the Major were going +over the doings of the night before. He caught a word or two, and stared +the harder out of window. + +Outside the English country was rushing by. Little villas, with +back-gardens running down to the rail, would give way for a mile or two +to fields, and then start afresh. The fog was thin there, and England +looked extraordinarily homely and pleasant. It was the known; he was +conscious of rushing at fifty miles an hour into the unknown. He turned +over the scrappy conversation of the last few minutes, and found it +savoured of the unknown. It was curious the difference uniform made. He +felt that these men were treating him more like one of themselves than +men in a railway-carriage had ever treated him before; that somehow even +his badges made him welcome; and yet that, nevertheless, it was not he, +Peter Graham, that they welcomed, or at least not his type. He wondered +if padres in France were different from priests in England. He turned +over the unknown Drennan in his mind. Was it because he was a good priest +that the men liked him, or because they had discovered the man in the +parson? + +The waiter brought in the breakfast--porridge, fish, toast, and the +rest--and they fell to, a running fire of comments going on all the time. +Donovan had had Japanese marmalade somewhere, and thought it better than +this. The Major wouldn't touch the beastly margarine, but Jenks thought +it quite as good as butter if taken with marmalade, and put it on nearly +as thickly as his toast. Peter expanded in the air of camaraderie, and +when he leaned back with a cigarette, tunic unbuttoned and cap tossed up +on the rack, he felt as if he had been in the Army for years. He +reflected how curious that was. The last two or three years or so of Boy +Scouts and hospitals and extra prayer-meetings, attended by the people +who attended everything else, seemed to have faded away. There was hardly +a gap between that first war evening which he remembered so clearly and +this. It was a common experience enough, and probably due to the fact +that, whereas everything else had made little impression, he had lived +for this moment and been extraordinarily impressed by that Sunday. But he +realised, also, that it was due as much to his present companions. They +had, seemingly, accepted him as he had never been accepted before. They +asked practically no questions. So far as he could see, he made no +difference to them. He felt as if he were at last part of a great +brotherhood, in which, chiefly, one worried about nothing more important +than Japanese marmalade and margarine. + +"We're almost there, boys," said Bevan, peering out of window. + +"Curse!" ejaculated Jenks. "I hate getting my traps together in a train, +and I loathe the mob on the boat." + +"I don't see why you should," said Donovan. "I'm blest if I bother about +anything. The R.T.O. and the red-caps do everything, and you needn't even +worry about getting a Pullman ticket this way over. Hope it's not rough, +though." He let a window down and leaned out. "Looks all right," he +added. + +Peter got up with the rest and began to hang things about him. His +staringly new Sam Browne irritated him, but he forgot it as the train +swung round the curve to the landing-stage. + +"Get a porter and a truck, Donovan," said the Major, who was farthest +from the door. + +They got out nonchalantly, and Peter lit a cigarette, while the others +threw remarks at the man as to luggage. Then they all trooped off +together in a crowd that consisted of every variety of rank and regiment +and section of the British Empire, plus some Waacs and nurses. + +_The Pride of Folkestone_ lay alongside, and when they got there she +seemed already full. The four of them got jammed at the gangway and +shoved on board, handing in and receiving papers from the official at the +head as they passed him. Donovan was in front, and as he stepped on deck +he swung his kit-bag back to Peter, crying: + +"Lay hold of that, padre, and edge across the deck. Get up ahead of the +funnel that side. I'll get chairs. Jenko, you rotter, get belts, and drop +eyeing the girl!" + +"Jolly nice bit of fluff," said Jenks meditatively, staring fixedly +across the deck. + +"Where?" queried the Major, fumbling for his eyeglass. + +"Get on there, please, gentlemen," called a ship's official. + +"Damn it! mind my leg!" + +"Cheerio, old son, here we are again!" + +"I say, Tommy, did you get to the Alhambra last night, after all? What? +Well, I couldn't see you, anyhow." + +To which accompaniment, Peter pushed his way across the deck. "Sorry, +padre," said a V.A.D. who blocked the way, bending herself back to let +him pass, and smiling. "Catch hold," called out Donovan, swinging a +couple of chairs at him. "No, sir, it's not my chair"--to a Colonel +who was grabbing at one already set out against the rail. + +The Colonel collected it and disappeared, Jenks appearing a moment later, +red-faced, through the crush. "You blamed fool," he whispered, "it's that +girl's. I saw her put one here and edged up on it, only some fool got in +my way. Still (hopefully), perhaps she'll come back." + +Between them they got four chairs into a line and sat down, all, that is, +save Jenks, who stood up, in a bland and genial way, as if to survey the +crowd impartially. How impartially soon appeared. "Damn!" he exploded. +"She's met some other females, weird and woolly things, and she's sitting +down there. No, by Jove! she's looking this way." + +He made a half-start forward, and the Major kicked his shins. "Blast!" he +exploded; "why did you do that, you fool?" + +"Don't be an infant, Jenko, sit down. You can't start a flirtation across +the blooming deck. Here, padre, can't you keep him in order?" + +Peter half raised himself from his chair at this, and glanced the way the +other was looking. Through the crush he saw, clearly enough for a minute, +a girl of medium height in a nurse's uniform, sideways on to him. The +next second she half-turned, obviously smiling some remark to her +neighbour, and he caught sight of clear brown eyes and a little fringe +of dark hair on the forehead of an almost childish face. The eyes met +his. And then a sailor blundered across his field of vision. + +"Topping, isn't she?" demanded Jenks, who had apparently been pulled down +into his chair in the interval. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Graham, and added deliberately: "Rather +ordinary, I thought." + +Jenks stared at him. "Good Lord, padre," he said, "where are your eyes?" + +Peter heard a little chuckle behind, and glanced round to see Donovan +staring at him with amusement written all across his face. "You'll do, +padre," he said, taking a pipe from his pocket and beginning to fill it. +Peter smiled and leant back. Probably for the first time in five years he +forgot for a moment what sort of a collar it was around his neck. + +Sitting there, he began to enjoy himself. The sea glittered in the +sun and the Lees stretched out opposite him across the shining gulf. +Sea-birds dipped and screamed. On his left, Major Bevan was talking to +a flying man, and Peter glanced up with him to see an aeroplane that +came humming high up above the trees on the cliff and flew out to sea. + +"Damned fine type!" said the boy, whose tunic, for all his youth, sported +wings. "Fritz can't touch it yet. Of course, he'll copy it soon enough, +or go one better, but just at present I think it's the best out. Wish +we'd got some in our circus. We've nothing but ..." and he trailed off +into technicalities. + +Peter found himself studying Donovan, who lay back beyond Jenks turning +the pages of an illustrated magazine and smoking. The eyes interested +him; they looked extraordinarily clear, but as if their owner kept hidden +behind them a vast number of secrets as old as the universe. The face was +lined--good-looking, he thought, but the face of a man who was no novice +in the school of life. Peter felt he liked the Captain instinctively. He +carried breeding stamped on him, far more than, say, the Major with the +eyeglass. Peter wondered if they would meet again. + +The siren sounded, and a bustle began as people put on their life-belts. +"All life-belts on, please," said a young officer continually, who, with +a brassard on his arm, was going up and down among the chairs. "Who's +that?" asked Peter, struggling with his belt. + +"Some poor bloke who has been roped in for crossin' duty," said Jenks. +"Mind my chair, padre; Bevan and I are going below for a wet. Coming, +skipper?" + +"Not yet," said Donovan; "the bar's too full at first for me. Padre and +I'll come later." + +The others stepped off across the crowded deck, and Donovan pitched his +magazine into Bevan's chair to retain it. + +"You're from South Africa?" queried Peter. + +"Yes," replied the other. "I was in German West, and came over after on +my own. Joined up with the brigade here." + +"What part of Africa?" asked Peter. + +"Basutoland, padre. Not a bad place in a way--decent climate, topping +scenery, but rather a stodgy crowd in the camps. One or two decent +people, but the majority mid-Victorian, without a blessed notion except +the price of mealies, who quarrel about nothing half the time, and talk +tuppenny-ha'penny scandal the rest. Good Lord! I wish we had some of the +perishers out here. But they know which side of the bread the butter is. +Bad time for trade, they say, and every other trader has bought a car +since the war. Of course, there's something to be said for the other +side, but what gets my goat is their pettiness. I'm for British East +Africa after the war. There's a chap written a novel about Basutoland +called 'The Land of To-morrow,' but I'd call it 'The Land of the Day +before Yesterday.' I suppose some of them came over with an assortment of +ideas one time, but they've struck no new ones since. I don't advise you +to settle in a South African dorp if you can help it, padre." + +"Don't suppose I shall," said Peter. "I've just got engaged, and my +girl's people wouldn't let her out of England." + +"Engaged, are you? Thank your stars you aren't married. It's safer not to +be out here." + +"Why?" + +Donovan looked at him curiously. "Oh, you'll find out fast enough, +padre," he said. "Wonder what you'll make of it. Rum place just now, +France, I can tell you. There's the sweepings of half the world over +there, and everything's turned upside down. Fellows are out for a spree, +of course, and you can't be hard on a chap down from the line if he goes +on the bust a bit. It's human nature, and you must allow for it; don't +you think so?" + +"Human nature can be controlled," said Peter primly. + +"Can it?" retorted the other. "Even the cloth doesn't find it too easy, +apparently." + +"What do you mean?" demanded Peter, and then added: "Don't mind telling +me; I really want to know." + +Donovan knocked out his pipe, and evaded. "You've got to be broad-minded, +padre," he said. + +"Well, I am," said Peter. "But ..." + +"Come and have a drink then," interrupted the other. "Jenko and the Major +are coming back." + +"Damned poor whisky!" said the latter, catching the rail as the boat +heaved a bit, "begging your pardon, padre. Better try brandy. If the war +lasts much longer there'll be no whisky worth drinking this side. I'm off +it till we get to the club at Boulogne." + +Peter and Donovan went off together. It was a new experience for Peter, +but he wouldn't have owned it. They groped their way down the saloon +stairs, and through a crowd to the little bar. "What's yours?" demanded +Donovan. + +"Oh, I'll take the Major's advice," said Peter. "Brandy-and-soda for me." + +"Soda finished, sir," said the bar steward. + +"All right: two brandies-and-water, steward," said Donovan, and swung a +revolving seat near round for Graham. As he took it, Peter noticed the +man opposite. His badge was a Maltese Cross, but he wore a flannel collar +and tie. Their eyes met, but the other stared a bit stonily. For the +second time, Peter wished he hadn't a clerical collar. The next he was +taking the glass from the South African. "Cheerio," said Donovan. + +"Here's to you," said Peter, and leaned back with an assumption of ease. + +He had a strange sense of unreality. No fool and no Puritan, he had +naturally, however, been little in such an atmosphere since ordination. +He would have had a drink in Park Lane with the utmost ease, and he would +have argued, over it, that the clergy were not nearly so out of touch +with men as the papers said. But down here, in the steamer's saloon, +surrounded by officers, in an atmosphere of indifference to him and his +office, he felt differently. He was aware, dimly, that for the past five +years situations in which he had been had been dominated by him, and that +he, as a clergyman, had been continually the centre of concern. Talk, +conduct, and company had been rearranged when he came in, and it had +happened so often that he had ceased to be aware of it. But now he was +a mere unit, of no particular importance whatever. No one dreamed of +modifying himself particularly because a clergyman was present. Peter +clung to the belief that it was not altogether so, but he was +sufficiently conscious of it. And he was conscious of liking it, of +wanting to sink back in it as a man sinks back in an easy-chair. He +felt he ought not to do so, and he made a kind of mental effort to +pull himself together. + +Up on the deck the world was very fair. The French coast was now clearly +visible, and even the houses of the town, huddled together as it seemed, +but dominated by a church on the hill. Behind them, a sister ship +containing Tommies ploughed steadily along, serene and graceful in the +sunlight, and above an airship of silvery aluminum, bearing the +tricoloured circle of the Allies, kept pace with the swift ship without +an effort. Four destroyers were visible, their low, dark shapes ploughing +regularly along at stated intervals, and someone said a fifth was out of +sight behind. People were already beginning to take off their life-belts, +and the sailors were clearing a place for the gangway. Peter found that +Donovan had known what he was about, for his party would be close to the +gangway without moving. He began to wonder uneasily what would be done +on landing, and to hope that Donovan would be going his way. No one had +said a word about it. He looked round for Jenks' nurse, but couldn't see +her. + +It was jolly entering the port. The French houses and fishing-boats +looked foreign, although one could hardly say why. On the quay was a big +notice: "All officers to report at once to the M.L.O." Farther on was a +board bearing the letters "R.T.O." ... But Peter hardly liked to ask. + +In fact, everything went like clockwork. He presently found himself +in a queue, behind Donovan, of officers who were passing a small +window like a ticket office. Arriving, he handed in papers, and was +given them back with a brief "All right." Beyond, Donovan had secured +a broken-down-looking one-horse cab. "You'll be coming to the club, +padre?" he asked. "Chuck in your stuff. This chap'll take it down and +Bevan with it. Let's walk. It isn't far." + +Jenks elected to go with his friend the Major, and Donovan and Peter +set off over the cobbles. They joined up with another small group, and +for the first time Peter had to give his name as he was introduced. He +forgot the others, as soon as he heard them, and they forgot his. A big +Dublin Fusilier officer with a tiny moustache, that seemed ludicrous +in his great face, exchanged a few sentences with him. They left the +quay and crossed a wide space where a bridge debouched towards the +railway-station. Donovan, who was walking ahead, passed on, but the +Fusilier suggested to Peter that they might as well see the R.T.O. at +once about trains. Entering the station gates, the now familiar initials +appearing on a row of offices before them to the left, Peter's companion +demanded the train to Albert. + +"Two-thirty a.m., change at Amiens, sir," said a clerk in uniform within, +and the Fusilier passed on. + +"What time is the Rouen train?" asked Peter in his turn, and was told +9.30 p.m. + +"You're in luck, padre," said the other. "It's bally rotten getting in at +two-thirty, and probably the beastly thing won't go till five. Still, it +might be worse. You can get on board at midnight, and with luck get to +sleep. If I were you, I'd be down here early for yours--crowded always, +it is. Of course, you'll dine at the club?" + +Peter supposed he would. + +The club entrance was full up with officers, and more and more kept +pouring in. Donovan was just leaving the counter on the right with some +tickets in his hand as they pushed in. "See you later," he called out. +"I've got to sleep here, and I want to leave my traps." + +Peter wondered where, but was too much occupied in keeping well behind +the Fusilier to think much. At a kind of counter a girl in a W.A.A.C. +uniform was serving out tickets of one sort and another, and presently +the two of them were before her. For a few francs one got tickets for +lunch, dinner, bed, a bath, and whatever else one wanted, but Peter +had no French money. The Fusilier bought him the first two, however, +and together they forced their way out into the great lounge. "Half +an hour before lunch," said his new companion, and then, catching sight +of someone: "Hullo, Jack, you back? Never saw you on the boat. Did +you ..." His voice trailed off as he crossed the room. + +Peter looked around a little disconsolately. Then he made his way to a +huge lounge-chair and threw himself into it. + +All about him was a subdued chatter. A big fire burned in the stove, +and round it was a wide semicircle of chairs. Against the wall were +more, and a small table or two stood about. Nearly every chair had its +occupant--all sorts and conditions of officers, mostly in undress, and he +noticed some fast asleep, with muddied boots. There was a look on their +faces, even in sleep, and Peter guessed that some at least were down +from the line on their way to a brief leave. More and more came in +continuously. Stewards with drinks passed quickly in and out about them. +The Fusilier and his friend were just ordering something. Peter opened +his case and took out a cigarette, tapping it carefully before lighting +it. He began to feel at home and lazy and comfortable, as if he had been +there before. + +An orderly entered with envelopes in his hand. "Lieutenant Frazer?" he +called, and looked round inquiringly. There was no reply, and he turned +to the next. "Captain Saunders?" Still no reply. "Lieutenant Morcombe?" +Still no reply. "Lieutenant Morcombe," he called again. Nobody took any +interest, and he turned on his heel, pushed the swing-door open, and +departed. + +Then Donovan came in, closely followed by Bevan. Peter got up and made +towards them. "Hullo!" said Bevan. "Have an appetiser, padre. Lunch will +be on in twenty minutes. What's yours, skipper?" + +The three of them moved on to Peter's chair, and Bevan dragged up +another. Peter subsided, and Donovan sat on the edge. Peter pulled +out his cigarette-case again, and offered it. Bevan, after one or two +ineffectual attempts, got an orderly at last. + +"Well, here's fun," he said. + +"Cheerio," said Peter. He remembered Donovan had said that in the saloon. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Jenks being attached to the A.S.C. engaged in feeding daily more than +100,000 men in the Rouen area, Peter and he travelled together. By the +latter's advice they reached the railway-station soon after 8.30, but +even so the train seemed full. There were no lights in the siding, and +none whatever on the train, so that it was only by matches that one could +tell if a compartment was full or empty, except in the case of those from +which candle-light and much noise proclaimed the former indisputably. At +last, however, somewhere up near the engine, they found a second-class +carriage, apparently unoccupied, with a big ticket marked "Reserved" upon +it. Jenks struck a match and regarded this critically. "Well, padre," he +said, "as it doesn't say for whom it is reserved, I guess it may as +well be reserved for us. So here goes." He swung up and tugged at the +door, which for some time refused to give. Then it opened suddenly, and +Second-Lieutenant Jenks, A.S.C., subsided gracefully and luridly on the +ground outside. Peter struck another match and peered in. It was then +observed that the compartment was not empty, but that a dark-haired, +lanky youth, stretched completely along one seat, was regarding them +solemnly. + +"This carriage is reserved," he said. + +"Yes," said Jenks cheerfully, "for us, sir. May I ask what you are doing +in it?" + +The awakened one sighed. "It's worked before, and if you chaps come in +and shut the door quickly, perhaps it will work again. Three's not too +bad, but I've seen six in these perishing cars. Come in quickly, for the +Lord's sake!" + +Peter looked round him curiously. Two of the four windows were broken, +and the glory had departed from the upholstery. There was no light, and +it would appear that a heavier body than that designed for it had +travelled upon the rack. Jenks was swearing away to himself and trying +to light a candle-end. Peter laughed. + +"Got any cards?" asked the original owner. + +"Yes," said Jenks. "Got any grub?" + +"Bath-olivers and chocolate and half a water-bottle of whisky," replied +the original owner. "And we shall need them." + +"Good enough," said Jenks. "And the padre here has plenty of sandwiches, +for he ordered a double lot." + +"Do you play auction, padre?" queried what turned out, in the +candle-light, to be a Canadian. + +Peter assented; he was moderately good, he knew. + +This fairly roused the Canadian. He swung his legs off the seat, and +groped for the door. "Hang on to this dug-out, you men," he said, "and +I'll get a fourth. I kidded some fellows of ours with that notice just +now, but I know them, and I can get a decent chap to come in." + +He was gone a few minutes only; then voices sounded outside. "Been +looking for you, old dear," said their friend. "Only two sportsmen here +and a nice little show all to ourselves. Tumble in, and we'll get +cheerful. Not that seat, old dear. But wait a jiffy; let's sort things +out first." + + * * * * * + +They snorted out of the dreary tunnel into Rouen in the first daylight of +the next morning. Peter looked eagerly at the great winding river and the +glory of the cathedral as it towered up above the mists that hung over +the houses. There was a fresh taste of spring in the air, and the smoke +curled clear and blue from the slow-moving barges on the water. The bare +trees on the island showed every twig and thin branch, as if they had +been pencilled against the leaden-coloured flood beneath. A tug puffed +fussily upstream, red and yellow markings on its grimy black. + +Jenks was asleep in the corner, but he woke as they clattered across the +bridge. "Heigh-ho!" he sighed, stretching. "Back to the old graft again." + +Yet once more Peter began to collect his belongings. It seemed ages since +he had got into the train at Victoria, and he felt particularly grubby +and unshaven. + +"What's the next move?" he asked. + +Jenks eyed him. "Going to take a taxi?" he queried. + +"Where to?" said Peter. + +"Well, if you ask me, padre," he replied, "I don't see what's against a +decent clean-up and breakfast at the club. It doesn't much matter when I +report, and the club's handy for your show. I know the A.C.G.'s office, +because it's in the same house as the Base Cashier, and the club's just +at the bottom of the street. But it's the deuce of a way from the +station. If we can get a taxi, I vote we take it." + +"Right-o," agreed Peter. "You lead on." + +They tumbled out on the platform, and produced the necessary papers at +the exit labelled "British Officers Only." A red-capped military +policeman wrote down particulars on a paper, and in a few minutes they +were out among the crowd of peasantry in the booking-hall. Jenks pushed +through, and had secured a cab by the time Peter arrived. "There isn't a +taxi to be got, padre," he said, "but this'll do." + +They rolled off down an avenue of wintry trees, passed a wooden building +which Peter was informed was the English military church, and out on to +the stone-paved quay. To Peter the drive was an intense delight. A French +blue-coated regiment swung past them. "Going up the line," said Jenks. A +crowd of black troops marched by in the opposite direction. "Good Lord!" +said Jenks, "so the S.A. native labour has come." The river was full of +craft, but his mentor explained that the true docks stretched mile on +mile downstream. By a wide bridge lay a camouflaged steamer. "Hospital +ship," said Jenks. Up a narrow street could be seen the buttresses of the +cathedral; and if Peter craned his head to glance up, his companion was +more occupied in the great café at the corner a little farther on. But +it was, of course, deserted at that early hour. A flower-stall at the +corner was gay with flowers, and two French peasant women were arranging +the blooms. And then the fiacre swung into the Rue Joanne d'Arc, and +opposite a gloomy-looking entrance pulled up with a jerk. "Here we are," +said Jenks. "It's up an infernal flight of steps." + +The officers' club in Rouen was not monstrously attractive, but they got +a good wash in a little room that looked out over a tangle of picturesque +roofs, and finally some excellent coffee and bacon and eggs. + +Jenks lit a cigarette and handed one to Peter. "Better leave your traps," +he said. "I'll go up with you; I've nothing to do." + +Outside the street was filling with the morning traffic, and the two +walked up the slight hill to the accompaniment of a running fire of +comments and explanations from Jenks, "That's Cox's--useful place for +the first half of a month, but not much use to me, anyway, for the +second.... You ought to go to I that shop and buy picture post-cards, +padre; there's a topping girl who sells 'em.... Rue de la Grosse +Horloge--you can see the clock hanging over the road. The street runs +up to the cathedral: rather jolly sometimes, but nothing doing +now.... What's that? I don't know. Yes, I do, Palais de Justice or +something of that sort. Pretty old, I believe.... In those gardens is the +picture gallery; not been in myself, but I believe they've got some good +stuff.... That's your show, over there. Don't be long; I'll hang about." + +Peter crossed the street, and, following directions ascended some wooden +stairs. A door round the corner at the top was inscribed "A.C.G. (C. of +E.)," and he went up to it. There he cogitated: ought one to knock, or, +being in uniform, walk straight in? He could not think of any reason +why one should not knock being in uniform, so he knocked. + +"Come in," said a voice. + +He opened the door and entered. At a desk before him sat a rather elderly +man, clean-shaven, who eyed him keenly. On his left, with his back to +him, was a man in uniform pattering away busily on a typewriter, and, for +the rest, the room contained a few chairs, a coloured print of the Light +of the World over the fireplace, and a torn map. Peter again hesitated. +He wondered what was the rank of the officer in the chair, and if he +ought to salute. While he hesitated, the other said: "Good-morning. What +can I do for you?" + +Peter, horribly nervous, made a half-effort at saluting, and stepped +forward. "My name's Graham, sir," he said. "I've just come over, and was +told in the C.G.'s office in London to report to Colonel Chichester, +A.C.G., at Rouen." + +The other put him at his ease at once. He rose and held a hand out over +the littered desk. "How do you do, Mr. Graham?" he said. "We were +expecting you. I am the A.C.G. here, and we've plenty for you to do. +Take a seat, won't you? I believe I once heard you preach at my brother's +place down in Suffolk. You were at St. Thomas's, weren't you, down by the +river?" + +Peter warmed to the welcome. It was strangely familiar, after the past +twenty-four hours, to hear himself called "Mr." and, despite the uniforms +and the surroundings, he felt he might be in the presence of a vicar in +England. Some of his old confidence began to return. He replied freely +to the questions. + +Presently the other glanced at his watch. "Well," he said, "I've got to +go over to H.Q., and you had better be getting to your quarters. Where +did I place Captain Graham, Martin?" + +The orderly at the desk leaned sideways and glanced at a paper pinned on +the desk. "No. 5 Rest Camp, sir," he said. + +"Ah, yes, I remember now. You can get a tram at the bottom of the street +that will take you nearly all the way. It's a pretty place, on the edge +of the country. You'll find about one thousand men in camp, and the +O.C.'s name is--what is it, Martin?" + +"Captain Harold, sir." + +"Harold, that's it. A decent chap. The men are constantly coming and +going, but there's a good deal to do." + +"Is there a chapel in the camp?" asked Peter. + +"Oh, no, I don't think so. You'll use the canteen. There's a quiet room +there you can borrow for celebrations. There's a P.O.W. camp next door +one way and a South African Native Labour Corps lot the other. But they +have their own chaplains. We'll let you down easy at first, but you might +see if you can fix up a service or so for the men in the forest. There's +a Labour Company out there cutting wood. Maybe you'll be able to get a +lift out in a car, but get your O.C. to indent for a bicycle if there +isn't one. Drop in and see me some day and tell me how you are getting +on, I'll find you some more work later on." + +Peter got up. The other held out his hand, which Peter took, and then, +remembering O.T.C. days at Oxford, firmly and, unblushingly saluted. The +Colonel made a little motion. "Good-bye," he said, and Peter found +himself outside the door. + +"No. 5 Rest. Camp;" said Jenks a moment later: "you're in luck, padre. +It's a topping camp, and the skipper is an awfully good sort. Beast of a +long way out, though. You'll have to have a taxi now." + +"The A.C.G. said a tram would do," said Peter. + +"Then he talked through his blooming hat," replied the other. "He's +probably never been there in his little life. It's two miles beyond the +tram terminus if it's a yard. My place is just across the river, and +there's a ferry that pretty well drops you there. Tell you what I'll do. +I'll see you down and then skip over." + +"What about your stuff, though?" queried Peter. + +"Oh? bless you, I can get a lorry to collect that. That's one use in +being A.S.C., at any rate." + +"It's jolly decent of you," said Peter. + +"Not a bit, old dear," returned the other. "You're the right sort, padre, +and I'm at a loose end just now. Besides, I'd like to see old Harold. +He's one of the best. Come on." + +They found a taxi this time, near the Gare du Vert, and ran quickly out, +first over cobbles, then down a wide avenue with a macadamised surface +which paralleled the river, downstream. + +"Main road to Havre," volunteered Jenks. "I've been through once or twice +with our stuff. It's a jolly pretty run, and you can lunch in Candebec +with a bit of luck, which is one of the beauty-spots of the Seine, you +know." + +The road gave on open country in a few miles, though there were camps +to be seen between it and the river, with wharves and buildings at +intervals, and ahead a biggish waterside village. Just short of that +they pulled up. A notice-board remarked "No. 5 Rest Camp," and Peter +saw he had arrived. + +The sun was well up by this time, and his spirits with it. The country +smiled in the clear light. Behind the camp fields ran up to a thick wood +through which wound a road, and the river was just opposite them. A +sentry came to attention as they passed in, sloped arms, and saluted. +Peter stared at him. "You ought to take the salute, padre," said Jenks; +"you're senior to me, you know." + +They passed down a regular street of huts, most of which had little +patches of garden before them in which the green of some early spring +flowers was already showing, and stopped before the orderly-room. Jenks +said he would look in and see if "the skipper" were inside, and in a +second or two came out with a red-faced, cheerful-looking man, whom +he introduced as Captain Harold. With them was a tall young Scots officer +in a kilt, whom Peter learned was Lieutenant Mackay of their mess. + +"Glad to see you, padre," said Harold. "Our last man wasn't up to much, +and Jenks says you're a sport. I've finished in there, so come on to the +mess and let's have a spot for luck. Come on, Scottie. Eleven o'clock's +all right for you, isn't it?" + +"Shan't say no," said the gentleman addressed, and they passed behind the +orderly-room and in at an open door. + +Peter glanced curiously round. The place was very cheerful--a fire +burning and gay pictures on the wall. "Rather neat, isn't it, padre?" +queried Harold. "By the way, you've got to dub up a picture. Everyone in +the mess gives one. There's a blank space over there that'll do nicely +for a Kirschner, if you're sport enough for that, Jenko'll show you where +to get a topper. What's yours, old son?" + +"Same as usual, skipper," said Jenks, throwing himself into a chair. + +Harold walked across to a little shuttered window and tapped. A man's +face appeared in the opening, "Four whiskies, Hunter--that's all right, +padre?" + +"Yes," said Peter, and walked to the fire, while the talk became general. + +"First time over?" queried Mackay. + +"Well, how's town?" asked Harold. "Good shows on? I ought to be due next +month, but I think I'll! wait a bit. Want to get over in the spring and +see a bit of the country too. What do they think of the war over there, +Jenko?" + +"It's going to be over by summer. There's a big push coming off this +spring, and Fritz can't stand much more. He's starving, and has no +reserves worth talking of. The East does not matter, though the doings +at Salonika have depressed them no end. This show's going to be won on +the West, and that quickly. Got it, old bean?" + +"Good old Blighty!" ejaculated Harold. "But they don't really believe all +that, do they, padre?" + +"They do," said Peter. "And, to tell you the truth, I wondered if +I'd be over in time myself. Surely the Yanks must come in and make +a difference." + +"This time next year, perhaps, though I doubt it. What do you think, +Scottie?" + +"Oh, ask another! I'm sick of it. Say, skipper, what about that run out +into the forest you talked of?" + +"Good enough. Would you care to go, padre? There's a wood-cuttin' crowd +out there, and I want to see 'em about firewood. There's a car possible +to-day, and we could all pack in." + +"Count me out," said Jenks. "I'll have to toddle over and report. Sorry, +all the same." + +"I'd love it," said Peter. "Besides, the A.C.G. said I was to look up +those people." + +"Oh, well done. It isn't a joy-ride at all, then. Have another, padre, +and let's get off. No? Well, I will. How's yours, Scottie?" + +Ten minutes later the three of them got into a big car and glided +smoothly off, first along the river, and then up a steep road into the +forest. Peter, fresh from London, lay back and enjoyed it immensely. He +had no idea Normandy boasted such woods, and the world looked very good +to him. It was all about as different from what he had imagined as it +could possibly have been. He just set himself to appreciate it. + +The forest was largely fir and pine, and the sunlight glanced down the +straight trunks and patterned on the carpet beneath. Hollies gleamed +green against the brown background, and in an open space of bare beech +trees the littered ground was already pricked with the new green of the +wild hyacinth. Now and again the rounded hills gave glimpses of the far +Normandy plain across the serpentine river, then would as suddenly close +in on them again until the car seemed to dart between the advancing +battalions of the forest as though to escape capture. At length, in +one such place, they leaped forward up a short rise, then rushed +swiftly downhill, swung round a corner, and came out on what had +become all but a bare tableland, set high so that one could see +distant valleys--Boscherville, Duclair--and yet bare, for the timber +had been all but entirely cut down. + +Five hundred yards along this road brought them to a small encampment. +There were some lines of Nysson huts, a canteen with an inverted triangle +for sign, some tents, great stacks of timber and of smaller wood, a few +lorries drawn up and silent, and, beyond, two or three buildings of wood +set down by themselves, with a garden in front, and a notice "Officers' +Quarters." Here, then, Captain Harold stopped the car, and they got out. +There were some jovial introductions, and presently the whole party set +off across the cleared space to where, in the distance, one could see +the edge of the forest. + +Peter did not want to talk, and dropped a little behind. Harold and the +O.C. of the forestry were on in front, and Mackay, with a junior local +officer, were skirmishing about on the right, taking pot-shots with small +chunks of wood at the stumps of trees and behaving rather like two +school-boys. + +The air was all heavy with resinous scent, and the carpet beneath soft +with moss and leaves and fragrant slips of pine. Here and there, on a +definite plan, a small tree had been spared, and when he joined the men +ahead, Peter learned how careful were the French in all this apparently +wholesale felling. In the forest, as they saw as they reached it, the +lines were numbered and lettered and in some distant office every +woodland group was known with its place and age. There are few foresters +like the French, and it was cheering to think that this great levelling +would, in a score of years, do more good than harm. + +Slowly biting into the untouched regiments of trees were the men, helped +in their work by a small power engine. The great trunks were lopped and +roughly squared here, and then dragged by motor traction to a slide, +which they now went to view. It was a fascinating sight. The forest ended +abruptly on a high hill, and below, at their feet, wound the river. Far +down, working on a wharf that had been constructed of piles driven into +the mud, was a Belgian detachment with German prisoners, and near the +wharf rough sheds housed the cutting plant. Where they stood was the +head of a big slide, with back-up sides, and the forest giants, brought +to the top from the place where they were felled, were levered over, to +swish down in a cloud of dust to the waiting men beneath. + +"Well, skipper, what about the firewood?" asked Harold as they stood +gazing. + +"How much do you want?" asked the O.C. Forestry. + +"Oh, well, what can you let me have? You've got stacks of odd stuff +about; surely you can spare a bit." + +"It's clean agin regulations, but could you send for it?" + +"Rather! There's an A.S.C. camp below us, and the men there promised me +a lorry if I'd share the spoils with them. Will that do?" + +"All right. When will you send up?" + +"What's to-day? Wednesday? How about Sunday? I could put some boys on to +load up who'd like the jaunt. How would Sunday do?" + +"Capital. My chaps work on all day, of course, and I don't want to give +them extra, so send some of yours." + +Peter listened, and now cut in. + +"Excuse me, sir," he said, "but I was told I ought to try and get a +service of some sort out here. Could I come out on the lorry and hold +one?" + +"Delighted, padre, of course. I'll see what I can do for you. About +eleven? Probably you won't get many men as there are usually inspection +parades and some extra fatigues on Sunday, but I'll put it in orders. We +haven't had a padre for a long time." + +"Eleven would suit me," said Peter, "if Captain Harold thinks the lorry +can get up here by that time. Will it, sir?" + +"Oh, I should think so, and, anyway, an hour or so won't make much +difference. If I can, I'll come with you myself. But, I say, we ought +to be getting back now. It will be infernally late for luncheon." + +"Come and have a drink before you start, anyway," said the O.C.; and he +led the way back to the camp and into an enclosure made of bushes and +logs in the rear of the mess, where rustic seats and a table had been +constructed under the shade of a giant oak. "It's rattling here in +summer," he said, "and we have most of our meals out of doors. Sit +down, won't you? Orderly!" + +"By Jove! you people are comfortable out here," said Harold. "Wish I had +a job of this sort." + +"Oh, I don't know, skipper; it would feed you up after a while, I think. +It's bally lonely in the evening, and we can't always get a car to town. +It's a damned nuisance getting out again, too." Then, as the orderly +brought glasses and a bottle: "Have a spot. It's Haig and Haig, Mackay, +and the right, stuff." + +"Jolly good, sir," said that worthy critically. "People think because +I don't talk broad Scots I'm no Highlander, but when it comes to the +whisky I've got a Scottish thirst. Say when, sir." + +Peter had another because he was warm with the sense of good comradeship, +and was warmer still when he climbed into the car ten minutes later. Life +seemed so simple and easy; and he was struck with the cheeriness of his +new friends, and the ready welcome to himself and his duty. He waved to +the O.C. "See you Sunday, sir," he called, out, "'bout eleven. You won't +forget to put it in orders, will you? Cheerio." + +"Let's go round by the lower road, skipper," said Mackay. "We can look +in at that toppin' little pub--what's its name, Croix something?--and +besides, the surface is capital down there." + +"And see Marie, eh? But don't forget you've got a padre aboard." + +"Oh, he's all right, and if he's going to be out here, it's time he knew +Marie." + +Graham laughed. "Carry on," he said. "It's all one to me where we go, +skipper." + +He lay back more comfortably than ever, and the big car leaped forward +through the forest, ever descending towards the river level. Soon the +trees thinned, and they were skirting ploughed fields. Presently they ran +through a little village, where a German prisoner straightened himself +from his work in a garden and saluted. Then through a wood which suddenly +gave a vista of an avenue to a stately house, turreted in the French +style, a quarter of a mile away; then over a little stream; then round a +couple of corners, past a dreamy old church, and a long immemorial wall, +and so out into the straight road along the river. The sun gleamed on the +water, and there were ships in view, a British and a couple of Norwegian +tramps, ploughing slowly down to the sea. On the far bank the level of +the land was low, but on this side only some narrow apple-orchards and +here and there lush water-meadows separated them from the hills. + +The Croix de Guerre stood back from the road in a long garden just where +a forest bridle-path wound down through a tiny village to the main road. +Their chauffeur backed the car all but out of sight into this path after +they climbed out, and the three of them made for a sidedoor in a high +wall. Harold opened it and walked in. The pretty trim little garden had +a few flowers in bloom, so sheltered was it, and Mackay picked a red +rosebud as they walked up the path. + +Harold led the way without ceremony into a parlour that opened off a +verandah, and, finding it empty, opened a door beyond. "Marie! Marie!" +he called. + +"Ah, Monsieur le Capitaine, I come," came a girl's voice, and Marie +entered. Peter noticed how rapidly she took them all in, and how cold +were the eyes that nevertheless sparkled and greeted Harold and Mackay +with seeming gaiety. She was short and dark and not particularly +good-looking, but she had all the vivacity and charm of the French. + +"Oh, monsieur, where have you been for so long? I thought you had +forgotten La Croix de Guerre altogether. It's the two weeks--no, +_three_--since you come here. The gentlemen will have déjeuner? And +perhaps a little aperitif before?" + +"Bon jour, Marie," began the Captain in clumsy French, and then abandoned +the attempt. "I could not come, Marie, you know. C'est la guerre. Much +work each day." + +"Ah, non, monsieur cannot cheat me. He had found another cafe and another +girl.... Non, non, monsieur, it is not correct;" and the girl drew +herself up with a curiously changed air as Harold clumsily reached out +towards her, protesting. "And you have a curé here--how do you say, a +chapelain?" and Marie beamed on Peter. + +The two officers looked at him and laughed. "What can I bring you, +Monsieur le Capitaine le Curé?" demanded the girl. "Vermuth? Cognac?" + +Mackay slipped from the edge of the table on which he had been sitting +and advanced towards her, speaking fluent French, with a curious +suggestion of a Scotch accent that never appeared in his English. Peter +watched with a smile on his face and a curious medley of feelings, while +the Lieutenant explained, that they could not stop to lunch, that they +would take three mixed vermuth, and that he would come and help her get +them. They went out together, Marie protesting, and Harold, lighting a +cigarette and offering one to Peter, said with a laugh: "He's the boy, is +Mackay. Wish I could sling the lingo like him. It's a great country, +padre." + +In a minute or two the pair of them came back, Marie was wearing the rose +at the point of the little _décolleté_ of her black dress, and was all +over smiles. She carried a tray with glasses and a bottle. Mackay carried +the other. With a great show, he helped her pour out, and chatted away in +French while they drank. + +Harold and Peter talked together, but the latter caught scraps of the +others' conversation. Mackay wanted to know, apparently, when she would +be next in town, and was urging a date on her. Peter caught "Rue Jeanne +d'Arc," but little more, and Harold was insistent on a move in a few +minutes. They skirmished at the door saying "Good-bye," but it was with +an increased feeling of the warmth and jollity of his new life that Peter +once more boarded the car. This time Mackay got in front and Harold +joined Graham behind. As they sped off, Peter said: + +"By Jove, skipper, you do have a good time out here!" + +Harold flicked off the ash of his cigarette. "So, so, padre," he said. +"But the devil's loose. It's all so easy; I've never met a girl yet who +was not out for a spree. Of course, we don't see anything of the real +French ladies, though, and this isn't the line. By God! when I think of +the boys up there, I feel a beast sometimes. But I can't help it; they +won't pass me to go up, and it's no use growling down here because of +it." + +"I suppose not," said Peter, and leaned back reflecting for the rest of +the way. He felt as if he had known these men all his days, and as if his +London life had been lived on another planet. + +After lunch he was given a cubicle, and spent an hour or two getting +unpacked. That done, just as he was about to sit down to a letter, there +came a knock at the door, and Mackay looked in. + +"You there, padre?" he asked. "There's a lorry going up to town that has +just brought a batch of men in: would you care to come? I've got to do +some shopping, and we could dine at the club and come back afterwards." + +Peter jumped up. "Topping," he said. "I want to get one or two things, +and I'd love it." + +"Come on, then," said the other. "I'll meet you at the gate in five +minutes." + +Peter got on his Sam Browne and went out, and after a bit Mackay joined +him. They jolted up to town, and went first to the Officers' Store at the +E.F.C. Mackay bought some cigarettes, and Peter some flannel collars and +a tie. Together the pair of them strolled round town, and put their heads +in at the cathedral at Peter's request. He had a vision of old grey stone +and coloured glass and wide soaring spaces, but his impatient companion +hauled him out. "Of course, you'll want to see round, padre," he said, +"but you can do it some other time and with somebody else. I've seen it +once, and that's enough for me. Let's get on to the club and book a +table; there's usually a fearful crowd." + +Peter was immensely impressed with the crowd of men, the easy greetings +of acquaintances, and the way in which one was ignored by the rest. He +was introduced to several people, who were all very cheerful, and in the +long dining-room they eventually sat down to table with two more officers +whom the Scotsman knew. Peter was rather taken with a tall man, slightly +bald, of the rank of Captain, who was attached to a Labour Corps. He had +travelled a great deal, and been badly knocked about in Gallipoli. In a +way, he was more serious than the rest, and he told Peter a good deal +about the sights of the town--the old houses and churches, and where was +the best glass, and so on. Mackay and the fourth made merry, and Mackay, +who called the W.A.A.C. waitress by her Christian name, was plainly +getting over-excited. Peter's friend was obviously a little scornful. +"You'll meet a lot of fools here, padre," he said, "old and young. The +other day I was having tea here when two old buffers came in--dug-outs, +shoved into some job or another--and they sat down at the table next +mine. I couldn't help hearing what they said. The older and fatter, a +Colonel, looked out of window, and remarked ponderously: + +"'By the way, wasn't Joan of Arc born about here?' + +"'No,' said the second; 'down in Alsace-Lorraine, I believe. She was +burnt here, and they threw her ashes into the Grand Pont.'" + +Peter laughed silently, and the other smiled at him. "Fact," he said. +"That's one type of ass, and the second is (dropping his voice) your +friend here and his like, if you don't mind my saying so. Look at him +with that girl now. Somebody'll spot it, and they'll keep an eye on him. +Next time he meets her on the sly he'll be caught out, and be up for it. +Damned silly fool, I think! The bally girl's only a waitress from Lyons." + +Peter glanced at Mackay. He was leaning back holding the menu, which she, +with covert glances at the cashier's desk, was trying to take away from +him. "Isobel," he said, "I say, come here--no, I really want to see +it--tell me, when do you get out next?" + +"We don't get no leave worth talking of, you know," she said. "Besides, +you don't mean it. You can't talk to me outside. Oh, shut up! I must go. +They'll see us," and she darted away. + +"Damned pretty girl, eh?" said Mackay contentedly. "Don't mind me, padre. +It's only a bit of a joke. Come on, let's clear out." + +The four went down the stairs together and stood in a little group at +the entrance-door. "Where you for now, Mac?" asked the second officer, +a subaltern of the West Hampshires. + +"Don't know, old sport. I'm with the padre. What you for, padre?" + +"I should think we had better be getting back," said Peter, glancing at +the watch on his wrist. "We've a long way to go." + +"Oh, hang it all, not yet! It's a topping evenin'. Let's stroll up the +street." + +Peter glanced at the Labour Corps Captain, who nodded, and they two +turned off together. "There's not much to do," he said. "One gets sick of +cinemas, and the music-hall is worse, except when one is really warmed up +for a razzle-dazzle. I don't wonder these chaps go after wine and women +more than they ought. After all, most of them are just loose from home. +You must make allowances, padre. It's human nature, you know." + +Peter nodded abstractedly. It was the second time he had heard that. +"It's all so jolly different from what I expected," he said meditatively. + +"I know," said the other. "Not much danger or poverty or suffering here, +seemingly. But you never can tell. Look at those girls: I bet you would +probably sum them up altogether wrongly if you tried." + +Peter glanced at a couple of French women who were passing. The pair were +looking at them, and in the light of a brilliantly lit cinema they showed +up clearly. The paint was laid on shamelessly; their costumes, made in +one piece, were edged with fur and very gay. Each carried a handbag and +one a tasselled stick. "Good-night, chérie," said one, as they passed. + +Peter gave a little shudder. "How ghastly!" he said. "How can anyone +speak to them? Are there many like that about?" He glanced back again: +"Why, good heavens," he cried, "one's Marie!" + +"Hullo, padre," said his friend, the ghost of a smile beginning about his +lips. "Where have you been? Marie! By Jove! I shall have to report you to +the A.C.G." + +Peter blushed furiously. "It was at an inn," he said, "this morning, as +we were coming back from the forest. But she seemed so much better then, +Mackay knew her; why, I heard him say...." + +He glanced back at the sudden recollection. The two girls were speaking +to the two others, twenty paces or so behind. "Oh," he exclaimed, "look +here!..." + +The tall Labour man slipped his arm in his and interrupted. "Come on, +padre," he said; "you can't do anything. Mackay's had a bit too much as +it is, and the other chap is looking for a night out. We'll stroll past +the cathedral, and I'll see you a bit of the way home." + +"But how damnable, how beastly!" exclaimed Peter. "It makes one +sick!..." He broke off, and the two walked on in silence. + +"Is there much of that?" Peter demanded suddenly. + +The other glanced at him. "You'll find out without my telling you," he +said; "but don't be too vehement till you've got your eyes open. There +are worse things." + +"There can't be," broke in Peter. "Women like that, and men who will go +with them, aren't fit to be called men and women. There's no excuse. It's +bestial, that's what it is." + +"You wouldn't speak to one?" queried the other. + +"Good heavens, no! Do you forget what I am?" + +"No, I don't, padre, but look here, I'm not a Christian, and I take a +common-sense view of these things, but I'm bound to say I think you're on +the wrong tack, too. Didn't Christ have compassion on people like that? +Didn't He eat and drink with publicans and sinners?" + +"Yes, to convert them. You can't name the two things in the same breath. +He had compassion on the multitude of hungry women and children and +misguided men, but He hated sin. You can't deny that." Peter recalled his +sermon; he was rather indignant, unreasonably, that the suggestion should +have been made. + +"So?" said the other laconically. "Well, you know more about it than +I do, I suppose. Come on; we go down here." + +They parted at the corner by the river again, and Peter set out for his +long walk home alone. It was a lovely evening of stars, cool, but not too +cold, and at first the streets were full of people. He kept to the curb +or walked in the road till he was out of the town, taking salutes +automatically, his thoughts far away. The little _cafés debits_ were +crowded, largely by Tommies. He was not accosted again, for he walked +fast, but he saw enough as he went. + +More than an hour later he swung into camp, and went to his room, lit a +candle, and shut the door. Tunic off, he sat on the edge of the camp-bed +and stared at the light. He seemed to have lived a year in a day, and he +felt unclean. He thought of Hilda, and then actually smiled, for Hilda +and this life seemed so incredibly far apart. He could not conceive of +her even knowing of its existence. Yet, he supposed, she knew, as he had +done, that such things were. He had even preached about them.... It +suddenly struck him that he had talked rot in the pulpit, talked of +things of which he knew nothing. Yet, of course, his attitude had been +right. + +He wondered if he should speak to Mackay, and, so wondering, fell forward +on his knees. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Hilda's religion was, like the religion of a great many Englishwomen of +her class, of a very curious sort. She never, of course, analysed it +herself, and conceivably she would object very strongly to the +description set down here, but in practical fact there is no doubt about +the analysis. To begin with, this conventional and charming young lady of +Park Lane had in common with Napoleon Bonaparte that Christianity meant +more to them both as the secret of social order than as the mystery of +the Incarnation. Hilda was convinced that a decent and orderly life +rested on certain agreements and conclusions in respect to marriage and +class and conduct, and that these agreements and conclusions were +admirably stated in the Book of Common Prayer, and most ably and +decorously advocated from the pulpit of St. John's. She would have said +that she believed the agreements and conclusions because of the Prayer +Book, but in fact she had primarily given in her allegiance to a social +system, and supported the Prayer Book because of its support of that. +Once a month she repeated the Nicene Creed, but only because, in the +nature of things, the Nicene Creed was given her once a month to repeat, +and she never really conceived that people might worry strenuously about +it, any more than she did. Being an intelligent girl, she knew, of +course, that people did, and occasionally preachers occupied the pulpit +of St. John's who were apparently quite anxious that she and the rest +of the congregation should understand that it meant this and not that, +or that and not this, according to the particular enthusiasm of the +clergyman of the moment. Sentence by sentence she more or less understood +what these gentlemen keenly urged upon her; as a whole she understood +nothing. She was far too much the child of her environment and age not +to perceive that Mr. Lloyd George's experiments in class legislation were +vastly more important. + +Peter, therefore, had always been a bit of an enigma to her. As a rule +he fitted in with the scheme of things perfectly well, for he was a +gentleman, he liked nice things, and he was splendidly keen on charity +organisation and the reform of abuses on right lines. But now and again +he said and did things which perturbed her. It was as if she had +gradually become complete mistress of a house, and then had suddenly +discovered a new room into which she peeped for a minute before it was +lost to her again and the door shut. It was no Bluebeard's chamber into +which she looked; it was much more that she had a suspicion that the room +contained a live mistress who might come out one day and dispute her own +title. She could tell how Peter would act nine times out of ten; she knew +by instinct, a great deal better than he did, the conceptions that ruled +his life; but now and again he would hesitate perplexedly as if at the +thought of something that she did not understand, or act suddenly in +response to an overwhelming flood of impulse whose spring was beyond her +control or even her surmise. Women mother all their men because men are +on the whole such big babies, but from a generation of babies is born +occasionally the master. Women get so used to the rule that they forget +the exception. When he comes, then, they are troubled. + +But this was not all Hilda's religion. For some mysterious reason this +product of a highly civilised community had the elemental in her. Men and +women both have got to eliminate all trace of sex before they can +altogether escape that. In other words, because in her lay latent the +power of birth, in which moment she would be cloistered alone in a dark +and silent room with infinity, she clung unreasonably and all but +unconsciously to certain superstitions which she shared with primitive +savages and fetish-worshippers. All of which seems a far cry from the War +Intercession Services at wealthy and fashionable St. John's, but it was +nothing more or less than this which was causing her to kneel on a high +hassock, elbows comfortably on the prayer-rail, and her face in her +hands, on a certain Friday evening in the week after Peter's arrival in +France, while the senior curate (after suitable pauses, during which her +mind was uncontrollably busy with an infinite number of things, ranging +from the doings of Peter in France to the increasing difficulty of +obtaining silk stockings), intoned the excellent stately English of +the Prayers set forth by Authority in Time of War. + +Two pews ahead of her knelt Sir Robert Doyle, in uniform. That simple +soldier was a bigger child than most men, and was, therefore, still +conscious of a number of unfathomable things about him, for the which +Hilda, his godchild, adored and loved him as a mother will adore her +child who sits in a field of buttercups and sees, not minted, nor +botanical, but heavenly gold. He was all the more lovable, because he +conceived that he was much bigger and stronger than she, and perfectly +capable of looking after her. In that, he was like a plucky boy who gets +up from his buttercups to tell his mother not to be frightened when a cow +comes into the field. + +They went out together, and greeted each other in the porch. +"Good-evening, child," said the soldier, with a smile. "And how's Peter?" + +Hilda smiled back, but after a rather wintry fashion, which the man was +quick to note. "I couldn't have told you fresh news yesterday," she said, +"but I had a letter this morning all about his first Sunday. He's at +Rouen at a rest camp for the present, though he thinks he's likely to be +moved almost at once; and he's quite well." + +"And then?" queried the other affectionately. + +"Oh, he doesn't know at all, but he says he doesn't think there's any +chance of his getting up the line. He'll be sent to another part where +there is likely to be a shortage of chaplains soon." + +"Well, that's all right, isn't it? He's in no danger at Rouen, at any +rate. If we go on as we're going on now, they won't even hear the guns +down there soon. Come, little girl, what's worrying you? I can see +there's something." + +They were in the street now, walking towards the park, and Hilda did not +immediately reply. Then she said: "What are you going to do? Can't you +come in for a little? Father and mother will be out till late, and you +can keep me company." + +He glanced at his watch. "I've got to be at the War Office later," he +said, "but my man doesn't reach town till after ten, so I will. The +club's not over-attractive these days. What with the men who think one +knows everything and won't tell, and the men who think they know +everything and want to tell, it's a bit trying." + +Hilda laughed merrily. "Poor Uncle Bob," she said, giving him her +childhood's name that had never been discontinued between them. "You +shall come home with me, and sit in father's chair, and have a still +decent whisky and a cigar, and if you're very good I'll read you part +of Peter's letter." + +"What would Peter say?" + +"Oh, he wouldn't mind the bits I'll read to you. Indeed, I think he'd +like it: he'd like to know what you think. You see, he's awfully +depressed; he feels he's not wanted out there, and--though I don't know +what he means--that things, religious things, you know, aren't real." + +"Not wanted, eh?" queried the old soldier. "Now, I wonder why he resents +that. Is it because he feels snubbed? I shouldn't be surprised if he had +a bit of a swelled head, your young man, you know, Hilda." + +"Sir Robert Doyle, if you're going to be beastly, you can go to your +horrid old club, and I only hope you'll be worried to death. Of course +it isn't that. Besides, he says everyone is very friendly and welcomes +him--only he feels that that makes it worse. He thinks they don't +want--well, what he has to give, I suppose." + +"What he has to give? But what in the world has he to give? He has to +take parade services, and visit hospitals and" (he was just going to say +"bury the dead," but thought it hardly sounded pleasant), "make himself +generally decent and useful, I suppose. That's what chaplains did when I +was a subaltern, and jolly decent fellows they usually were." + +"Well, I know. That's what I should feel, and that's what I don't quite +understand. I suppose he feels he's responsible for making the men +religious--it reads like that. But you shall hear the letter yourself." + +Doyle digested this for a while in silence. Then he gave a sort of snort, +which is inimitable, but always accompanied his outbursts against things +slightly more recent than the sixties. It had the effect of rousing +Hilda, at any rate. + +"Don't, you dear old thing," she said, clutching his arm. "I know +exactly what you're going to say. Young men of your day minded their +business and did their duty, and didn't theorise so much. Very likely. +But, you see, our young men had the misfortune to be born a little later +than you. And they can't help it." She sighed a little. "It _is_ trying +sometimes.... But they're all right really, and they'll come back to +things." + +They were at the gate by now. Sir Robert stood aside to let her pass. "I +know, dear," he said, "I'm an old fogey. Besides, young Graham has good +stuff in him--I always said so. But if he's on the tack of trying to +stick his fingers into people's souls, he's made a mistake in going to +France. I know Tommy--or I did know him. (The Lord alone knows what's in +the Army these days.) He doesn't want that sort of thing. He swears and +he grouses and he drinks, but he respects God Almighty more than you'd +think, and he serves his Queen--I mean his King. A parade service is a +parade, and it's a bore at times, but it's discipline, and it helps in +the end. Like that little 'do' to-night, it helps. One comes away feelin' +one can stand a bit more for the sake of the decent, clean things of +life." + +Hilda regarded the fine, straight old man for a second as they stood, on +the top of the steps. Then her eyes grew a little misty. "God bless you, +Uncle Bob," she said. "You _do_ understand." And the two went in +together. + +Hilda opened the door of the study. "I'm going to make you comfortable +myself," she said. She pulled a big armchair round; placed a reading-lamp +on a small table and drew it close; and she made the old soldier sit in +the chair. Then she unlocked a little cupboard, and got out a decanter +and siphon and glass, and a box of cigars. She placed these by his side, +and stood back quizzically a second. Then she threw a big leather cushion +at his feet and walked to the switches, turning off the main light and +leaving only the shaded radiance of the reading-lamp. She turned the +shade of it so that the light would fall on the letter while she sat +on the cushion, and then she bent down, kissed her godfather, and went +to the door. "I won't be a moment, Uncle Bob," she said. "Help yourself, +and get comfortable." + +Five minutes later the door opened and she came in. As she moved into +the circle of light, the man felt an absurd satisfaction, as if he were +partly responsible for the dignified figure with its beautifully waved +soft, fair hair, of which he was so proud. She smiled on him, and sat +down at his feet, leaning back against his chair and placing her left +elbow on his knees. He laid a caressing hand on her arm, and then looked +steadily in front of him lest he should see more than she wished. + +Hilda rustled the sheets. "The first is all about me," she explained, +"and I'll skip that. Let me see--yes, here we are. Now listen. It's +rather long, but you mustn't say anything till I've finished." + +"'Saturday' (Peter's letter ran) I gave up to getting ready for Sunday, +though Harold' (he's the O.C. of the camp, Peter says, a jolly decent +sort of man) 'wanted me to go up town with him. I had had a talk with him +about the services, and had fixed up to have a celebration in the morning +in the Y.M.C.A. in camp--they have a quiet room, and there is a table in +it that one puts against the wall and uses for an altar--and an evening +service in the canteen-hall part of the place. I couldn't have a morning +service, as I was to go out to the forest camp, as I have told you.' He +said in his first letter how he had been motored out to see a camp in the +forest where they are cutting wood for something, and he had fixed up a +parade," said Hilda, looking up. Doyle nodded gravely, and she went on +reading: "'Harold said he'd like to take Communion, and that I could put +up a notice in the anteroom of the Officers' Mess. + +"'Well, I spent the morning preparing sermons. I thought I'd preach from +"The axe is laid to the root of the tree" in the forest, and make a sort +of little parable out of it for the men. I planned to say how Christ was +really watching and testing each one of us, especially out here, and to +begin by talking a bit about Germany, and how the axe was being laid to +that tree because it wouldn't bear good fruit. I couldn't get much for +the evening, so I thought I'd leave it, and perhaps say much the same as +the morning, only differently introduced. I went and saw the hut manager, +a very decent fellow who is a Baptist minister at home, and he said he'd +like to come in the morning. Well, I didn't know what to say to that; I +hated to hurt him, and, of course, he has no Baptist chapel out here; but +I didn't know what the regulations might be, and excused myself on those +grounds. + +"'Then in the afternoon I went round the camp. Oh, Hilda, I was fearfully +nervous--I don't know why exactly, but I was. The men were playing "crown +and anchor," and sleeping, and cleaning kit (this is a rest camp you +know), and it seemed so cold-blooded somehow. I told them anyone could +come in the evening if he wanted to, but that in the morning the service +was for Church of England communicants. I must say I was very bucked up +over the result. I had no end of promises, and those who were going to be +out in the evening said so straight out. Quite thirty said they'd come in +the morning, and they were very respectful and decent. Then I wrote out +and put up my notices. The mess ragged a bit about it, but quite decently +("Here's the padre actually going to do a bit of work!" and the usual +"I shall be a chaplain in the next war!"); and I mentioned to one or two +whom I knew to be Church of England that Captain Harold had said he would +come to the early service. Someone had told me that if the O.C. of a camp +comes, the others often will. After dinner we settled down to bridge, +and about ten-thirty I was just going off to bed when Harold came in with +two or three other men. Well, I hate to tell you, dear, but I promised +I'd write, and, besides, I do want to talk to somebody. Anyway, he was +what they call "merry," and he and his friends were full of talk about +what they'd done up town. I don't know that it was anything very bad, but +it was awful to me to think that this chap was going to communicate next +day. I didn't know what to do, but I couldn't say anything then, and I +slipped off to bed as soon as I could. They made a huge row in the +anteroom for some time, but at last I got to sleep. + +"'Next morning I was up early, and got things fixed up nicely. At eight +o'clock _one man_ came rather sheepishly--a young chap I'd seen the day +before--and I waited for some five minutes more. Then I began. About the +Creed, Harold came in, and so we finished the service. Neither of them +seemed to know the responses at all, and I don't think I have ever felt +more miserable. However, I had done all I could do, and I let it go at +that. I comforted myself that I would get on better in the forest, where +I thought there was to be a parade. + +"'We got out about eleven o'clock, and I went to the O.C.'s hut. He +was sitting in a deck chair reading a novel. He jumped up when he saw +me, and was full of apologies. He'd absolutely forgotten I was coming, +and so no notice had been given, and, anyway, apparently it isn't the +custom in these camps to have ordered parade services. He sent for the +Sergeant-Major, who said the men were mostly cleaning camp, but he +thought he could get some together. So I sat and talked for about twenty +minutes, and then went over. The canteen had been opened, and there were +about twenty men there. They all looked as if they had been forced in, +except one, who turned out to be a Wesleyan, and chose the hymns out of +the Y.M.C.A. books in the place. They had mission hymns, and the only one +that went well was "Throw out the life-line," which is really a rather +ghastly thing. We had short Matins, and I preached as I had arranged. The +men sat stiffly and looked at me. I don't know why, but I couldn't work +up any enthusiasm and it all seemed futile. Afterwards I tried to talk to +this Wesleyan corporal. He was great on forming a choir to learn hymns, +and then I said straight out that I was new to this sort of work, and I +hoped what I had said was all right. He said: "Yes, sir, very nice, I'm +sure; but, if you'll excuse me, what the men need is converting." + +"'Said I: "What exactly do you mean by that, corporal?" + +"'"Well, sir," he said "they want to be led to put their trust in the +Lord and get right with God. There's many a rough lad in this camp, sir. +If you knew what went on, you'd see it." + +"I said that I had told them God was watching them, and that we had to +ask His daily help to live clean, honest lives, and truly repent of our +sins. + +"'"Yes, you did, sir," he said. "That's what I say, sir, it was very +nice; only somehow these chaps have heard that before. It don't grip, +sir. Now, we had a preacher in our chapel once...." And he went on to +tell me of some revival mission. + +"'Well, I went back to the O.C. He wanted me to have a drink, and I did, +for, to tell you the truth, I felt like it. Then I got back to camp. + +"'In the afternoon I went round the lines again. Hilda, I _wish_ I could +tell you what I felt. Everyone was decent enough, but the men would get +up and salute as I came up, and by the very sound of their voices you +could tell how their talk changed as soon as they saw me. Mind you, they +were much more friendly than men at home, but I felt all the time out of +touch. They didn't want me, and somehow Christ and the Gospel seemed a +long way off. However, we had the evening service. The hut was fairly +full, which pleased me, and I preached a much more "Gospel" address than +in the morning. Some officers came, and then afterwards two or three of +us went out for a stroll and a talk. + +"'Among these officers was a tall chap I had met at the club, named +Langton. He had come down to see somebody in our mess, and had come on to +service. He is an extraordinarily nice person, different from most, a man +who thinks a lot and controls himself. He did most of the talking, and +began as we strolled up the hill. + +"'"Padre," he said, "how _does_ Christ save us?" + +"'I said He had died to obtain our forgiveness from God, and that, if we +trusted in Him, He would forgive and help us to live nobler and manlier +lives. (Of course, I said much more, but I see plainly that that is what +it all comes to.) + +"'When I had done, he walked on for a bit in silence, and then he said, +"Do you think the men understand that?" + +"'I said I thought and hoped they might. It was simple enough. + +"'"Well," he said, "it's hopeless jargon to me. If I try to analyse it, +I am knocked out right and left by countless questions; but leave that. +It is when I try to take you practically at your word that I find you are +mumbling a fetish. Forgive me, but it is so." + +"'I was a little annoyed and very troubled. "Do explain," I said. + +"'"All right, only you mustn't mind if I hurt you," he said. "Take _Trust +in Christ_--well, that either means that a man gets intoxicated by an +idea which does control his life, just as it would if he were intoxicated +by the idea _Trust in Buddha_, or else it comes to nothing. I can't +really trust in a dead man, or a man on the right hand of the throne of +God. What Tommy wants is a pal to lean on in the canteen and the street. +He wants somebody more real and more lovable and more desirable than the +girl who tempts him into sin. And he can't be found. Was he in your +service to-night? Can he be emotionally conjured up by 'Yield not to +temptation' or 'Dare to be a Daniel'? Be honest, padre--the thing is a +spectre of the imagination." + +"'I was absolutely silent. He went on: + +"'"You make much talk of sin and forgiveness. Well, Tommy doesn't +understand what you mean by sin. He is confused to bits about it; but +the main thing that stands out is that a man may break all the Ten +Commandments theologically and yet be a rattling good pal, as brave as +a lion, as merry as a cricket, and the life and soul and _Christ_ of a +platoon. That's the fact, and it is the one thing that matters. But there +is another thing: if a man sins, how is he to get forgiveness? What sort +of a God is it Who will wipe the whole blessed thing out because in a +moment of enthusiasm the sinner says he is sorry? If that's all sin is, +it isn't worth worrying about, and if that is all God is, He's not got +the makings of a decent O.C." + +"'"Good for you, skipper," said the other man. + +"'Langton rounded on him. "It isn't good for me or for anyone," he said. +"And I'll tell you what, my boy: all that I've said doesn't justify a man +making a beast of himself, which is what the majority of us do. I can see +that a man may very wisely get drunk at times, but he's a ---- fool to +get himself sodden with drink." (And he went on to more, Hilda, that I +can't write to you.) + +"'Well, I don't know what I said. I went back utterly miserable. Oh, +Hilda, I think I never ought to have come out here. Langton's right in a +way. We clergy have said the same thing so often that we forget how it +strikes a practical common-sense man. But there must be an answer +somewhere, if I only knew it. Meantime I'm like a doctor among the dying +who cannot diagnose the disease. I'm like a salesman with a shop full of +goods that nobody wants because they don't fulfil the advertisement. And +I never felt more utterly alone in my life. + +"'These men talk a different language from mine; they belong to another +world. They are such jolly good fellows that they are prepared to accept +me as a comrade without question, but as for my message, I might as well +be trying to cure smallpox by mouthing sonorous Virgil--only it is worse +than that, for they no longer even believe that the diagnosis is what I +say. And what gets over me is that they are, on the whole, decent chaps. +There's Harold--he's probably immoral and he certainly drinks too much, +but he's as unselfish as possible, and I feel in my bones he'd do +anything to help a friend. + +"'Of course, I hate their vices. The sights in the streets make me feel +positively sick. I wouldn't touch what they touch with a stick. When I +think of you, so honest and upright and clean....' Oh, but I needn't read +that, Uncle Bob." She turned over a page or so. "I think that's all. +No, just this: + +"'I've been made mess secretary, and I serve out coffee in the canteen +for a couple of hours every other day. That's about all there is to do. I +wish to Heaven I had an ordinary commission!" + +The girl's voice ceased with a suspicious suddenness, and the man's +hand tightened on her arm. For a minute they remained so, and then, +impulsively and unrestrained, she half-turned and sobbed out against his +knees: + +"Oh, Uncle Bob, I'm so unhappy! I feel so sorry for him. And--and--the +worst is, I don't really understand.... I don't see what worries him. Our +religion is good enough, I'm sure. Oh, I _hate_ those beasts of men out +there! Peter's too good for them. I wish he'd never gone. I feel as if +he'd never come back!" + +"There, there, my dear," said the old soldier, uncomfortably. "Don't take +on so. He'll find his feet, you know. It's not so bad as that. You can +trust him, can't you?" + +She nodded vigorously. "But what do _you_ think of it all?" she demanded. + +Sir Robert Doyle cleared his throat. "Well," he began, but stopped. To +him it was an extraordinarily hard thing to speak of religion, partly +because he cherished so whole-heartedly what he had got, and partly +because he had never formulated it, probably for that very reason. Sir +Robert could hardly have told his Maker what he believed about Him. When +he said the Creed he always said it with lowered voice and bowed head, as +one who considered very deeply of the matter, but in fact he practically +never considered at all.... + +"Well," he began again, "you see, dear, it's a strange time out there, +and it is a damned unpleasant age, if you'll excuse me. People can't take +anything these days without asking an infernal number of questions. Some +blessed Socialist'll begin to ask why a man should love his mother next, +and, not getting a scientific answer, argue that one shouldn't. As for +the men, they're all right, or they used to be. 'Love the Brotherhood. +Fear God. Honour the King'--that's about enough for you and me, I take +it, and Graham'll find it's enough for him. And he'll play the game, and +decent men will like him and get--er--helped, my dear. That's all there +is to it. But it's a pity," added the old Victorian Regular, "that these +blessed labour corps, and rest camps, and all the rest of it, don't have +parade services. The boy's bound to miss that. I'm hanged if I don't +speak about it!... And that reminds me.... Good Lord, it's ten o'clock! +I must go." + +He started up, Hilda rose, smiling a little. + +"That's better," said the old fellow; "must be a man, what? It's all a +bit of the war, you know." + +"Oh, Uncle Bob, you _are_ a dear. You do cheer one up, somehow. I wish +men were more like you." + +"No, you don't, my dear, don't you think it. I'm a back number, and you +know it, as well as any." + +"You're not, Uncle Bob. I won't have you say it. Give me a kiss and say +you don't mean it." + +"Well, well, Hilda, there is life in the old dog yet, and I must be off +and show it. No, I won't have another, not before duty. Good-night, dear, +and don't worry." + +Hilda saw him off, and waved her hand from the door. Then she went back +slowly to the study and looked round. She stood a few moments and then +switched off the lights, and went out and slowly upstairs. The maid was +in the bedroom, and she dismissed her, keeping her face turned away. In +front of her glass, she held her letter irresolutely a moment, and then +folded it and slipped it into a drawer. She lifted a photo from the +dressing-table and looked at it for a few minutes earnestly. Then she +went to her window, threw it up, and leaned on the sill, staring hard +over the dark and empty park. + +Outside, the General walked some distance before he found a taxi. He +walked fast for a man of his age, and ruminated as he went. It was his +way, and the way of his kind. Most of the modern sciences left him +unmoved, and although he would vehemently have denied it, he was the +most illogical of men. He held fast by a few good, sound, old-fashioned +principles, and the process of thought, to him, meant turning over a new +thing until he had got it into line with these principles. It was an +excellent method as far as it went, and it made him what he was--a +thoroughly sound and dependable servant of the State in any routine +business. + +At the War Office he climbed more slowly up the steps and into the lobby. +An officer was just coming out, and they recognised each other under the +shaded lights. "Hullo, Chichester, what are you doing here?" demanded +Doyle heartily. "Thought you were in France." + +"So I was, up to yesterday. I've just arrived. Orders." + +"Where have you been?" + +"Rouen. It's a big show now. Place full of new troops and mechanics in +uniform. To tell you the truth, Doyle, the Army's a different proposition +from what it was when you and I were in Egypt and India. But that's a +long time ago, old friend." + +"Rouen, eh? Now, that's a coincidence. A young chap I know has just gone +there, in your department. Graham--Peter Graham. Remember him?" + +"Oh, quite well. A very decent chap, I thought. Joined us ten days ago or +so. What about it? I forget for the moment where we put him." + +"Oh, nothing, nothing. He'll find his feet all right. But what's this +about no parade services these days?" + +"No parade services? We have 'em all right, when we can. Of course, it +depends a bit on the O.C., and in the Labour Corps especially it isn't +usually possible. It isn't like the line, old fellow, and even the line +isn't what we knew it. You can't have parade services in trenches, and +you can't have them much when the men are off-loading bully beef or +mending aeroplanes and that sort of thing. This war's a big proposition, +and it's got to go on. Why? Young Graham grousing?" + +"No, no--oh, no," hastily asserted Doyle, the soul of honour. "No, not at +all. Only mentioned not getting a parade, and it seemed to me a pity. +There's a lot in the good old established religion." + +"Is there?" said the other thoughtfully. "I'm not so sure to-day. The men +don't like being ordered to pray. They prefer to come voluntarily." + +Doyle got fierce. "Don't like being ordered, don't they? Then what the +deuce are they there for? Good Lord, man! the Army isn't a debating +society or a mothers' meeting. You might as well have voluntary games +at a public school!" + +The A.C.G. smiled. "That's it, old headstrong! No, my boy, the Army isn't +a mothers' meeting--at any rate, Fritz doesn't think so. But times have +changed, and in some ways they're better. I'd sooner have fifty men at a +voluntary service than two hundred on a parade." + +"Well, I wouldn't," exploded Doyle. "I know your voluntary +services--Moody and Sankey hymns on a Sunday night. The men had better +be in a decent bar. But turn 'em out in the morning, clean and decent +on parade, and give 'em the old service, and it'll tighten 'em up and +do 'em good. Voluntary service! You'll have volunteer evangelists +instead of Army chaplains next!" + +Colonel Chichester still smiled, but a little grimly. "We've got them," +he said. "And no doubt there's something in what you say; but times +change, and the Church has got to keep abreast of the times. But, look +here, I must go. What about a luncheon? I've not got much leave." + +"So must I; I've an appointment," said Doyle. "But all right, old friend, +to-morrow at the club. But you're younger than I, Chichester, or perhaps +you parsons don't get old as quickly!" + +They shook hands and parted. Sir Robert was busy for an hour, and came +out again with his head full of the proposed plans for the aerial defence +of London. "Taxi, sir?" he was asked at the door. "No," he replied; "I'll +walk home." + +"Best way to think, walking at night," he said to himself as he turned +down Whitehall, through the all but empty streets, darkened as they were. +The meaning of those great familiar spaces struck him as he walked. +Hardly formulating it, he became aware of a sense of pride and +responsibility as he passed scene after scene of England's past glory. +The old Abbey towered up in the moonlight, solemn and still, but almost +as if animate and looking at him. He felt small and old as he passed into +Victoria Street. There the Stores by night made him smile at the +contrast, but in Ashley Gardens Westminster Cathedral made him frown. If +he hated anything, it was that for which it stood. Romanism meant to him +something effeminate, sneaking, monstrous.... That there should be +Englishmen to build such a place positively angered him. He was not +exactly a bigot or a fanatic; he would not have repealed the Emancipation +Acts; and he would have said that if anyone wanted to be a Romanist, +he had better be one. But he would not have had time for anyone who did +so want, and if he should have had to have by any chance dealings with a +priest, he would have been so frigidly polite that the poor fellow would +probably have been frozen solid. Of course, Irishmen were different, +and he had known some capital fellows, Irish priests and chaplains.... + +And then he saw two men ahead of him. They were privates on leave and +drunk, but not hopelessly drunk. They were trying to negotiate the blank +of the entrance to the Catholic Soldiers' Hut in the protecting wall +which guarded the pavement just beyond the cathedral. As Sir Robert came +within earshot, one of them stumbled through it and collapsed profanely. +He halted for a second irresolutely, with the officer's hesitancy at +meddling with a drunken man. + +The fellow on the ground tried to raise himself, and got one elbow on the +gravel. This brought him into such a position that he stared straight at +the illuminated crucifix across the path, and but little farther in. + +"Lor', blimey, Joe," he said, "I'm blasted drunk, I am! Thought I was in +old Wipers, I did, and see one of them blessed cru-crushifixes!" + +The other, rather less away, pulled at his arm. "So yer did, ole pal," he +said. "It's there now. This 'ere's some Cartholic place or other. Come +_hon_." + +"Strike me dead, so it is, Joe, large as life! Christ! oo'd 'ave thought +it? A bloody cru-cru-chifix! Wat's old England comin' to, Joe?" And with +drunken solemnity he began to make a sign of the cross, as he had seen it +done in Belgium. + +The other, in the half-light, plainly started. "Shut your bloody jaw, +'Enery," he said, "It's bad luck to swear near a cruchifix. I saw three +chaps blotted out clean next second for it, back behind Lar Basay. Come +on, will yer? We carn't stay 'ere all the blasted night." + +"You are down on a chap, you are," said the other. "_Hi_ don't mean no +'arm. '_E_ ought to know that, any'ow." He got unsteadily to his feet. +"'E died to save us, 'E did. I 'eard a Y.M.C.A. bloke say them very +words, 'E died on the cru-cru-chifix to save us." + +"'Ere, cheese it, you fool! We'll have somebody out next. Come away with +yer. I've got some Bass in my place, if we git there." + +At this the other consented to come. Together they staggered out, not +seeing Sir Robert, and went off down the street, "'Enery" talking as they +went. The General stood and listened as the man's voice died down. + +"Good for yer, old pal. But 'E died to save us _hall_, 'E did. Made a +bloomer of it, I reckon. Didn't save us from the bloody trenches--not as +I can see, any'ow. If that chap could 'ave told us 'ow to get saved from +the blasted rats an' bugs an'...." + +Sir Robert pulled himself together and walked away sharply. By the +cathedral the carven Christ hung on in the wan yellow light, very still. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Peter lay on a home-made bed between the blankets and contemplated the +ceiling while he smoked his first cigarette. He had been a fortnight at +Rouen, and he was beginning to feel an old soldier--that is to say, he +was learning not to worry too much about outside things, and not to show +he worried particularly about the interior. He was learning to stand +around and smoke endless cigarettes; to stroll in to breakfast and out +again, look over a paper, sniff the air, write a letter, read another +paper, wander round the camp, talk a lot of rubbish and listen to more, +and so do a morning's work. Occasionally he took a service, but his real +job was, as mess secretary, to despatch the man to town for the shopping +and afterwards go and settle the bills. Just at present he was wondering +sleepily whether to continue ordering fish from the big merchants, Biais +Frères et Cie, or to go down to the market and choose it for himself. It +was a very knotty problem, because solving it in the latter way meant +getting up at once. And his batman had not yet brought his tea. + +There came a knock at the door, and the tea came in. With it was a folded +note. "Came last night, sir, but you was out," said the man. He collected +his master's tunic and boots, and departed. + +Peter opened the note and swore definitely and unclerically when he had +read it. It was from some unknown person, who signed himself as Acting +Assistant Chaplain-General, to the effect that he was to be moved to +another base, and that as the A.C.G. was temporarily on leave, he had +better apply to the Colonel of his own group for the necessary movement +order. On the whole this was unintelligible to Peter, but he was already +learning that there was no need to worry about that, for somebody would +be able to read the riddle. What annoyed him was the fact that he had got +to move just as he was settling down. It was certainly a matter for +another cigarette, and as he lit it he perceived one gleam of sunshine: +he need worry no more about the fish. + +Peter waited till Harold had finished his breakfast before he imparted +the news to the world a couple of hours or so later. "I say, skipper," he +said, "I've got to quit." + +"What, padre? Oh, hang it all, no, man! You've only just taken on the +mess secretary's job, and you aren't doing it any too badly either. You +can't go, old dear." + +"I must. Some blighter's written from the A.C.G.'s office, and I've got +to get a movement order from the Colonel of the group, whatever that +means. But I suppose you can put me straight about that, anyway." + +"Sure thing. Come up to the orderly-room 'bout eleven, and you can fill +up the chit and I'll fire it in for you. It's only a matter of form. It +goes through to Colonel Lear at La Croisset. Where to?" + +Peter told him moodily. + +"Eh?" said Harold. "Well, you can cheer up about that. Havre's not at all +a bad place. There are some decent shows about there and some very decent +people. What you got to do?" + +"I don't know; I suppose I shall find out when I get there. But I don't +care what it's like. It's vile having to leave just now, when I'm getting +straight. And what'll you do for a four at bridge?" + +Harold got up and fumbled in his pockets. As usual, there was nothing +there. "Why that damned batman of mine won't put my case in my pocket I +can't think," he said. "I'll have to fire the blighter, though he is T.T. +and used to be a P. and O. steward. Give me a fag, somebody. Thanks. +Well, padre, it's no use grousing. It's a beastly old war, and you're in +the blinkin' British Army, me lad. Drop in at eleven, then. Cheerio till +then." + +At eleven Peter found Harold signing papers. He glanced up. "Oh, +sergeant," he said, "give Captain Graham a Movement Order Application +Form, will you? Sit down, padre; there's a pen there." + +Peter wrestled with the form, which looked quite pretty when it was done. +Harold endorsed it. "Fire this through to the orderly-room, 10th Group, +sergeant," he said, and rose wearily. "Come along, padre," he said: "I've +got to go round the camp, and you can come too, if you've nothing better +to do." + +"When'll I have to go, do you think?" asked Peter as they went out. + +"Oh, I don't know. In a day or two. You'll have to hang about, for the +order may come any time, and I don't know how or when they'll send you." + +Peter did hang about, for ten days, with his kit packed. His recently +acquired calm forsook him about the sixth day, and on the tenth he was +entirely mutinous. At lunch he voiced his grievances to the general mess. + +"Look here, you men," he said, "I'm fed up to the back teeth. I've hung +round this blessed camp for more than a week waiting for that infernal +movement order, and I'm hanged if I'm going to stay in any more. It's a +topping afternoon. Who'll come down the river to La Bouille, or whatever +it is called?" + +Harold volunteered. "That's a good line, padre. I want to go there +myself. Are the boats running now?" + +"Saw 'em yesterday," volunteered somebody, and it was settled. + +The two of them spent a decent afternoon on the river, and at Harold's +insistence went on back right up to town. They dined and went to a +cinema, and got back to camp about midnight. Graham struck a match and +looked at the board in the anteroom. "May as well see if there is +anything for me," he said. There was, of course. He tore the envelope +open. "Good Lord, skipper!" he said. "Here's my blessed movement order, +to report at the Gare du Vert at eight p.m. this very day. I'm only four +hours too late. What the dickens shall I do?" + +Harold whistled. "Show it me," he said. "'The following personnel to +report at Gare du Vert ... at 8 p.m. 28th inst'" he read. "You're for it, +old bird," he continued cheerfully. "But what rot! Look here, it was +handed in to my orderly-room at six-thirty. You'd have hardly had time to +get there at any rate." + +Graham looked over his shoulder. "That's so," he said. "But what'll I do +now?" + +"Haven't a notion," said the other, "except that they'll let you know +quick enough. Don't worry--that's the main thing. If they choke you off, +tell 'em it came too late to get to the station." + +Peter meditated this in silence, and in some dismay. He saw visions of +courts-martial, furious strafing, and unholy terrors. He was to be +forgiven, for he was new to comic opera; and besides, when a page of +_Punch_ falls to one in real life, one hardly realises it till too late. +But it was plain that nothing could be done that night, and he went to +bed with what consolation he could derive from the cheerful Harold. + +Next morning his breakfast was hardly over when an orderly came in. +Harold had been earlier than usual, and had finished and gone out. +"Captain Graham, sir?" queried the man. "Captain Harold's compliments, +and a telephone message has just come in that you are to report to H.Q. +10th Group as quickly as possible." + +Peter brushed himself up, and outwardly cheerful but inwardly quaking, +set off. Half an hour's walk brought him to the place, a little office +near a wharf in a tangle of trolley lines. He knocked, went in, came to +attention, and saluted. + +Colonel Lear was a short, red-faced, boorish fellow, and his Adjutant sat +beside him at the desk, for the Colonel was not particularly well up in +his job. The Adjutant was tall, slightly bald, and fat-faced, and he +leaned back throughout the interview with an air of sneering boredom, +only vouchsafing laconic replies to his superior's occasional questions. +Peter didn't know which he hated the more; but he concluded that whereas +he would like to cut the Colonel in Regent Street, he would enjoy +shooting the Adjutant. + +"Ah!" said the Colonel. "Are you Captain Graham? Well, sir, what's the +meaning of this? You applied for a movement order, and one was sent you, +and you did not report at the station. You damned padres think you can do +any bally thing you choose! Out here for a picnic, I suppose. What is the +meaning of it?" + +"Well, sir," said Peter, "I waited ten days for the order and it did not +come. At last I went out for the afternoon, and got back too late to +execute it. I'm very sorry, but can't I go to-day instead?" + +"Good God, sir! do you think the whole British Army is arranged for your +benefit? Do you think nobody has anything else to do except to arrange +things to suit your convenience? We haven't got troopers with Pullman +cars every day for the advantage of you chaplains, though I suppose you +think we ought to have. Supposing you did have to wait, what about it? +What else have you to do? You'd have waited fast enough if it was an +order to go on leave; that's about all you parsons think about. _I_ don't +know what you can do. What had he better do, Mallony?" + +The Adjutant leaned forward leisurely, surveying Peter coolly. + +"Probably he'd better report to the R.T.O., sir," he said. + +"Oh, very well. It won't be any good, though. Go up to the R.T.O. and ask +him what you can do. Here's the order." (He threw it across the table, +and Peter picked it up, noting miserably the blue legend, "Failed to +Report--R.T.O., Gare du Vert.") "But don't apply to this office again. +Haven't you got a blessed department to do your own damned dirty work?" + +"The A.C.G.'s away, sir," said Peter. + +"On leave, I suppose. Wish to God I were a padre, eh, Mallony? Always on +leave or in Paris, and doin' nothing in between.... Got those returns, +sergeant?... What in hell are you waiting for, padre?" + +For the first time in his life Peter had an idea of what seeing red +really means. But he mastered it by an effort, saluted without a word, +and passed out. + +In a confused whirl he set off for the R.T.O., and with a sinking heart +reached the station, crowded with French peasantry, who had apparently +come for the day to wait for the train. Big notices made it impossible to +miss the Railway Transport Officer. He passed down a passage and into an +office. He loathed and hated the whole wide world as he went in. + +A young man, smoking a cigarette and reading a magazine, glanced +up at him. Peter observed in time that he had two stars only on his +shoulder-strap. Before he could speak, the other said cheerily: "Well, +padre, and what can I do for you?" + +Peter deprecatingly told him. He had waited ten days, etc., and had at +last gone out, and the movement order had come with... + +The other cut him short: "Oh, you're the chap who failed to report, are +you? Blighted rotters they are at these Group H.Q.'s. Chuck us over the +chit." + +Peter brightened up and obeyed. The other read it. "I know," ventured +Peter, "but I got the dickens of a strafe from the Colonel. He said he +had no idea when I could get away, and had better see you. What can I +do?" + +"Silly old ass! You'd better go to-night. There are plenty of trains, +and you're all alone, aren't you? I might just alter the date, but I +suppose now you had better go to his nibs the Deputy Assistant Officer +controlling Transport. He's in the Rue de la Republique, No. 153; you can +find it easily enough. Tell him I sent you. He'll probably make you out +a new order." + +Peter felt enormously relieved. He relaxed, smiled, and got out a +cigarette, offering the other one. "Beastly lot of fuss they make +over nothing, these chaps," he said. + +"I know," said the R.T.O.; "but they're paid for it, my boy, and probably +your old dear had been strafed himself this morning. Well, cheerio; see +you again to-night. Come in time, and I'll get you a decent place." + +The great man's office was up two flights of wooden stairs in what looked +like a deserted house. But Peter mounted them with an easy mind. He had +forgiven Lear, and the world smiled. He still didn't realise he was +acting in _Punch_. + +Outside a suitably labelled door he stood a moment, listening to a +well-bred voice drawling out sarcastic orders to some unfortunate. Then, +with a smile he entered. A Major looked up at him, and heard his story +without a word. Peter got less buoyant as he proceeded, and towards the +end he was rather lame. A silence followed. The great man scrutinised +the order. "Where were you?" he demanded at last, abruptly. + +It was an awkward question. Peter hedged. "The O.C. of my camp asked me +to go out with him," he said at last, feebly. + +The other picked up a blue pencil and scrawled further on the order. +"We've had too much of this lately," he said icily. "Officers appear to +think they can travel when and how they please. You will report to the +D.A.Q.M.G. at Headquarters, 3rd Echelon." He handed the folded order +back, and the miserable Peter had a notion that he meant to add: "And +God have mercy on your soul." + +He ventured a futile remonstrance. "The R.T.O. said you could perhaps +alter the date." + +The Major leaned back and regarded him in silence as a remarkable +phenomenon such as had not previously come his way. Then he sighed, +and picked up a pen. "Good-morning," he said. + +Peter, in the street, contemplated many things, including suicide. If +Colonel Chichester had been in Rouen he would have gone there; as it was, +he did not dare to face that unknown any more than this other. In the end +he set out slowly for H.Q., was saluted by the sentry under the flag, +climbed up to a corridor with many strangely labelled doors, and finally +entered the right one, to find himself in a big room in which half a +dozen men in uniform were engaged at as many desks with orderlies moving +between them. A kind of counter barred his farther passage. He stood at +it forlornly for a few minutes. + +At last an orderly came to him, and he shortly explained his presence and +handed in the much-blued order. The man listened in silence, asked him to +wait a moment, and departed. Peter leaned on the counter and tried to +look indifferent. With a detached air he studied the Kirschner girls on +the walls. These added a certain air to the otherwise forlorn place, but +when, a little later, W.A.A.C.'s were installed, a paternal Government +ordered their removal. But that then mattered no longer to Peter. + +At the last the orderly came back. "Will you please follow me, sir?" he +said. + +Peter was led round the barrier like a sheep to execution, and in +at a small door. He espied a General Officer at a desk by the window, +telephone receiver in one hand, the fateful order in the other. He +saluted. The other nodded. Peter waited. + +"Ah, yes! D.A.Q.M.G. speaking. That 10th Group Headquarters? Oh yes; +good-morning, Mallony. About Captain Graham's movement order. When was +this order applied for at your end?... What? Eighteenth? Humph! What time +did your office receive it?... Eh? Ten a.m.? Then, sir, I should like to +know what it was doing in your office till six p.m. This officer did not +receive it till six-thirty. What? He was out? Yes, very likely, but it +reached his mess at six-thirty: it is so endorsed.... Colonel Lear has +had the matter under consideration? Good. Kindly ask Colonel Lear to come +to the telephone." + +He leaned back, and glanced up at Graham, taking him in with a grave +smile. "I understand you waited ten days for this, Captain Graham," he +said. "It's disgraceful that it should happen. I am glad to have had an +instance brought before me, as we have had too many cases of this sort of +thing lately...." He broke off. "Yes? Colonel Lear? Ah, good-morning, +Colonel Lear. This case of the movement order of Captain Graham has just +been brought to me. This officer was kept waiting ten days for his order, +and then given an impossibly short time to report. Well, it won't do, +Colonel. There must be something very wrong in your orderly-room; kindly +see to it. Chaplains have other things to do than sit around in camps +waiting the convenience of Group Headquarters. The application for this +order reached us on the 27th, and was sent off early next morning, in +ample time for the officer to travel. I am very displeased about it. You +will kindly apply at once for a fresh order, and see that it is in +Captain Graham's hands at least six hours before he must report. That +is all. Good-morning." + +Peter could hardly believe his ears, but he could barely keep a straight +face either. The D.A.Q.M.G. hung up the receiver and repeated the latter +part of the message. Peter thanked him and departed, walking on air. A +day later an orderly from the group informed him at 11 a.m. that the +order had been applied for and might be expected that day, and at 1 +o'clock he received it. Such is the humour of the high gods who control +the British Army. But he never saw Colonel Lear again, and was thankful. + +Peter reached his new base, then, early in March in a drizzle of rain. He +was told his camp and set off to find it, and for an hour walked through +endless docks, over innumerable bridges, several of which, being open to +admit and let out ships, caused him pretty considerable delay. It was a +strange, new experience. The docks presented types of nearly every +conceivable nationality and of every sort of shipping. French marines and +seamen were, of course everywhere, but so were Chinese, South African +natives, Egyptians, Senegalese, types of all European nationalities, +a few of the first clean, efficient-looking Americans in tight-fitting +uniforms, and individual officers of a score of regiments. + +The old town ended in a row of high, disreputable-looking houses that +were, however, picturesque enough, and across the _pavé_ in front of them +commenced the docks. One walked in and out of harbours and waterways, the +main stretch of harbour opening up more and more on the right hand, and +finally showing two great encircling arms that nearly met, and the grey +Channel beyond. Tossing at anchor outside were more than a dozen ships, +waiting for dark to attempt the crossing. As he went, a seaplane came +humming in from the mists, circled the old town, and took the harbour +water in a slither of foam. He had to wait while a big Argentine ship +ploughed slowly in up a narrow channel, and then, in the late afternoon, +crossed a narrow swing foot-bridge, and found himself on the main outer +sea-wall. + +Following directions, he turned to the right and walked as if going out +to the harbour mouth a mile or so ahead. It seemed impossible that his +camp should be here, for on the one hand he was close to the harbour, and +on the other, over a high wall and some buildings, was plainly to be +espied the sea. A few hundred yards on, however, a crowd of Tommies were +lined up and passing embarkation officers for a big trooper, and Peter +concluded that this was the leave boat by which he was to mark his camp +across the road and more or less beyond it. + +He crossed a railway-line, went in at a gate, and was there. + +The officers' quarters had a certain fascination. You stepped out of +the anteroom and found yourself on a raised concrete platform at the +back of which washed the sea. Very extensive harbour works, half +completed, ran farther out in a great semicircle across a wide space of +leaden water, over which gulls were circling and crying; but the thin +black line of this wall hardly interrupted one's sense of looking +straight out to sea, and its wide mouth away on the right let in the +real invigorating, sea-smelling wind. The camp itself was a mere strip +between the railway-line and the water, a camp of R.E.'s to which he was +attached. He was also to work a hospital which was said to be close by. + +It was pointed out to him later. The railway ran out all but to the +harbour mouth, and there ended in a great covered, wide station. Above +it, large and airy, with extensive verandahs parallel to the harbour, +was the old Customs, and it was this that had been transformed into a +hospital. It was an admirable place. The Red Cross trains ran in below, +and the men could be quickly swung up into the cool, clean wards above. +These, all on one level, had great glass doors giving access to the +verandahs, and from the verandahs broad gangways could be placed, running +men, at high tide, on to the hospital ship alongside. The nurses' +quarters were beyond, and their sitting-room was perched up, as it +were, sea on one side and harbour on the other. + +At present, of course, Peter did not know all this. He was merely +conducted by an orderly in the dusk to the anteroom of the mess, and +welcomed by the orderly-officer, who led him into a comfortable room +already lit, in a corner of which, near a stove, four officers sat at +cards. + +"Hearts three," said one as Peter came in. + +"Pass me," said another, and it struck Peter that he knew the tone. + +The four were fairly absorbed in their game, but the orderly officer led +Peter towards the table. At that they looked up, and next minute one had +jumped up and was greeting him. + +"By all that's wonderful! It's you again," he said. + +"Donovan!" exclaimed Peter, "What: are you doing here?" + +The South African held out his hand. "I've got attached to one of our +nigger outfits," he said, "just up the dock from here. But what are you +doing?" + +"Oh, I've been moved from Rouen," said Peter, "and told to join up here. +Got to look after the hospital and a few camps. And I was told," he +added, "I'd live in this camp." + +"Good enough," said Donovan. "Let me introduce you. This is Lieutenant +Pennell, R.E.--Lieutenant Pennell, Captain Graham. This is a bird of your +kidney, mess secretary and a great man, Padre Arnold, and this is one +Ferrars, Australian Infantry. He tried to stop a shell," went on Donovan +easily, "and is now recovering. The shock left him a little insane, or so +his best friends think; hence, as you may have heard, he has just gone +three hearts. And that's all anyone can do at present, padre, so have a +cigarette and sit down. I hope you haven't changed your old habits, as +you are just in time for a sun-downer. Orderly!" + +He pulled up a large easy-chair, and Peter subsided into it with a +pleasant feeling of welcome. He remembered, now, having heard that +Donovan was at Havre, but it was none the less a surprise to meet him. + +Donovan played a good hand when he liked, but when he was not meeting +his mettle, or perhaps when the conditions were not serious enough, he +usually kept up a diverting, unorthodox run of talk the whole time. Peter +listened and took in his surroundings lazily. "Come on," said his friend, +playing a queen. "Shove on your king, Pennell; everyone knows you've got +him. What? Hiding the old gentleman, are you? Why, sure it's myself has +him all the time"--gathering up the trick and leading the king. "Perhaps +somebody's holding up the ace now...." and so on. + +Pennell played well too, but very differently. He was usually bored with +his luck or the circumstances, and until you got to know him you were +inclined to think he was bored with you. He was a young-looking man of +thirty-five, rather good-looking, an engineer in peace-time who had +knocked about the world a good deal, but hardly gave you that impression. +The Australian played poorly. With curly dark hair and a perpetual pipe, +his face was almost sullen in repose, but it lit up eagerly enough at +any chance excitement. Arnold was easily the eldest, a short man with +iron-grey hair and very kindly eyes, a man master of himself and his +circumstances. Peter watched him eagerly. He was likely to see a good +deal of him, he thought, and he was glad there would be a padre as well +in camp. + +Donovan and Ferrars won the game and so the rubber easily, and the former +pushed his chair back from the table. "That's enough for me, boys," he +said. "I must trek in a minute. Well, padre, and what do you think of the +Army now?" + +"Mixed biscuits rather," Peter said. "But I had a rum experience getting +here. You wouldn't have thought it possible," and he related the story +of the movement order. At the close, Pennell nodded gloomily. "Pack of +fools they are!" he said. "Hardly one of them knows his job. You can +thank your lucky stars that the D.A.Q.M.G. had a down on that Colonel +What's-his-name, or it would have taken you another month to get here, +probably--eh, Donovan?" + +"That's so, old dear," said that worthy, "But I'm hanged if I'd have +cared. Some place, Rouen. Better'n this hole." + +"Well, at Rouen they said this was better," said Peter. + +Arnold laughed. "That's the way of the Army," he said. "It's all much the +same, but you would have to go far to beat this camp." + +Pennell agreed. "You're right there, padre," he said. "This is as neat a +hole as I've struck. If you know the road," he went on to Peter, "you can +slip into town in twenty-five minutes or so, and we're much better placed +than most camps. There's no mud and cinders here, is there, Donovan? His +camp's built on cinders," he added. + +"There are not," said that worthy, rising. "And you're very convenient to +the hospital here, padre. You better get Arnold to show you round; he's a +dog with the nurses." + +"What about the acting matron, No. 1 Base?" demanded Arnold. "He has tea +there every Sunday," he explained to Peter, "and he a married man, too." + +"It's time I went," said Donovan, laughing; "all the same, there's a +concert on Tuesday in next week, a good one, I believe, and I've promised +to go and take some people. Who'll come? Pennell, will you?" + +"Not this child, thanks. Too many nurses, too much tea, and too much talk +for me. Now, if you would pick me out a pretty one and fix up a little +dinner in town, I'm your man, old bean." + +"Well, that might be managed. It's time we had a flutter of some sort. +I'll see. What about you, Graham? You game to try the hospital? You'll +have to get to know the ropes of them all, you know." + +"Yes, I'll come," said Peter--"if I can, that is." He looked inquiringly +at Arnold. + +"Oh, your time is more or less your own," he replied--"at least, it is +our side of the house. Are you C.G. or P.C.?" + +"Good God, padre!" said the Australian, getting up too, "what in the +world do you mean?" + +"Chaplain-General's Department or Principal Chaplain's Department, Church +of England or Nonconformist. And it's sixpence a swear in this mess." +Arnold held out a hand. + +Donovan caught his friend by the arm. "Come on out of it," he said. "You +won't get back in time if you don't. The padre's a good sort; you needn't +mind him. So long everybody. Keep Tuesday clear, Graham. I'll call for +you." + +"Well, I'd better fix you up, Graham," said Arnold. "For my sins I'm mess +secretary, and as the president's out and likely to be, I'll find a place +for you." + +He led Peter into the passage, and consulted a board on the wall. "I'd +like to put you next me, but I can't," he said. "Both sides occupied. +Wait a minute. No. 10 Pennell, and No. 11's free. How would you like +that? Pennell," he called through the open door, "what's the next room to +yours like? Light all right?" + +"Quite decent," said Pennell, coming to the door. "Going to put him +there, padre? Let's go and see." Then the three went off together down +the passage. + +The little room was bare, except for a table under the window, Arnold +opened it, and Peter saw he looked out over the sea. Pennell switched on +the light and found it working correctly, and then sauntered across the +couple of yards or so of the cubicle's width to look at the remains of +some coloured pictures pasted on the wooden partition. + +"Last man's made a little collection from _La Vie Parisienne_ for you, +padre," he said, "Not a very bright selection, either. You'll have to +cover them up, or it'll never do to bring your A.C.G. or A.P.C., or +whatever he is, in here. What a life!" he added, regarding them. "They +are a queer people, the French.... Well, is this going to do?" + +Graham glanced at Arnold, "Very well," he said, "if it's all right for me +to have it." + +"Quite all right," said Arnold. "Remember, Pennell is next door left, so +keep him in order. Next door right is the English Channel, more or less. +Now, what about your traps?" + +"I left them outside the orderly-room," said Peter, "except for some +that a porter was to bring up. Perhaps they'll be here by now. I've got +a stretcher and so on." + +"I'll go and see," said Pennell, "and I'll put my man on to get you +straight, as you haven't a batman yet." And he strolled off. + +"Come to my room a minute," said Arnold, and Peter followed him. + +Arnold's room was littered with stuff. The table was spread with mess +accounts, and the corners of the little place were stacked up with a +gramophone, hymn-books, lantern-slides, footballs, boxing-gloves, and +such-like. The chairs were both littered, but Arnold cleared one by the +simple expedient of piling all its contents on the other, and motioned +his visitor to sit down. "Have a pipe?" he asked, holding out his pouch. + +Peter thanked him, filled and handed it back, then lit his pipe, and +glanced curiously round the room as he drew on it. "You're pretty full +up," he said. + +"Fairly," said the other. "There's a Y.M.C.A. here, and I run it more or +less, and Tommy likes variety. He's a fine chap, Tommy; don't you think +so?" + +Peter hesitated a second, and the other glanced at him shrewdly. + +"Perhaps you haven't been out long enough," he said. + +"Perhaps not," said Peter. "Not but what I do like him. He's a cheerful +creature for all his grousing, and has sterling good stuff in him. But +religiously I don't get on far. To tell you the truth, I'm awfully +worried about it." + +The elder man nodded. "I guess I know, lad," he said. "See here. I'm +Presbyterian and I reckon you are Anglican, but I expect we're up against +much the same sort of thing. Don't worry too much. Do your job and talk +straight, and the men'll listen more than you think." + +"But I don't think I know what to tell them," said Peter miserably, but +drawn out by the other. + +Arnold smiled. "The Prayer Book's not much use here, eh? But forgive me; +I don't mean to be rude. I know what you mean. To tell you the truth, I +think this war is what we padres have been needing. It'll help us to find +our feet. Only--this is honest--if you don't take care you may lose them. +I have to keep a tight hold of that"--and he laid his hand on a big +Bible--"to mind my own." + +Peter did not reply for a minute. He could not talk easily to a stranger. +But at last he said: "Yes; but it doesn't seem to me to fit the case. Men +are different. Times are different. The New Testament people took certain +things for granted, and even if they disagreed, they always had a common +basis with the Apostles. Men out here seem to me to talk a different +language: you don't know where to begin. It seems to me that they have +long ago ceased to believe in the authority of anyone or anything in +religion, and now to-day they actually deny our very commonplaces. But +I don't know how to put it," he added lamely. + +Arnold puffed silently for a little. Then he took his pipe out of his +mouth and regarded it critically. "God's in the soul of every man still," +he said. "They can still hear Him speak, and speak there. And so must we +too, Graham." + +Peter said nothing. In a minute or so steps sounded in the passage, and +Arnold looked up quickly. "Maybe," he said, "our ordinary life prevented +us hearing God very plainly ourselves, Graham, and maybe He has sent us +here for that purpose. I hope so. I've wondered lately if we haven't come +to the kingdom for such a time as this." + +Pennell pushed the door open, and looked in. "You there, Graham?" he +asked. "Oh, I thought I'd find him here, padre; his stuff's come." + +Peter got up. "Excuse me, Arnold," he said; "I must shake in. But I'm +jolly glad you said what you did, and I hope you'll say it again, and +some more." + +The older man smiled an answer, and the door closed. Then he sighed a +little, and stretched out his hand again for the Bible. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The great central ward at No. 1 Base Hospital looked as gay as possible. +In the centre a Guard's band sat among palms and ferns, and an +extemporised stage, draped with flags, was behind, with wings constructed +of Japanese-figured material. Pretty well all round were the beds, +although many of them had been moved up into a central position, and +there was a space for chairs and forms. The green-room had to be outside +the ward, and the performers, therefore, came and went in the public +gaze. But it was not a critical public, and the men, with a plenitude +of cigarettes, did not object to pauses. On the whole, they were +extraordinarily quiet and passive. Modern science has made the +battlefield a hell, but it has also made the base hospital something +approaching a Paradise. + +There were women in plenty. The staff had been augmented by visitors from +most of the other hospitals in the town, and there was a fair sprinkling +of W.A.A.C.'s, Y.M.C.A. workers, and so on, in addition. Jack Donovan +and Peter were a little late, and arrived at the time an exceedingly +popular subaltern was holding the stage amid roars of laughter. They +stood outside one of the many glass doors and peered in. + +Once inside, one had to make one's way among beds and chairs, and the +nature of things brought one into rather more than the usual share of +late-comers' scrutiny, but nothing could abash Donovan. He spotted at +once a handsome woman in nurse's indoor staff uniform, and made for her. +She, with two others, was sitting on an empty bed, and she promptly made +room for Donovan. Graham was introduced, and a quiet girl moved up a bit +for him to sit down; but there was not much room, and the girl would not +talk, so that he sat uncomfortably and looked about him, listening with +one ear to the fire of chaff on his right. Donovan was irrepressible. His +laugh and voice, and the fact that he was talking to a hospital +personage, attracted a certain amount of attention. Peter tried to smile, +but he felt out of it and observed. He stared up towards the band, which +was just striking up again. + +Suddenly he became conscious, as one will, that someone was particularly +looking at him. He glanced back over the chairs, and met a pair of eyes, +roguish, laughing, and unquestionably fixed upon him. The moment he saw +them, their owner nodded and telegraphed an obvious invitation. Peter +glanced at Donovan: he had not apparently seen. He looked back; the eyes +called him again. He felt himself getting hot, for, despite the fact that +he had a kind of feeling that he had seen those eyes before, he was +perfectly certain he did not know the girl. Perhaps she had made a +mistake. He turned resolutely to his companion. + +"Jolly good band, isn't it?" he said. + +"Yes," she replied. + +"But I suppose at a hospital like this you're always hearing decent +music?" he ventured. + +"Not so often," she said. + +"This band is just back from touring the front, isn't it? My friend said +something to that effect." + +"I believe so," she said. + +Peter could have cursed her. It was impossible to get anything out of +her, though why he had not a notion. The answer was really simple, for +she wanted to be next Donovan, and wasn't, and she was all the while +scheming how to get there. But Peter did not tumble to that; he felt an +ass and very uncomfortable, and he broke into open revolt. + +He looked steadily towards the chairs. The back of the girl who had +looked at him was towards him now, for she was talking sideways to +somebody; but he noted an empty chair just next her, and that her uniform +was not that of the nurses of this hospital. He felt confident that she +would look again, and he was not disappointed. Instantly he made up his +mind, nodded, and reached for his cap. "I see a girl I know over there," +he said to his neighbour. "Excuse me, will you?" Then he got up and +walked boldly over to the vacant chair. He was fast acclimatising to war +conditions. + +He sat down on that empty chair and met the girl's eyes fairly. She was +entirely at her ease and laughing merrily. "I've lost my bet," she said, +"and Tommy's won." + +"And you've made me tell a thundering lie," he replied, laughing too, +"which you know is the first step towards losing one's soul. Therefore +you deserve your share in the loss." + +"Why? What did you say?" she demanded. + +"I said I saw a girl I knew," he replied. "But I haven't any idea who you +are, though I can't help feeling I've seen you before." + +She chuckled with amusement, and turned to her companion. "He doesn't +remember, Tommy," she said. + +The second girl looked past her to Peter. "I should think not," she said. +"Nobody would. But he'll probably say in two minutes that he does. You're +perfectly shameless, Julie." + +Julie swung round to Peter. "You're a beast, Tommy," she said over her +shoulder, "and I shan't speak to you again. You see," she went on to +Peter, "I could see you had struck a footling girl, and as I don't know a +single decent boy here, I thought I'd presume on an acquaintance, and see +if it wasn't a lucky one. We've got to know each other, you know. The +girl with me on the boat--oh, damn, I've told you!--and I am swearing, +and you're a parson, but it can't be helped now--well, the girl told me +we should meet again, and that it was probably you who was mixed up with +my fate-line. What do you think of that?" + +Peter had not an idea, really. He was going through the most amazing set +of sensations. He felt heavy and dull, and as if he were utterly at a +loss how to deal with a female of so obviously and totally different a +kind from any he had met before; but, with it all, he was very conscious +of being glad to be there. Underneath everything, too, he felt a bit of a +dare-devil, which was a delightful experience for a London curate; and +still deeper, much more mysteriously and almost a little terrifyingly, +something stranger still, that he had known this girl for ages, although +he had not seen her for a long time. "I'm highly privileged, I'm sure," +he said, and could have kicked himself for a stupid ass. + +"Oh Lord!" said Julie, with a mock expression of horror; "for goodness' +sake don't talk like that. That's the worst of a parson: he can't forget +the drawing-room. At any rate, I'm not sure that _I'm_ highly fortunate, +but I thought I ought to give Fate a chance. Do you smoke?" + +"Yes," said Peter wonderingly. + +"Then for goodness' sake smoke, and you'll feel better. No, I daren't +here, but I'm glad you are educated enough to ask me. Nurses aren't +supposed to smoke in public, you know, and I take it that even you have +observed that I'm a nurse." + +She was quite right. Peter drew on his cigarette and felt more at +ease. "Well, to be absolutely honest, I had," he said. "And I observe, +moreover, that you are not wearing exactly an English nurse's uniform, +and that you have what I might venture to call a zoological badge. I +therefore conclude that, like my friend Donovan, you hail from South +Africa. What hospital are you in?" + +"Quai de France," she said. "Know it?" + +Peter repressed a start. "Quai de France?" he queried. "Where's that, +now?" + +At this moment a song started, but his companion dropped her voice to +stage whisper and replied: "End of the harbour, near where the leave-boat +starts. Know it now?" + +He nodded, but was saved a reply. + +She looked away toward the platform, and he studied her face +surreptitiously. It seemed very young till you looked closely, especially +at the eyes, and then you perceived something lurking there. She was +twenty-seven or twenty-eight, he concluded. She looked as if she knew the +world inside out, and as if there were something hidden below the gaiety. +Peter felt curiously and intensely attracted. His shyness vanished. He +had, and had had, no intimations of the doings of Providence, and nobody +could possibly be more sceptical of fate-lines than he, but it dawned on +him as he stared at her that he would fathom that look somehow, +somewhere. + +"I'm practically not made up at all," she whispered, without turning her +head, "so for Heaven's sake don't say there's too much powder on my +nose." + +Peter shook silently. "No, but a faint trace on the right cheek," he +whispered back. She turned then and looked at him, and her eyes +challenged his. And yet it is to be supposed that Hilda knew nothing +whatever about it. + +"'_Right on my mother's knee_....'" sang the platform. + +"'_Without a shirt, without a shirt_,'" gagged Peter, _sotto voce_, and +marvelled at himself. But he felt that her smothered laughter amply +rewarded him. + +The song ceased in time, and the encore, which they both rigorously +demanded. And immediately she began again. + +"I hope to goodness tea isn't far off," she said. "By the way, you'll +have to take me to it, now, you know. We go out of that door, and up a +flight of steps, and there's the matron's room on the top and a visitor's +room next to it, and tea'll be there. It will be a fiendish squash, and I +wouldn't go if I hadn't you to get me tea and take me away afterwards as +soon as possible." + +"I'm highly privileged, I'm sure," said Peter again, quite deliberately. +She laughed. "You are," she said. "Look how you're coming on! Ten minutes +ago you were a bored curate, and now you're--what are you?" + +Peter hesitated perceptibly. He felt he might say many things. Then he +said "A trapped padre," and they both laughed. + +"Thank goodness you're not sentimental, anyway," she said. "Nor's your +friend; but the matron is. I know her sort. Look at them." + +Peter looked. Donovan appeared still entirely at his ease, but he was +watching Peter, who realised why he had been made to look. He brazened +it out, smiled back at him, and turned perfectly deliberately to his +companion. + +"Julie," he said, "don't look over there any more, for goodness' sake, or +we'll have Donovan here. And if he comes he'll sail in and take you to +tea without a word. I know him. He's got an unfair advantage over me. I'm +just waking up, and he's been awake for years. Please give me a chance." + +She leaned, back and regarded him humorously. "You're not doing so +badly," she said, "I don't know that a man has ever called me 'Julie' +before in the first quarter of an hour. Do you know that, Solomon?" + +"It's your fault, I've never been introduced, and I must call you +something, so why not the name your friend called you? Julie's very +pretty and suits you. Somehow I couldn't call you 'Miss' anything, though +it may be convenient to know the rest. Do you think you could call me the +Rev. Peter Graham?" + +"I couldn't," she confessed, slightly more solemnly. "Queer, isn't it? +But don't, talk about it: it isn't lucky. I shall call you Solomon for +ever now. And you can only call me Miss Gamelyn when you've got to. See?" + +"But why in the world 'Solomon'? It doesn't fit me a bit." + +"Oh," she said, "it does, but don't worry why. Perhaps because, as the +old man said to the vicar when he heard of Solomon's wives, you are a +highly privileged Christian. You can't deny that, since you've said it +twice. Praises be, here is tea. Come on; come on, Tommy. Oh, Tommy, this +is the Very Reverend Peter Graham. Mr. Graham, this is one Raynard, +commonly known as Tommy, my half-section, so try to be polite." + +There was a general movement, and Peter shook hands as he got up. The +other girl struck him at once as a good sort. + +"You're booked to take us to tea, I suppose?" she said. "Julie's far more +practical than you'd imagine, padre." + +They left the row of chairs together, Julie well in front and apparently +forgetful of their existence. As they came abreast of the empty bed, +Peter noticed that the assistant matron had gone, and that Donovan was +drifting in the stream alongside her in front. But before they were out +of the great ward, Julie and he were laughing together. Peter felt +absurdly hurt, and hated himself for feeling it. The other girl was +talking at his elbow, but he made ridiculous and commonplace replies and +hardly noticed her. She broke off at last abruptly, and he roused himself +to carry on. He caught her expression, and somehow or other it landed him +deeper in the business. He made a deliberate move. + +"Where are you going after this?" he asked. + +"Down town to do some shopping; then I suppose home, unless a fit seizes +Julie and we run a risk once more of being summarily repatriated." + +He laughed. "Does that often happen?" + +"Quite often. You see ours is an English hospital, though we are South +Africans attached to it. I think they're much more strict than Colonial +hospitals. But they give us more latitude than the rest, at any rate. +Julie had a fearful row once, and simply declared she would do some +things, and since then they turn a blind eye occasionally. But there are +limits, and one day she'll step over them--I know she will." + +"Let's hope not," said Peter; "but now let me get you some tea." + +The little room was packed, but Peter got through somehow and made his +way to a series of tables spread with cakes and sandwiches. He got a cup +and seized a plate, and shouldered his way back. In the crush he saw only +the top of Miss Raynard's head, and made for that. "Here you are," he +said cheerfully, as he emerged. "Have a sandwich?" + +"Thanks," she said as she took it; "but why didn't you bring two cups?" + +"Why?" he asked. + +She nodded towards a corner and there was Julie, wedged in between +people, and refusing tea from a subaltern. "She expects you to bring it," +said Miss Raynard. + +Peter looked puzzled, "Where's Donovan?" he said. "I thought she came in +with him." + +The girl smiled. "She did, but she arranged for you to bring her tea, +whoever Donovan is, and she'll wait for it. She's that sort. Besides, if +Donovan was that officer with the matron, he's probably got other fish to +fry." + +Peter waited for no more, but plunged into the press again. As he +emerged, he crossed the track of his friend, who was steering about with +cakes. "Hullo, padre," that individual said; "you're a smart one, you +are. Let's take those girls out to dinner. They'll come all right." + +Peter mumbled something, and went on with his tea towards the corner. The +other's readiness and effrontery staggered him, but he wasn't going to +give himself away. + +"You're a brute!" said Julie promptly. "Where have you been?" + +"It's where have you been, you mean," retorted Peter. "I thought I was to +take you in to tea. When last I saw you, you had Donovan in tow." + +"And you had Tommy. Don't you like her?" + +"Awfully," said Peter; "I think she wants something now. But do come +across to our side. Aren't you going soon?" + +"Yes, when we can get away. Remember, everyone is watching. You go on +out, and we can meet you below." + +"Right," said Peter; "I'll collect Donovan." + +He found him after a bit, and the two made their adieus and thanks. + +As they went down the steps, Jack outlined the campaign. "I just joked to +her about dinner," he said, "but I think they'll rise. If they do, we'll +go to Travalini's, if they dare. That girl of yours is up to anything: +she knows a thing or two. You've some nerve, old thing." + +"Nothing to yours," retorted Graham, still not at all sure of himself. +"But, look here, what about Travalini's? I don't know that I care to go +there." + +"Oh, it's all right, old dear. You haven't a vast collar on now, and you +ought to see life. I've seen scores of chaplains there, even old Arnold. +I'll look after your morals. Come on; let's get out and across the road. +We shall see them coming down the steps." + +The hospital fronted on to the sea and the promenade that once was so +fashionable. The sun was setting, blood red, over the Channel, the ships +at anchor looking dark by contrast. But there was still plenty of light, +and Peter was inwardly conscious of his badges. Still, he told himself +that he was an ass, and the two of them sauntered slowly townwards. + +In a few minutes Jack glanced back. "They're coming," he said, and as the +girls crossed on to the pavement behind them, turned round. "Good for +you," he said. "You got out quicker than I thought you would. Shall we +tram or walk?" + +"Walk, I think," said Julie; "it's topping here by the sea. I want to get +a pair of shoes, and the shop's not too far. Besides, you can buy shoes +by artificial light, which won't do for some things. Tommy bought a hat +the other night, and she nearly had a fit in the morning. She's keeping +it for the next fancy-dress stunt." + +She ran on, and, despite Peter, Donovan annexed her. They set off gaily +ahead, Julie's clear laugh coming back now and again. Peter felt +depressed and angry. He told himself he was being let in for something he +did not want, and he had not much to say. To make conversation, he asked +about South Africa. + +It appeared the girls came from Natal. Miss Raynard was enthusiastic, and +he gathered they had been trained together in Pietermaritzburg, but lived +somewhere on the coast, where there was tennis all the year and moonlight +bathing picnics in the season, and excellent river boating. He could not +catch the name, but it was not too far from Durban. He said, in the end, +that he had always wanted to visit South Africa, and should certainly +come to Natal.... + +They turned off the promenade into a boulevard lined with the usual +avenue of trees. It was dusk now, and looked darker by contrast with the +street lamps. Small tram-cars rushed by now and again, with clanging +bells and platforms crowded before and behind, and there were plenty of +people in the street, Julie turned abruptly. + +"I say, Tommy," she said, "Captain Donovan wants us to go out to +dinner. What do you say? My shoes can wait, and we needn't be in till +eight-thirty. It's not more than six now. It will be a spree." + +"I'm game; but where are we going?" + +"I suggest Travalini's, padre," said Donovan. + +"Not for me;" said Miss Raynard; "it's too public and you seem to forget, +Captain' Donovan, that we are forbidden to dine with officers." + +"Nobody is likely to give us away, Tommy," said Miss Gamelyn. + +"I'm not going to take the risk in uniform. Let's go to a quiet hotel, or +else to some very French place. That would be fun." + +"A jolly good idea," cried Donovan, "and I know what will just fix us up. +Come on." + +Tommy smiled. "Probably it _will_ fix us up. Tell us about it first." + +"It's absolutely safe," Donovan protested. "It's quite French, and we +shall get one knife and fork each. There's a cinema on top, and billiards +underneath, and practically no officers go. A Belgian Captain I came out +with took me. He said you could 'eat well' there, and you can, for the +cooking is a treat. I swear it's all right." + +"Lead on," said Julie; "we'll trust you," and she manoeuvred so that her +half-section was left with Donovan. + +The four walked briskly through the dusk. "Don't you love France in the +evening?" demanded Julie. + +"Yes," said Peter, but dubiously. "I don't know it much yet," he added. + +"Oh, I do. Even a girl can almost do what she likes out here. I've had +some awful fun in Havre. I think one ought to take one's pleasure when +one has the chance, don't you? But some of these girls give me the hump; +they're so narrow. They can't see you with a man without imagining all +sorts of things, whereas I've had some rattling good pals among men out +here. Then they're so afraid of doing things--the girls, I mean. Do you +know I went to Paris when I came up here from Boulogne? Had absolutely +_the_ time. Of course, nobody knows, so don't speak of it--except Tommy, +of course." + +"How did you do it?" demanded Peter, amused. + +"Well, you see, I and another girl, English, were sent over by Boulogne, +as you know, because you saw us on the boat, and we were supposed to come +straight here. In the train we met a Canadian in the French Air Service, +and he put us wise about changing, and so on. But it appeared you have +to change at Amiens in the middle of the night, and he said the thing was +to sleep in the train and go right on to Paris. Then you got twenty-four +hours there, and left next day by the Havre express. The girl was +horribly scared, but I said we'd try it. Nothing happened at all. We had +a carriage to ourselves, and merely sat still at Amiens. When we got +to Paris we simply walked out, bold as brass. I showed our tickets at +Havre and told the French inspector we had overslept. He merely told us +the time to leave next day. We went to an hotel, and then strolled up the +Avenue de l'Opera. And what do you think? Who should I see but an old dear +of a General I knew out in South Africa who is in the French Red Cross. +He was simply delighted to see us. He motored us out to the Bois in the +afternoon, dined us, and took us to the theatre--only, by Jove! I did +curse that other girl. She was in a ferment all the time. Next morning he +had a job on, but he sent a car for us with a subaltern to put us on the +train, and we went to the R.T.O. this time. He couldn't do enough for us +when he heard the name of General de Villiers and saw his card. We got +into Havre at midday, and nobody was a penny the wiser." + +Peter laughed. "You were lucky," he said; "perhaps you always are." + +"No, I'm not," she said "but I usually do what I want and get through +with it. Hullo, is this the place?" + +"I suppose so," said Peter. "Now for it. Look as if you'd been going to +such places all your life." + +"I've probably been more often than you, anyhow, Solomon," said Julie, +and she ran lightly up the steps. + +They passed through swing-doors into a larger hall brilliantly lit and +heavy with a mixed aroma of smoke and food. There was a sort of hum of +sound going on all the time and Peter looked round wonderingly. He +perceived immediately that there was an atmosphere about this French +restaurant unlike that of any he had been in before. He was, in truth, +utterly bewildered by what he saw, but he made an effort not to show it. +Julie, on the other hand, was fairly carried away. They seated themselves +at a table for four near the end of the partition, and she led the party +in gaiety. Donovan hardly took his eyes off her, and cut in with dry, +daring remarks with a natural case. Tommy played a good second to Julie, +and if she had had any fears they were not visible now. + +"What about an appetiser?" demanded Donovan. + +"Oh, rather! Mixed vermuth for me; but Tommy must have a very small one: +she gets drunk on nothing. Give me a cigarette now, padre; I'm dying to +smoke." + +Peter produced his case. "Don't call him 'padre' here," said Donovan; +"you'll spoil his enjoyment." + +"A cigarette, Solomon, then," whispered Julie, as the other turned to +beckon a _garçon_, flashing her eyes on him. + +Peter resisted no longer. "Don't," he said. "Call me anything but that." +It seemed to him that there was something inevitable in it all. He did +not formulate his sensations, but it was the lure of the contrast that +won him. Ever since he had landed in France he had, as it were, hung on +to the old conventional position, and he had felt increasingly that it +was impossible to do so. True, there seemed little connection between a +dinner with a couple of madcap girls in a French restaurant and religion, +but there was one. He had felt out of touch with men and life, and now a +new phase of it was offered him. He reached out for it eagerly. + +Julie leaned back and blew out a thin stream of smoke, her eyes daring +him, picking up the little glass as she did so. + +_"Here's to the girl with the little grey shoes,"_ she chanted merrily. + +"Don't Julie, for Heaven's sake!" pleaded Tommy. "He'll be shocked." + +"Oh, go on," said Peter; "what is it?" + +"Captain Donovan will finish," laughed Julie. + +"'Deed I can't, for I don't know it," he said. "Let's have it, little +girl; I'm sure it's a sporting toast." + +"_Who eats your grub and drinks your booze_," continued she. + +"Shut up, Julie," said Tommy, leaning over as if to snatch her glass. + +"_And then goes home to her mother to snooze_," called Julie +breathlessly, leaning back. + +"_I don't think_," ejaculated Donovan. + +Julie tipped down the drink. "You knew it all the time," she said. And +they all burst out laughing. + +Peter drank, and called for another, his eyes on Julie. He knew that he +could not sum her up, but he refused to believe that this was the secret +behind the eyes. She was too gay, too insolent. What Donovan thought he +could not say, but he almost hated him for the ease with which he kept +pace with their companions. + +They ordered dinner, and the great dish of _hors d'oeuvres_ was brought +round by a waiter who seemed to preside over it with a fatherly +solicitude. Julie picked up an olive in her fingers, and found it so good +that she grumbled at only having taken one. + +"Have mine," said Donovan, shooting one on to her plate. + +"Thanks," she said. "Oh, heavens! I forgot that patch on my left +cheek--or was it my right, Solomon? Let's see." + +She dived into her pocket, and produced a tiny satin beaded box, "Isn't +it chic?" she demanded, leaning over to show Donovan. "I got it in the +Nouvelles Galeries the other day." She took off the lid, which revealed +its reverse as a tiny mirror, and scrutinised herself, patting back a +stray lock on her forehead. + +"Oh, don't," said Donovan, and he slipped the hair out again with his +finger. + +"Be quiet; but I'll concede that. This won't do, though." Out came a tiny +powder-puff. "How's that?" she demanded, smiling up at him. + +"Perfect," he said. "But it's not fair to do that here." + +"Wait for the taxi then," she said. "Besides, it won't matter so much +then." + +"What won't matter?" demanded Peter. + +"Solomon, dear, you're as innocent as a new-born babe. Isn't he?" she +demanded of his friend. + +Donovan looked across at him. "Still waters run deep," he said. "I don't +know, but excuse me!" + +He had been sitting next Julie and opposite Miss Raynard, but he was now +on his feet and begging her to change places with him. She consented, +laughing, and did so, but Julie pretended to be furious. + +"I won't have it. You're a perfect beast, Tommy. Captain Donovan, I'll +never come out with you again. Solomon, come and sit here, and you, +Tommy, go over there." + +Peter hadn't an idea why, but he too got up. Tommy protested. "Look +here," she said, "I came for dinner, not for a dance. Oh, look out, +Captain Graham; you'll upset the cutlets!" Peter avoided the waiter by an +effort, but came on round her to the other side. + +"Get out of it, Tommy," said Julie, leaning over and pushing her. "I will +have a man beside me, anyhow." + +"I'd sooner be opposite," said Donovan. "I can see you better, and you +can't make eyes at the Frenchman at the other table quite so well if I +get my head in the way." + +"Oh, but he's such a dear," said Julie. "I'd love to flirt with him. Only +I must say his hair is a bit greasy." + +"You'll make his lady furious if you don't take care," said Donovan, "and +it's a shame to spoil her trade." + +Peter glanced across. A French officer, sitting opposite a painted girl, +was smiling at them. He looked at Julie; she was smiling back. + +"Julie, don't for Heaven's sake," said her half-section. "We shall have +him over here next, and you remember once before how awkward it was." + +Julie laughed. "Give me another drink, then, Captain Donovan," she said, +"and I'll be good." + +Donovan filled up her glass. She raised it and challenged him. "_Here's +to we two in Blighty_," she began. + +Miss Raynard rose determinedly and interrupted her. "Come on," she said; +"that's a bit too much, Julie. We must go, or we'll never get back, and +don't forget you've got to go on duty in the morning, my dear." She +pulled out a little watch. "Good heavens!" she cried. "Do you know the +time? It's eight-twenty now. We ought to have been in by eight, and +eighty-thirty is the latest time that's safe. For any sake, come on." + +Julie for once agreed. "Good Lord, yes," she said. "We must have a taxi. +Can we get one easily?" + +"Oh, I expect so," said Donovan. "Settle up, Graham, will you? while I +shepherd them out and get a car. Come on, and take care how you pass the +Frenchman." + +In a few minutes Peter joined them on the steps outside. The restaurant +was in the corner of a square which contained a small public garden, and +the three of them were waiting for him on the curb. A taxi stood by them. +The broad streets ran away to left and right, gay with lights and +passers-by, and the dark trees stood out against a starry sky. A group of +British officers went laughing by, and one of them recognised Donovan and +hailed him. Two spahis crossed out of the shade into the light, their red +and gold a picturesque splash of colour. Behind them glared the staring +pictures of the cinema show on a great hoarding by the wall. + +"Come on, Graham," called Donovan, "hop in." + +The four packed in closely, Peter and Tommy opposite the other two, Julie +farthest from Peter. They started, and he caught her profile as the +street lights shone in and out with the speed of their passing. She was +smoking, puffing quickly at her cigarette, and hardly silent a moment. + +"It's been a perfect treat," she said. "You're both dears, aren't they, +Tommy? You must come and have tea at the hospital any day: just walk in. +Mine's Ward 3. Come about four o'clock, and you'll find me any day this +week, Tommy's opposite. There's usually a crush at tea, but you must +come. By the way, where's your camp? Aren't you going heaps out of your +way? Solomon, where do you live? Tell me." + +Peter grinned in the dark, and told her. + +"Oh, you perfect beast!" she said, "Then you knew the Quai de France all +the time. Well, you're jolly near, anyway." "Oh, Lord!" she exclaimed +suddenly, "you aren't the new padre?" + +"I am," said Peter. + +"Good Lord! what a spree! Then you'll come in on duty. You can come in +any hour of the day or night. Tommy, do you hear that? Solomon's our +spiritual pastor. He's begun well, hasn't he?" + +Peter was silent. It jarred him horribly. But just then the car slowed +down. + +"What's up now?" demanded Donovan. + +"Only the sentry at the swing bridge," said Tommy. "They stop all cars at +night. He's your side, dear; give him the glad eye." + +The door opened, and a red-cap looked in. "Hospital, corporal; it's all +right," said Julie, beaming at him. + +"Oh, all right, miss. Good-night," said the man, stepping back and +saluting in the light of the big electric standard at the bridgehead. +"Carry on, driver!" + +"We're just there," said Julie; "I am sorry. It's been rippin'. Stop the +car, Solomon, somewhere near the leave-boat; it won't do to drive right +up to the hospital; we might be spotted." + +Peter leaned out of the window on his side. The lights on the quay glowed +steadily across the dark water, and made golden flicking streaks upon it +as the tide swelled slowly in. In the distance a great red eye flashed in +and out solemnly, and on their side he could see the shaded lights of the +hospital ship, getting ready for her night crossing. He judged it was +time, and told the man to stop. + +"Where's my powder-puff?" demanded Julie. "I believe you've bagged it, +Captain Donovan. No, it's here. Skip out, Tommy. Is anyone about?" + +"No," said the girl from the step. "But don't wait all night. We'd best +run for it." + +"Well, good-night," said Julie. "You have both been dears, but whether +I'm steady enough to get in safely I don't know. Still, Tommy's a rock. +See you again soon. Good-bye-ee!" + +She leaned forward. "_Now_, if you're good," she said to Donovan. He +kissed her, laughing; and before he knew what she was doing, she reached +over to Peter, kissed him twice on the lips, and leaped lightly out. "Be +good," she said, "and if you can't, be careful." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Following a delay of some days, there had been a fairly heavy mail, and +Peter took his letters to the little terrace by the sea outside the mess, +and sat in the sun to read them. While he was so occupied Arnold appeared +with a pipe, but, seeing him engaged, went back for a novel and a +deck-chair. It was all very peaceful and still, and beyond occasional +hammering from, the leisurely construction of the outer harbour wall and +once or twice the siren of a signalling steamer entering the docks, there +was nothing to disturb them at all. Perhaps half an hour passed, then +Peter folded up some sheets, put them in his pocket, and walked moodily +to the edge of the concrete, staring down, at the lazy slushing of the +tide against: the wall below him. + +He kicked a pebble discontentedly into the water, and turned to look, at +Arnold. The older man was stretched out: in his chair smoking a pipe and +regarding him. A slow smile passed between them. + +"No, hang it all," said Peter; "there's nothing to smile about, Arnold, +I've pretty well got to the end of my tether." + +"Meaning what exactly?" queried the other. + +"Oh, well, you know enough already to guess the rest.... Look here, +Arnold, you and. I are fairly good pals now, I'd just like to tell you +exactly what I feel." + +"Sit down then, man, and get it out. There's a chair yonder, and you've +got the forenoon before ye. I'm a heretic and all that sort of thing, of +course, but perhaps that'll make it easier. I take it it's a kind of +heretic you're becoming yourself." + +Peter pulled up a chair and got out his own pipe. "Arnold," he said, "I'm +too serious to joke, and I don't know that I'm even a Christian heretic. +I don't know what I am and where I stand. I wish I did; I wish I even +knew how much I disbelieved, for then I'd know what to do. But it's not +that my dogmas have been attacked and weakened. I've no new light on the +Apostles' Creed and no fresh doubts about it. I could still argue for the +Virgin Birth of Christ and the Trinity, and so on. But it's worse than +that. I feel ..." He broke off abruptly and pulled at his pipe. The other +said nothing. They were friends enough by now to understand each other. +In a little while the younger man found the words he wanted. + +"Look here, it's like this. I remember once, on the East Coast, coming +across a stone breakwater high and dry in a field half a mile from the +sea. There was nothing the matter with the breakwater, and it served +admirably for certain purposes--a seat, for instance, or a shady place +for a picnic. But it was no longer of any vital use in the world, for the +sea had receded and left it there. Now, that's just what I feel. I had a +religion; I suppose it had its weaknesses and its faults; but most of it +was good sound stone, and it certainly had served. But it serves no +longer, not because it's damaged, but because the need for it has changed +its nature or is no longer there." He trailed off into silence and +stopped. + +Arnold stirred to get out his pouch. "The sea is shifty, though," he +said. "If they keep the breakwater in decent repair, it'll come in handy +again." + +"Yes," burst out Peter. "But, of course, that's where illustrations are +so little good: you can't press them. And in any case no engineer worth +his salt would sit down by his breakwater and smoke a pipe till the sea +came in handy again. His job is to go after it." + +"True for ye, boy. But if the old plan was so good, why not go down to +the beach and get on with building operations of the same sort?" + +"Arnold," said Peter, "you couldn't have put it better. That's exactly +what I came here to do. I knew in London that the sea was receding to +some extent, and I thought that there was a jolly good chance to get up +with it again out here. But that leads straight to my second problem: +I can't build on the old plan, and it doesn't seem any good. It's as +if our engineer found quicksands that wouldn't hold his stone, and +cross-currents that smashed up all his piles.... I mean, I thought I knew +what would save souls. But I find that I can't because my methods are--I +don't know, faulty perhaps, out of date maybe possibly worse; and, what +is more, the souls don't want my saving. The Lord knows they want +something; I can see that fast enough, but what it is I don't know. +Heavens! I remember preaching in the beginning of the war from the text +'Jesus had compassion on the multitude.' Well I don't feel that He has +changed, and I'm quite sure He still has compassion, but the multitude +doesn't want it. I was wrong about the crowd. It's nothing like what I +imagined. The crowd isn't interested in Jesus any more. It doesn't +believe in Him. It's a different sort of crowd altogether from the one He +led." + +"I wonder," said Arnold. + +Peter moved impatiently. "Well, I don't see how you can," he said. "Do +you think Tommy worries about his sins? Are the men in our mess +miserable? Does the girl the good books talked about, who flirts and +smokes and drinks and laughs, sit down by night on the edge of her little +white bed and feel a blank in her life? Does she, Arnold?" + +"I'm blest if I know; I haven't been there! You seem to know a precious +lot about it," he added dryly. + +"Oh, don't rag and don't be facetious. If you do, I shall clear. I'm +trying to talk sense, and at any rate it's what I feel. And I believe you +know I'm right too." Peter was plainly a bit annoyed. + +The elder padre sat up straight at that, and his tone changed. He stared +thoughtfully out to sea and did not smoke. But he did not speak all at +once. Peter glanced at him, and then lay back in his chair and waited. + +Arnold spoke at last: possibly the harbour works inspired him. "Look +here, boy," he said, "let's get back to your illustration, which is no +such a bad one. What do you suppose your engineer would do when he got +down to the new sea-beach and found the conditions you described? It +wouldn't do much good if he sat down and cursed the blessed sea and the +sands and the currents, would it? It would be mighty little use if he +blamed his good stone and sound timber, useless though they appeared. +I'm thinking he'd be no much of an engineer either if he chucked his +job. What would he do, d'you think?" + +"Go on," said Peter, interested. + +"Well," said the speaker in parables, "unless I'm mighty mistaken, he'd +get down first to studying the new conditions. He'd find they'd got laws +governing them, same as the old--different laws maybe, but things you +could perhaps reckon with if you knew them. And when he knew them, I +reckon he'd have a look at his timber and stone and iron, and get out +plans. Maybe, these days, he'd help out with a few tons of reinforced +concrete, and get in a bit o' work with some high explosive. I'm no +saying. But if he came from north of the Tweed, my lad," he added, with a +twinkle in his eye and a touch of accent, "I should be verra surprised +if that foreshore hadn't a breakwater that would do its duty in none so +long a while." + +"And if he came from south of the Tweed, and found himself in France?" +queried Peter. + +"I reckon he'd get down among the multitude and make a few inquiries," +said Arnold, more gravely. "I reckon he wouldn't be in too great a hurry, +and he wouldn't believe all he saw and heard without chewing on it a bit, +as our Yankee friends say. And he'd know well enough that there was +nothing wrong with his Master, and no change in His compassion, only, +maybe, that he had perhaps misunderstood both a little." + +A big steamer hooted as she came up the river, and the echoes of the +siren died out slowly among the houses that climbed up the hill behind +them. + +Then Peter put his hand up and rested his head upon it, shading his face. + +"That's difficult--and dangerous, Arnold" he said. + +"It is that, laddie," the other answered quickly. "There was a time when +I would have thought it too difficult and too dangerous for a boy of +mine. But I've had a lesson or two to learn out here as well as other +folks. Up the line men have learnt not to hesitate at things because they +are difficult and dangerous. And I'll tell you something else we've +learnt--that it is better for half a million to fail in the trying than +for the thing not to be tried at all." + +"Arnold," said Peter, "what about yourself? Do you mind my asking? Do you +feel this sort of thing at all, and, if so, what's your solution?" + +The padre from north of the Tweed knocked the ashes out of his pipe and +got up, "Young man," he said, "I don't mind your asking, but I'm getting +old, and my answering wouldn't do either of us any good, if I have a +solution I don't suppose it would be yours. Besides, a man can't save his +brother, and not even a father can save his son .... I've nothing to tell +ye, except, maybe, this: don't fear and don't falter, and wherever you +get to, remember that God is there. David is out of date these days, +and very likely it wasn't David at all, but I don't know anything truer +in the auld book than yon verse where it says: 'Though I go down into +hell, Thou art there also.'" + +"I beg your pardon, padre," said a drawling voice behind them. "I caught +a word just now which I understand no decent clergyman uses except in the +pulpit. If, therefore, you are preaching, I will at once and discreetly +withdraw, but if not, for his very morals' sake, I will withdraw your +congregation--that is, if he hasn't forgotten his engagement." + +Graham jumped up. "Good Heavens, Pennell!" he exclaimed, "I'm blest if I +hadn't." He pushed his arm out and glanced at his watch. "Oh, there's +plenty of time, anyway. I'm lunching with this blighter down town, padre, +at some special restaurant of his," he explained, "and I take it the sum +and substance of his unseemly remarks are that he thinks we ought to get +a move on." + +"Don't let me stand in the way of your youthful pleasures," said Arnold, +smiling; "but take care of yourself, Graham. Eat and drink, for to-morrow +you die; but don't eat and drink too much in case you live to the day +after." + +"I'll remember," said Peter, "but I hope it won't be necessary. However, +you never know 'among the multitude,' do you?" he added. + +Arnold caught up the light chair and lunged out at him. "Ye unseemly +creature," he shouted, "get out of it and leave me in peace." + +Pennell and Peter left the camp and crossed the swing bridge into the +maze of docks. Threading their way along as men who knew it thoroughly +they came at length to the main roadway, with its small, rather smelly +shops, its narrow side-streets almost like Edinburgh closes, and its +succession of sheds and offices between which one glimpsed the water. +Just here, the war had made a difference. There was less pleasure traffic +up Seine and along Channel, though the Southampton packet ran as +regularly as if no submarine had ever been built. Peter liked Pennell. +He was an observant creature of considerable decencies, and a good +companion. He professed some religion, and although it was neither +profound nor apparently particularly vital, it helped to link the two +men. As they went on, the shops grew a little better, but no restaurant +was visible that offered much expectation. + +"Where in the world are you taking me?" demanded Peter. "I don't mind +slums in the way of business, but I prefer not to go to lunch in them." + +"Wait and see, my boy," returned his companion, "and don't protest till +it's called for. Even then wait a bit longer, and your sorrow shall be +turned into joy--and that's Scripture. Great Scott! see what comes of +fraternising with padres! _Now._" + +So saying he dived in to the right down a dark passage, into which the +amazed Peter followed him. He had already opened a door at the end of it +by the time Peter got there, and was halfway up a flight of wood stairs +that curved up in front of them out of what was, obviously, a kitchen. +A huge man turned his head as Peter came in, and surveyed him silently, +his hands dexterously shaking a frying-pan over a fire as he did so. + +"Bon jour, monsieur," said Peter politely. + +Monsieur grunted, but not unpleasantly, and Peter gripped the banister +and commenced to ascend. Half-way up he was nearly sent flying down +again. A rosy-cheeked girl, short and dark, with sparkling eyes, had +thrust herself down between him and the rail from a little landing above, +and was shouting: + +"Une omelette aux champignons. Jambon. Pommes sautes, s'il vous plait." + +Peter recovered himself and smiled. "Bon jour, mademoiselle," he said, +this time. In point of fact, he could say very little else. + +"Bon jour, monsieur," said, the girl, and something else that he could +not catch, but by this time he had reached the top in time to witness a +little 'business' there. A second girl, taller, older, slower, but +equally smiling, was taking Pennell's cap and stick and gloves, making +play with her eyes the while. "Merci, chérie," he heard his friend say +and then, in a totally different voice: "Ah! Bon jour Marie." + +A third girl was before them. In her presence the other two withdrew. She +was tall, plain, shrewd of face, with reddish hair, but she smiled even +as the others. It was little more than a glance that Peter got, for she +called an order (at which the first girl again disappeared down the +stairs) greeted Pennell, replied to his question that there were two +places, and was out of sight again in the room, seemingly all at once. He +too, then, surrendered cap and stick, and followed his companion in. + +There were no more than four tables in the little room--two for six, and +two for four or five. Most were filled, but he and Pennell secured two +seats with their backs to the wall opposite a couple of Australian +officers who had apparently just commenced. Peter's was by the window, +and he glanced out to see the sunlit street below, the wide sparkling +harbour, and right opposite the hospital he had now visited several times +and his own camp near it. There was the new green of spring shoots in the +window-boxes, snowy linen on the table, a cheerful hum of conversation +about him, and an oak-panelled wall behind that had seen the Revolution. + +"Pennell," he said, "you're a marvel. The place is perfect." + +By the time they had finished Peter was feeling warmed and friendly, the +Australians had been joined to their company, and the four spent an idle +afternoon cheerfully enough. There was nothing in strolling through the +busy streets, joking a little over very French picture post-cards, +quizzing the passing girls, standing in a queue at Cox's, and finally +drawing a fiver in mixed French notes, or in wandering through a huge +shop of many departments to buy some toilet necessities. But it was good +fun. There was a comradeship, a youthfulness, carelessness, about it all +that gripped Peter. He let himself go, and when he did so he was a good +companion. + +One little incident in the Grand Magasin completed his abandonment to the +day and the hour. They were ostensibly buying a shaving-stick, but at the +moment were cheerily wandering through the department devoted to +_lingerie_. The attendant girls, entirely at ease, were trying to +persuade the taller of the two Australians, whom his friend addressed +as "Alex," to buy a flimsy lace nightdress "for his fiancée," readily +pointing out that he would find no difficulty in getting rid of it +elsewhere if he had not got such a desirable possession, when Peter heard +an exclamation behind him. + +"Hullo!" said a girl's voice; "fancy finding you here!" He turned quickly +and blushed. Julie laughed merrily. + +"Caught out," she said, "Tell me what you're buying, and for whom. A +blouse, a camisole, or worse?" + +"I'm not buying," said Peter, recovering his ease. "We're just strolling +round, and that girl insists that my friend the Australian yonder should +buy a nightie for his fiancée. He says he hasn't one, so she is +persuading him that he can easily pick one up. What do you think?" + +She glanced over at the little group. "Easier than some people I know, +I should think," she said, smiling, taking in his six feet of bronzed +manhood. "But it's no use your buying it. I wear pyjamas, silk, and I +prefer Venns'." + +"I'll remember," said Peter. "By the way, I'm coming to tea again +to-morrow." + +"That will make three times this week," she said. "But I suppose you +will go round the ward first." Then quickly, for Peter looked slightly +unhappy: "Next week I've a whole day off." + +"No?" he said eagerly "Oh, do let's fix something up. Will you come out +somewhere?" + +Her eyes roved across to Pennell, who was bearing down upon them. "We'll +fix it up to-morrow," she said. "Bring Donovan, and I'll get Tommy. And +now introduce me nicely." + +He did so, and she talked for a few minutes, and then went off to join +some friends, who had moved on to another department. "By Jove," said +Pennell, "that's some girl! I see now why you are so keen on the +hospital, old dear. Wish I were a padre." + +"I shall be padre in ..." began Alex, but Peter cut him short. + +"Oh, Lord," he said, "I'm tired of that! Come on out of it, and let's get +a refresher somewhere. What's the club like here?" + +"Club's no good," said Pennell. "Let's go to Travalini's and introduce +the padre. He's not been there yet." + +"I thought everyone knew it," said the other Australian--rather +contemptuously, Peter thought. What with one thing and another, he felt +suddenly that he'd like to go. He remembered how nearly he had gone there +in other company. "Come on, then," he said, and led the way out. + +There was nothing in Travalini's to distinguish it from many other such +places--indeed, to distinguish it from the restaurant in which Peter, +Donovan, and the girls had dined ten days or so before, except that it +was bigger, more garish, more expensive, and, consequently, more British +in patronage. The restaurant was, however, separated more completely +from the drinking-lounge, in which, among palms, a string-band played. +There was an hotel above besides, and that helped business, but one could +come and go innocently enough, for all that there was "anything a +gentleman wants," as the headwaiter, who talked English, called himself a +Belgian, and had probably migrated from over the Rhine, said. Everybody, +indeed, visited the place now and again. Peter and his friends went in +between the evergreen shrubs in their pots, and through the great glass +swing-door, with every assurance. The place seemed fairly full. There was +a subdued hum of talk and clink of glasses; waiters hurried to and fro; +the band was tuning up. British uniforms predominated, but there were +many foreign officers and a few civilians. There were perhaps a couple of +dozen girls scattered about the place besides. + +The friends found a corner with a big plush couch which took three of +them, and a chair for Alex. A waiter bustled up and they ordered drinks, +which came on little saucers marked with the price. Peter lay back +luxuriously. + +"Chin-chin," said the other Australian, and the others responded. + +"That's good," said Pennell. + +"Not so many girls here this afternoon," remarked Alex carelessly. "See, +Dick, there's that little Levantine with the thick dark hair. She's +caught somebody." + +Peter looked across in the direction indicated. The girl, in a cerise +costume with a big black hat, short skirt, and dainty bag, was sitting in +a chair halfway on to them and leaning over the table before her. As he +watched, she threw her head back and laughed softly. He caught the gleam +of a white throat and of dark sloe eyes. + +"She's a pretty one," said Pennell. "God! but they're queer little bits +of fluff, these girls. It beats me how they're always gay, and always +easy to get and to leave. And they get rottenly treated sometimes." + +"Yes I'm damned if I understand them," said Alex. "Now, padre, I'll tell +you something that's more in your way than mine, and you can see what you +make of it. I was in a maison tolerée the other day--you know the sort +of thing--and there were half a dozen of us in the sitting-room with the +girls, drinking fizz. I had a little bit of a thing with fair hair--she +couldn't have been more than seventeen at most, I reckon--with a laugh +that did you good to hear, and, by gum! we wanted to be cheered just +then, for we had had a bit of a gruelling on the Ancre and had been +pulled out of the line to refit. She sat there with an angel's face, a +chemise transparent except where it was embroidered, and not much else, +and some of the women were fair beasts. Well, she moved on my knee, and I +spilt some champagne and swore--'Jesus Christ!' I said. Do you know, she +pushed back from me as if I had hit her! 'Oh, don't say His Name!' she +said. 'Promise me you won't say it again. Do you not know how He loved +us?' I was so taken aback that I promised, and to tell you the truth, +padre, I haven't said it since. What do you think of that?" + +Peter shook his head and drained his glass. He couldn't have spoken at +once; the little story, told in such a place, struck him so much. Then he +asked: "But is that all? How did she come to be there?" + +"Well," Alex said, "that's just as strange. Father was in a French +cavalry regiment, and got knocked out on the Marne. They lived in Arras +before the war, and you can guess that there wasn't much left of the +home. One much older sister was a widow with a big family; the other was +a kid of ten or eleven, so this one went into the business to keep the +family going. Fact. The mother used to come and see her, and I got to +know her. She didn't seem to mind: said the doctors looked after them +well, and the girl was making good money. Hullo!" he broke off, "there's +Louise," and to Peter's horror he half-rose and smiled across at a girl +some few tables away. + +She got up and came over, beamed on them all, and took the seat Alex +vacated. "Good-evening," she said, in fair English, scrutinising them. +"What is it you say, 'How's things'?" + +Alex pressed a drink on her and beckoned the waiter. She took a syrup, +the rest martinis. Peter sipped his, and watched her talking to Alex and +Pennell. The other Australian got up and crossed the room, and sat down +with some other men. + +The stories he had heard moved him profoundly. He wondered if they were +true, but he seemed to see confirmation in the girl before him. Despite +some making up, it was a clean face, if one could say so. She was +laughing and talking with all the ease in the world, though Peter noticed +that her eyes kept straying round the room. Apparently his friends had +all her attention, but he could see it was not so. She was on the watch +for clients, old or new. He thought how such a girl would have disgusted +him a few short weeks ago, but he did not feel disgusted now. He could +not. He did not know what he felt. He wondered, as he looked, if she were +one of "the multitude," and then the fragment of a text slipped through +his brain: "The Friend of publicans and sinners." "_The_ Friend": the +little adjective struck him as never before. Had they ever had another? +He frowned to himself at the thought, and could not help wondering +vaguely what his Vicar or the Canon would have done in Travalini's. Then +he wondered instantly what that Other would have done, and he found no +answer at all. + +"Yes, but I do not know your friend yet," he heard the girl say, and saw +she was being introduced to Pennell. She held out a decently gloved hand +with a gesture that startled him--it was so like Hilda's. Hilda! The +comparison dazed him. He fancied he could see her utter disgust, and then +he involuntarily shook his head; it would be too great for him to +imagine. What would she have made of the story he had just heard? He +concluded she would flatly disbelieve it.... + +But Julie? He smiled to himself, and then, for the first time, suddenly +asked himself what he really felt towards Julie. He remembered that first +night and the kiss, and how he had half hated it, half liked it. He felt +now, chiefly, anger that Donovan had had one too. One? But he, Peter, +had had two.... Then he called himself a damned fool; it was all of a +piece with her extravagant and utterly unconventional madness. But what, +then, would she say to this? Had she anything in common with it? + +He played with that awhile, blowing out thoughtful rings of smoke. It +struck him that she had, but he was fully aware that that did not +disgust him in the least. It almost fascinated him, just as--that _was_ +it--Hilda's disgust would repel him. Why? He hadn't an idea. + +"Monsieur le Capitaine is very dull," said a girl's voice at his elbow. +He started: Louise had moved to the sofa and was smiling at him. He +glanced towards his companions, Alex was standing, finishing a last +drink; Pennell staring at Louise. + +He looked back at the girl, straight into her eyes, and could not read +them in the least. The darkened eyebrows and the glitter in them baffled +him. But he must speak, "Am I?" he said. "Forgive me, mademoiselle; I was +thinking." + +"Of your fiancée--is it not so? Ah! The Capitaine has his fiancée, then? +In England? Ah, well, the girls in England do not suffer like we girls in +France.... They are proud, too, the English misses. I know, for I have +been there, to--how do you call it?--Folkestone. They walk with the head +in the air," and she tilted up her chin so comically that Peter smiled +involuntarily. + +"No, I do not like them," went on the girl deliberately. "They are +only half alive, I think. I almost wish the Boche had been in your +land.... They are cold, la! And not so very nice to kiss, eh?" + +"They're not all like that," said Pennell. + +"Ah, non? But you like the girls of France the best, mon ami; is it not +so?" She leaned across towards him significantly. + +Pennell laughed. "_Now_, yes, perhaps," he said deliberately; "but after +the war ..." and he shrugged his shoulders, like a Frenchman. + +A shade passed over the girl's face, and she got up. "It is so," she +said lightly. "Monsieur speaks very true--oh, very true! The girls of +France now--they are gay, they are alive, they smile, and it is war, and +you men want these things. But after--oh, I know you English--you'll go +home and be--how do you say?--'respectable,' and marry an English miss, +and have--oh! many, many bébés, and wear the top-hat, and go to church. +There is no country like England...." She made a little gesture. "What do +you believe, you English? In le bon Dieu? Non. In love? Ah, non! In what, +then? Je ne sais!" She laughed again. "What 'ave I said? Forgive me, +monsieur, and you also, Monsieur le Capitaine. But I do see a friend of +mine. See, I go! Bon soir." + +She looked deliberately at Peter a moment, then smiled comprehensively +and left them. Peter saw that Alex had gone already; he asked no +questions, but looked at Pennell inquiringly. + +"I think so, padre; I've had enough of it to-night. Let's clear. We can +get back in time for mess." + +They went out into the darkening streets, crossed an open square, and +turned down a busy road to the docks. They walked quickly, but Peter +seemed to himself conscious of everyone that passed. He scanned faces, +as if to read a riddle in them. There were men who lounged by, gay, +reckless, out for fun plainly, but without any other sinister thought, +apparently. There were Tommies who saluted and trudged on heavily. There +were a couple of Yorkshire boys who did not notice them, flushed, animal, +making determinedly for a destination down the street. There was one man +at least who passed walking alone, with a tense, greedy, hard face, and +Peter all but shuddered. + +The lit shops gave way to a railed space, dark by contrast, and a tall +building of old blackened stone, here and there chipped white, loomed up. +Moved by an impulse, Peter paused, "Let's see if it's open, Pennell," he +said. "Do you mind? I won't be a second." + +"Not a scrap, old man," said Pennell, "I'll come in too." + +Peter walked up to a padded leather-covered door and pushed. It swung +open. They stepped in, into a faintly broken silence, and stood still. + +Objects loomed up indistinctly--great columns, altars, pews. Far away a +light flickered and twinkled, and from the top of the aisle across the +church from the door by which they had entered a radiance glowed and lost +itself in the black spaces of the high roof and wide nave. Peter crossed +towards that side, and his companion followed. They trod softly, like +good Englishmen in church, and they moved up the aisle a little to see +more clearly; and so, having reached a place from which much was visible, +remained standing for a few seconds. + +The light streamed from an altar, and from candles above it set around +a figure of the Mother of God. In front knelt a priest, and behind him, +straggling back in the pews, a score or so of women, some children, and +a blue-coated French soldier or two. The priest's voice sounded thin +and low: neither could hear what he said; the congregation made rapid +responses regularly, but eliding the, to them, familiar words. There was, +then, the murmur of repeated prayer, like muffled knocking on a door, and +nothing more. + +"Let's go," whispered Pennell at last. + +They went out, and shut the door softly behind them. As they did so, some +other door was opened noisily and banged, while footsteps began to drag +slowly across the stone floor and up the aisle they had come down. The +new-comer subsided into a pew with a clatter on the boards, but the +murmured prayers went on unbroken. + +Outside the street engulfed them. The same faces passed by. A street-car +banged and clattered up towards the centre of the town, packed with +jovial people. Pennell looked towards it half longingly. "Great Scott, +Graham! I wish, now, we hadn't come away so soon," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The lower valley of the Seine is one of the most beautiful and +interesting river-stretches in Northern Europe. It was the High Street of +old Normandy, and feuda, barons and medieval monks have left their mark +upon it. From the castle of Tancarville to the abbey of Jumièges +you can read the story of their doings; or when you stand in the Roman +circus at Lillebonne, or enter the ancient cloister of M. Maeterlinck's +modern residence at St. Wandrille, see plainly enough the writing of a +still older legend, such as appeared, once, on the wall of a palace in +Babylon. On the left bank steep hills, originally wholly clothed with +forest and still thickly wooded, run down to the river with few breaks +in them, each break, however, being garrisoned by an ancient town. Of +these, Caudebec stands unrivalled. On the right bank the flat plain of +Normandy stretches to the sky-line, pink-and-white in spring with miles +of apple-orchards. The white clouds chase across its fair blue sky, +driven by the winds from the sea, and tall poplars rise in their uniform +rows along the river as if to guard a Paradise. + +Caudebec can be reached from Le Havre in a few hours, and although cars +for hire and petrol were not abundant in France at the time, one could +find a chauffeur to make the journey if one was prepared to pay. Given +fine weather, it was an ideal place for a day off in the spring. And +Peter knew it. + +In the Grand Magasin Julie had talked of a day off, and a party of four +had been mooted, but when he had leisure to think of it, Peter found +himself averse to four, and particularly if one of the four were to be +Donovan. He admitted it freely to himself. Donovan was the kind of a +man, he thought, that Julie must like, and he was the kind of man, too, +to put him, Peter, into the shade. Ordinarily he asked for no better +companion, but he hated to see Julie and Jack together. He could not make +the girl out, and he wanted to do so. He wanted to know what she thought +about many things, and--incidentally, of course--what she thought about +him. + +He had argued all this over next morning while shaving, and had ended +by cutting himself. It was a slight matter, but it argued a certain +absent-mindedness, and it brought him back to decency. He perceived that +he was scheming to leave his friend out, and he fought resolutely against +the idea. Therefore, that afternoon, he went to the hospital, spent a +couple of hours chatting with the men, and finally wound up in the +nurses' mess-room for tea as usual. It was a little room, long and +narrow, at the end of the biggest ward, but its windows looked over the +sea and it was convenient to the kitchen. Coloured illustrations cut from +magazines and neatly mounted on brown paper decorated the walls, but +there was little else by way of furniture or ornament except a long table +and chairs. One could get but little talk except of a scrappy kind, for +nurses came continually in and out for tea, and, indeed, Julie had only a +quarter of an hour to spare. But he got things fixed up for the following +Thursday, and he left the place to settle with Donovan. + +That gentleman's company of native labour was lodged a mile or so through +the docks from Peter's camp, on the banks of the Tancarville Canal. It +was enlivened at frequent intervals, day and night, by the sirens of +tugs bringing strings of barges to the docks, whence their cargo was +borne overseas in the sea-going tramps, or, of course, taking equally +long strings to the Seine for Rouen and Paris. It was mud and cinders +underfoot, and it was walled off with corrugated-iron sheeting and +barbed wire from the attentions of some hundreds of Belgian refugees who +lived along the canal and parallel roads in every conceivable kind of +resting-place, from ancient bathing-vans to broken-down railway-trucks. +But there were trees along the canal and reeds and grass, so that there +were worse places than Donovan's camp in Le Havre. + +Peter found his friend surveying the endeavours of a gang of boys to +construct a raised causeway from the officers' mess to the orderly-room, +and he promptly broached his object. Donovan was entranced with the +proposal, but he could not go. He was adamant upon it. He could possibly +have got off, but it meant leaving his something camp for a whole day, +and just at present he couldn't. Peter could get Pennell or anyone. +Another time, perhaps, but not now. For thus can the devil trap his +victims. + +Peter pushed back for home on his bicycle, but stopped at the docks on +his way to look up Pennell. That gentleman was bored, weary, and inclined +to be blasphemous. It appeared that for the whole, infernal day he had +had to watch the off-loading of motor-spares, that he had had no lunch, +and that he could not get away for a day next week if he tried. "It isn't +everyone can get a day off whenever he wants to, padre," he said. "In the +next war I shall be ..." Peter turned hard on his heel, and left him +complaining to the derricks. + +He was now all but cornered. There was nobody else he particularly cared +to ask unless it were Arnold, and he could not imagine Arnold and Julie +together. It appeared to him that fate was on his side; it only remained +to persuade Julie to come alone. He pedalled back to mess and dinner, and +then, about half-past eight, strolled round to the hospital again. It was +late, of course, but he was a padre, and the hospital padre, and +privileged. He knew exactly what to do, and that he was really as safe as +houses in doing it, and yet this intriguing by night made him +uncomfortable still. He told himself he was an ass to think so, but he +could not get rid of the sensation. + +Julie would be on duty till 9.30, and he could easily have a couple +of minutes' conversation with her in the ward. He followed the +railway-track, then, along the harbour, and went in under the great roof +of the empty station. On the far platform a hospital train was being made +ready for its return run, but, except for a few cleaners and orderlies, +the place was empty. + +An iron stairway led up from the platform to the wards above. He +ascended, and found himself on a landing with the door of the theatre +open before him. There was a light in it, and he caught the sound of +water; some pro. was cleaning up. He moved down the passage and +cautiously opened the door of the ward. + +It was shaded and still. Somewhere a man breathed heavily, and another +turned in his sleep. Just beyond the red glow of the stove, with the +empty armchairs in a circle before it, were screens from which came a +subdued light. He walked softly between the beds towards them, and looked +over the top. + +Inside was a little sanctum: a desk with a shaded reading-lamp, a chair, +a couch, a little table with flowers upon it and a glass and jug, and on +the floor by the couch a work-basket. Julie was at the desk writing in a +big official book, and he watched her for a moment unobserved. It was +almost as if he saw a different person from the girl he knew. She was at +work, and a certain hidden sadness showed clearly in her face. But the +little brown fringe of hair on her forehead and the dimpled chin were the +same.... + +"Good-evening," he whispered. + +She looked up quickly, with a start, and he noticed curiously how rapidly +the laughter came back to her face. "You did startle me, Solomon," she +said. "What is it?" + +"I want to speak to you a minute about Thursday," he said. "Can I come +in?" + +She got up and came round the screens. "Follow me," she said, "and don't +make a noise." + +She led him across the ward to the wide verandah, opening the door +carefully and leaving it open behind her, and then walked to the +balustrade and glanced down. The hospital ship had gone, and there was +no one visible on the wharf. The stars were hidden, and there was a +suggestion of mist on the harbour, through which the distant lights +seemed to flicker. + +"You're coming on, Solomon," she said mockingly. "Never tell me you'd +have dared to call on the hospital to see a nurse by night a few weeks +ago! Suppose matron came round? There is no dangerous case in my ward." + +"Not among the men, perhaps," said Peter mischievously. "But, look here, +about Thursday; Donovan can't go, nor Pennell, and I don't know anyone +else I want to ask." + +"Well, I'll see if I can raise a man. One or two of the doctors are +fairly decent, or I can get a convalescent out of the officers' +hospital." + +She had the lights behind her, and he could not see her face, but he knew +she was laughing at him, and it spurred him on. "Don't rag, Julie," he +said, "You know I want you to come alone." + +There was a perceptible pause. Then: "I can't cut Tommy," she said. + +"Not for once?" he urged. She turned away from him and looked down at the +water. It is curious how there come moments of apprehension in all our +lives when we want a thing, but know quite well we are mad to want it. +Julie looked into the future for a few seconds, and saw plainly, but +would not believe what she saw. + +When she turned back she had her old manner completely. "You're a dear +old thing," she said, "and I'll do it. But if it gets out that I gadded +about for a day with an officer, even though he is a padre, and that we +went miles out of town, there'll be some row, my boy. Quick now! I must +get back. What's the plan?" + +"Thanks awfully," said Peter. "It will be a rag. What time can you get +off?" + +"Oh, after breakfast easily--say eight-thirty." + +"Right. Well, take the tram-car to Harfleur--you know?--as far as it +goes. I'll be at the terminus with a car. What time must you be in?" + +"I can get late leave till ten, I think," she said. + +"Good! That gives us heaps of time. We'll lunch and tea in Caudebec, and +have some sandwiches for the road home." + +"And if the car breaks down?" + +"It won't," said Peter. "You're lucky in love, aren't you?" + +She did not laugh. "I don't know," she said. "Good-night." + +And then Peter had walked home, thinking of Hilda. And he had sat by the +sea, and come to the conclusion that he was a rotter, but in the web of +Fate and much to be pitied, which is like a man. And then he had played +auction till midnight and lost ten francs, and gone to bed concluding +that he was certainly unlucky--at cards. + +As Peter sat in his car at the Harfleur terminus that Thursday it must be +confessed that he was largely indifferent to the beauties of the Seine +Valley that he had professedly come to see. He was nervous, to begin +with, lest he should be recognised by anyone, and he was in one of his +troubled moods. But he had not long to wait. The tram came out, and he +threw away his cigarette and walked to meet the passengers. + +Julie looked very smart in the grey with its touch of scarlet, but she +was discontented with it. "If only I could put on a few glad rags," she +said as she climbed into the car, "this would be perfect. You men can't +know how a girl comes to hate uniform. It's not bad occasionally, but if +you have to wear it always it spoils chances. But I've got my new shoes +and silk stockings on," she added, sticking out a neat ankle, "and my +skirt is not vastly long, is it? Besides, underneath, if it's any +consolation to you, I've really pretty things. Uniform or not, I see no +reason why one should not feel joyful next the skin. What do you think?" + +Peter agreed heartily, and tucked a rug round her. "There's the more need +for this, then," he said. + +"Oh, I don't know: silk always makes me feel so comfortable that I can't +be cold. Isn't it a heavenly day? We are lucky, you know; it might have +been beastly. Lor', but I'm going to enjoy myself to-day, my dear! I warn +you. I've got to forget how Tommy looked when I put her off with excuses. +I felt positively mean." + +"What did she say?" asked Peter. + +"That she didn't mind at all, as she had got to write letters," said +Julie, "Solomon, Tommy's a damned good sort!... Give us a cigarette, and +don't look blue. We're right out of town." + +Peter got out his case. "Don't call me Solomon to-day," he said. + +Julie threw herself back in her corner and shrieked with laughter. The +French chauffeur glanced round and grimaced appreciatively, and Peter +felt a fool. "What am I to call you, then?" she demanded. "You are a +funny old thing, and now you look more of a Solomon than ever." + +"Call me Peter," he said. + +She looked at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm really +beginning to enjoy myself," she said. "But, look here, you mustn't begin +like this. How in the world do you think we shall end up if you do? +You'll have nothing left to say, and I shall be worn to a rag and a +temper warding off your sentimentality." + +"Julie," said Peter, "are you ever serious? I can't help it, you know, I +suppose because I am a parson, though I am such a rotten one." + +"Who says you're a rotten one?" + +"Everybody who tells the truth, and, besides, I know it. I feel an +absolute stummer when I go around the wards. I never can say a word to +the men." + +"They like you awfully. You know little Jimmy, that kiddie who came in +the other day who's always such a brick? Well, last night I went and sat +with him a bit because he was in such pain. I told him where I was going +to-day as a secret. What do you think he said about you?" + +"I don't want to know," said Peter hastily. + +"Well, you shall. He said if more parsons were like you, more men would +go to church. What do you make of that, old Solomon?" + +"It isn't true to start with. A few might come for a little, but they +would soon fall off. And if they didn't, they'd get no good. I don't know +what to say to them." + +Julie threw away her cigarette-stump. "One sees a lot of human nature in +hospitals, my boy," she said, "and it doesn't leave one with many +illusions. But from what I've seen, I should say nobody does much good by +talking." + +"You don't understand," said Peter. "Look here, I shouldn't call you +religious in a way at all Don't be angry. I don't _know_, but I don't +think so, and I don't think you can possibly know what I mean." + +"I used to do the flowers in church regularly at home," she said. "I +believe in God, though you think I don't." + +Peter sighed. "Let's change the subject," he said. "Have you seen any +more of that Australian chap lately?" + +"Rather! He's engaged to a girl I know, and I reckon I'm doing her a good +turn by sticking to him. He's a bit of a devil, you know, but I think I +can keep him off the French girls a bit." + +Peter looked at her curiously. "You know what he is, and you don't mind +then?" he said. + +"Good Lord, no!" she replied. "My dear boy, I know what men are. It isn't +in their nature to stick to one girl only. He loves Edie all right, and +he'll make her a good husband one day, if she isn't too particular and +inquisitive. If I were married, I'd give my husband absolute liberty--and +I'd expect it in return. But I shall never marry. There isn't a man who +can play fair. They'll take their own pleasures, but they are all as +jealous as possible. I've seen it hundreds of times." + +"You amaze me," said Peter. "Let's talk straight. Do you mean to say that +if you were married and your husband ran up to Paris for a fortnight, and +you knew exactly what he'd gone for, you wouldn't mind?" + +"No," she declared roundly. "I wouldn't. He'd come back all the more fond +of me, I'd know I'd be a fool to expect anything else." + +Peter stared at her. She was unlike anything he had ever seen. Her moral +standards, if she had any, he added mentally, were so different from his +own that he was absolutely floored. He thought grimly that alone in a +motor-car he had got among the multitude with a vengeance. "Have you +ever been in love?" he demanded. + +She laughed. "Solomon, you're the quaintest creature. Do you think I'd +tell you if I had been? You never ought to ask anyone that. But if you +want to know, I've been in love hundreds of times. It's a queer disease, +but not serious--at least, not if you don't take it too seriously." + +"You don't know what love is at all," he said. + +She faced him fairly and unashamed. "I do," she said, "It's an animal +passion for the purpose of populating the earth. And if you ask me, I +think it is rather a dirty trick on the part of God." + +"You don't mean that," he said, distressed. + +She laughed again merrily, and slipped her hand into his under the rug. +"Peter," she said--"there, am I not good? You aren't made to worry about +these things. I don't know that anyone is. We can't help ourselves, and +the best thing is to take our pleasures when we can find them. I suppose +you'll be shocked at me, but I'm not going to pretend. I wasn't built +that way. If this were a closed car I'd give you a kiss." + +"I don't want that sort of a kiss," he said. "That was what you gave me +the other night. I want...." + +"You don't know what you want, my dear, though you think you do. You +shouldn't be so serious. I'm sure I kiss very nicely--plenty of men think +so? anyway, and if there is nothing in that sort of kiss, why not kiss? +Is there a Commandment against it? I suppose our grandmothers thought so, +but we don't. Besides, I've been east of Suez, where there ain't no ten +Commandments. There's only one real rule left in life for most of us, +Peter, and that's this: 'Be a good pal, and don't worry.'" + +Peter sighed. "You and I were turned out differently, Julie," he said. +"But I like you awfully. You attract me so much that I don't know how to +express it. There's nothing mean about you, and nothing sham. And I +admire your pluck beyond words. It seems to me that you've looked life in +the face and laughed. Anybody can laugh at death, but very few of us at +life. I think I'm terrified of it. And that's the awful part about it +all, for I ought to know the secret, and I don't. I feel an absolute +hypocrite at times--when I take a service, for example. I talk about +things I don't understand in the least, even about God, and I begin +to think I know nothing about Him...." He broke off, utterly miserable. + +"Poor old boy," she said softly; "is it as bad as that?" + +He turned to her fiercely. "You darling!" he said, carried away by her +tone. "I believe I'd rather have you than--than God!" + +She did not move in her corner, nor did she smile now. "I wonder," she +said slowly. "Peter, it's you that hate shams, not I. It's you that are +brave, not I. I play with shams because I know they're shams, but I like +playing with them. But you are greater than I. You are not content with +playing. One of these days--oh, I don't know...." She broke off and +looked away. + +Peter gripped her hand tightly. "Don't, little girl," he said. "Let's +forget for to-day. Look at those primroses; they're the first I've seen. +Aren't they heavenly?" + +They ran into Caudebec in good time, and lunched at an hotel overlooking +the river, with great enthusiasm. To Peter it was utterly delicious to +have her by him. She was as gay as she could possibly be, and made fun +over everything. Sitting daintily before him, her daring, unconventional +talk carried him away. She chose the wine, and after _dèjeuner_ sat with +her elbows on the table, puffing at a cigarette, her brown eyes alight +with mischief, apparently without a thought for to-morrow. + +"Oh, I say," she said, "do look at that party in the corner. The old +Major's well away, and the girl'll have a job to keep him in hand, I +wonder where they're from? Rouen, perhaps; there was a car at the door. +What do you think of the girl?" + +Peter glanced back. "No better than she ought to be," he said. + +"No, I don't suppose so, but they are gay, these French girls. I don't +wonder men like them. And they have a hard time. I'd give them a leg up +any day if I could. I can't, though, so if ever you get a chance do it +for me, will you?" + +Peter assented. "Come on," he said. "Finish that glass if you think you +can, and let's get out." + +"Here's the best, then, I've done. What are we going to see?" + +For a couple of hours they wandered round the old town, with its narrow +streets and even fifteenth-century houses, whose backs actually leaned +over the swift little river that ran all but under the place to the +Seine. They penetrated through an old mill to its back premises, and +climbed precariously round the water-wheel to reach a little moss-grown +platform from which the few remaining massive stones of the Norman wall +and castle could still be seen. The old abbey kept them a good while, +Julie interested Peter enormously as they walked about its cool aisles, +and tried to make out the legends of its ancient glass. She had nothing +of that curious kind of shyness most people have in a church, and that he +would certainly have expected of her. She joked and laughed a little in +it--at a queer row of mutilated statues packed into a kind of chapel to +keep quiet out of the way till wanted, at the vivid red of the Red Sea +engulfing Pharaoh and all his host--but not in the least irreverently. He +recalled a saying of a book he had once read in which a Roman Catholic +priest had defended the homeliness of an Italian congregation by saying +that it was right for them to be at home in their Father's House. It +was almost as if Julie were at home, yet he shrank from the inference. + +She was entirely ignorant of everything, except perhaps, of a little +biblical history, but she made a most interested audience. Once he +thought she was perhaps egging him on for his own pleasure, but when he +grew more silent she urged him to explain. "It's ripping going round with +somebody who knows something," she said. "Most of the men one meets know +absolutely nothing. They're very jolly, but one gets tired. I could +listen to you for ages." + +Peter assured her that he was almost as ignorant as they, but she was +shrewdly insistent. "You read more, and you understand what you read," +she said. "Most people don't. I know." + +They bought picture post-cards off a queer old woman in a peasant +head-dress, and then came back to the river and sat under the shade of +a line of great trees to wait for the tea the hotel had guaranteed them. +Julie now did all the talking--of South Africa, of gay adventures in +France and on the voyage, and of the men she had met. She was as frank +as possible, but Peter wondered how far he was getting to know the real +girl. + +Tea was an unusual success for France. It was real tea, but then there +was reason for that, for Julie had insisted on going into the big +kitchen, to madame's amusement and monsieur's open admiration, and making +it herself. But the chocolate cakes, the white bread and proper butter, +and the cream, were a miracle. Peter wondered if you could get such +things in England now, and Julie gaily told him that the French made laws +only to break them, with several instances thereof. She declared that if +a food-ration officer existed in Caudebec he must be in love with the +landlady's daughter and that she only wished she could get to know such +an official in Havre. The daughter in question waited on them, and Julie +and she chummed up immensely. Finally she was despatched to produce a +collection of Army badges and buttons--scalps Julie called them. When +they came they turned them over. All ranks were represented, or nearly +so, and most regiments that either could remember. There were Canadian, +Australian, and South African badges, and at last Julie declared that +only one was wanting. + +"What will you give for this officer's badge?" she demanded, seizing hold +of one of Peter's Maltese crosses. + +The girl looked at it curiously. "What is it?" she said. + +"It's the badge of the Sacred Legion," said Julie gravely. "You know +Malta? Well, that's part of the British Empire, of course, and the +English used to have a regiment there to defend it from the Turks. It was +a great honour to join, and so it was called the Sacred Legion. This +officer is a Captain in it." + +"Shut up Julie," said Peter, _sotto voce_. + +But nothing would stop her. "Come now," she said. "What will you give? +You'll give her one for a kiss, won't you, Solomon?" + +The girl laughed and blushed "Not before mademoiselle," she said, looking +at Peter. + +"Oh, I'm off," cried Julie, "I'll spare you one, but only one, remember." +and she deliberately got up and left them. + +Mademoiselle was "tres jolie," said the girl, collecting her badges. +Peter detached a cross and gave it her, and she demurely put up her +mouth. He kissed her lightly, and walked leisurely out to settle the bill +and call the car. He had entirely forgotten his depression, and the world +seemed good to him. He hummed a little song by the water's edge as he +waited, and thought over the day. He could never remember having had such +a one in his life. Then he recollected that one badge was gone, and he +abstracted the other. Without his badges he would not be known as a +chaplain. + +When Julie appeared, she made no remark, as he had half-expected. They +got in, and started off back in the cooling evening. Near Tancarville +they stopped the car to have the hood put up, and strolled up into the +grounds of the old castle while they waited. + +"Extraordinary it must have been to have lived in a place like this," +said Peter. + +"Rather," said Julie, "and beyond words awful to the women. I cannot +imagine what they must have been like, but I think they must have been +something like native African women." + +"Why?" queried Peter. + +"Oh, because a native woman never reads and hardly goes five miles from +her village. She is a human animal, who bears children and keeps the +house of her master, that's all. That's what these women must have done." + +"The Church produced some different types," said Peter; "but they had no +chance elsewhere, perhaps. Still, I expect they were as happy as we, +perhaps happier." + +"And their cows were happier still, I should think," laughed Julie. "No, +you can't persuade me. I wouldn't have been a woman in those days for the +world." + +"And now?" asked Peter. + +"Rather! We have much the best time on the whole. We can do what we like +pretty well. If we want to be men, we can. We can put on riding-breeches, +even, and run a farm. But if we like, we can wear glad rags and nice +undies, and be more women than ever." + +"And in the end thereof?" Peter couldn't help asking. + +"Oh," said Julie lightly, "one can settle down and have babies if one +wants to. And sit in a drawing-room and talk scandal as much as one +likes. Not that I shall do either, thank you. I shall--oh, I don't know +what I shall do. Solomon, you are at your worst. Pick me some of those +primroses, and let's be going. You never can tell: we may have to walk +home yet." + +Peter plucked a few of the early blooms, and she pushed them into her +waist-belt. Then they went back to the car, and got in again. + +"Cold?" he asked, after a little. + +"A bit," she said. "Tuck me up, and don't sit in that far corner all the +time. You make me feel chilly to look at you. I hate sentimental people, +but if you tried hard and were nice I could work up quite a lot of +sentiment just now." + +He laughed, and tucked her up as required. Then he lit a cigarette and +slipped his arm round her waist. "Is that better?" he said. + +"Much. But you can't have had much practice. Now tell me stories." + +Peter had a mind to tell her several, but he refrained, and they grew +silent, "Do you think we shall have another day like this?" he demanded, +after a little. + +"I don't see why not," she said. "But one never knows, does one? The +chances are we shan't. It's a queer old world." + +"Let's try, anyway; I've loved it," he said. + +"So have I," said Julie. "It's the best day I've had for a long time, +Peter. You're a nice person to go out with, you know, though I mustn't +flatter you too much. You should develop the gift; it's not everyone that +has it." + +"I've no wish to," he said. + +"You are an old bear," she laughed; "but you don't mean all you say, or +rather you do, for you will say what you mean. You shouldn't, Peter. It's +not done nowadays, and it gives one away. If you were like me, now, you +could say and do anything and nobody would mind. They'd never know what +you meant, and of course all the time you'd mean nothing." + +"So you mean nothing all the time?" he queried. + +"Of course," she said merrily. "What do you think?" + +That jarred Peter a little, so he said nothing and silence fell on them, +and at the Hôtel de Ville in the city he asked if she would mind +finishing alone. + +"Not a bit, old thing, if you want to go anywhere," she said. + +He apologised. "Arnold--he's our padre--is likely to be at the club, and +I promised I'd walk home with him," he lied remorselessly. "It's beastly +rude, I know, but I thought you'd understand." + +She looked at him, and laughed. "I believe I do," she said. + +He stopped the car and got out, settling with the man, and glancing up at +a clock. "You'll be in at nine-forty-five," he said, "as proper as +possible. And thank you so much for coming." + +"Thank you, Solomon," she replied. "It's been just topping. Thanks +awfully for taking me. And come in to tea soon, won't you?" He promised +and held out his hand. She pressed it, and waved out of the window as the +car drove off. And no sooner was it in motion than he cursed himself for +a fool. Yet he knew why he had done as he had, there, in the middle of +the town. He knew that he feared she would kiss him again--as before. + +Not noticing where he went, he set off through the streets, making, +unconsciously almost, for the sea, and the dark boulevards that led from +the gaily lit centre of the city towards it. He walked slowly, his mind a +chaos of thoughts, and so ran into a curious adventure. + +As he passed a side-street he heard a man's uneven steps on the pavement, +a girl's voice, a curse, and the sound of a fall. Then followed an +exclamation in another woman's voice, and a quick sentence in French. + +Peter hesitated a minute, and then turned down the road to where a small +group was faintly visible. As he reached it, he saw that a couple of +street girls were bending over a man who lay sprawling on the ground, and +he quickened his steps to a run. His boots were rubber-soled, and all but +noiseless. "Here, I say," he said as he came up. "Let that man alone. +What are you doing?" he added in halting French. One of the two girls +gave a little scream, but the other straightened herself, and Peter +perceived that he knew her. It was Louise, of Travalini's. + +"What are you doing?" he demanded again in English. "Is he hurt?" + +"Non, non, monsieur," said Louise. "He is but 'zig-zag.' We found him a +little way down the street, and he cannot walk easily. So we help him. If +the gendarme--how do you call him?--the red-cap, see him, maybe he will +get into trouble. But now you come. You will doubtless help him. +Vraiment, he is in luck. We go now, monsieur." + +Peter bent over the fallen man. He did not know him, but saw he was a +subaltern, though a middle-aged man. The fellow was very drunk, and did +little else than stutter curses in which the name of our Lord was +frequent. + +Peter pulled at his arm, and Louise stooped to help him. Once up, he got +his arm round him, and demanded where he lived. + +The man stared at them foolishly. Peter gave him a bit of a shake, and +demanded the address again, "Come on," he said. "Pull yourself together, +for the Lord's sake. We shall end before the A.P.M. if you don't. What's +your camp, you fool?" + +At that the man told him, stammeringly, and Peter sighed his relief. +"I know," he said to Louise. "It's not far. I'll maybe get a taxi at the +corner." She pushed him towards a doorway: "Wait a minute," she said. +"I live here; it's all right. I will get a fiacre. I know where to find +one." + +She darted away. It seemed long to Peter, but in a few minutes a horn +tooted and a cab came round the corner. Between them, they got the +subaltern in, and Peter gave the address. Then he pulled out his purse +before stepping in himself, opened it, found a ten-franc note, and +offered it to Louise. + +The girl of the street and the tavern pushed it away. "La!" she +exclaimed. "Vite! Get in. Bon Dieu! Should I be paid for a kindness? Poor +boy! he does not know what he does. He will 'ave a head--ah! terrible--in +the morning. And see, he has fought for la patrie." She pointed to a gold +wound-stripe on his arm. "Bon soir, monsieur." + +She stepped back and spoke quickly to the driver, who was watching +sardonically. He nodded. "Bon soir, monsieur," she said again, and +disappeared in the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +A few weeks later the War Office--if it was the War Office, but one gets +into the habit of attributing these things to the War Office--had one of +its regular spasms. It woke up suddenly with a touch of nightmare, and it +got fearfully busy for a few weeks before going to sleep again. All +manner of innocent people were dragged into the vortex of its activities, +and blameless lives were disturbed and terrorised. This particular +enthusiasm involved even such placid and contented souls as the +Chaplain-General, the Principal Chaplain, their entire staffs and a great +many of their rank and file. It created a new department, acquired many +additional offices for the B.E.F., dragged from their comfortable billets +a certain number of high-principled base officers, and then (by the mercy +of Providence) flickered out almost as soon as the said officers bad made +themselves a little more comfortable than before in their new posts. + +It was so widespread a disturbance that even Peter Graham, most harmless +of men, with plenty of his own fish to fry, was dragged into it, as some +leaf, floating placidly downstream, may be caught and whirled away in an +excited eddy. More definitely, it removed him from Havre and Julie just +when he was beginning to want most definitely to stay there, and of +course, when it happened, he could hardly know that it was to be but a +temporary separation. + +He was summoned, then, one fine morning, to his A.C.G.'s office in town, +and he departed on a bicycle, turning over in his mind such indiscretions +of which he had been guilty and wondering which of them was about to trip +him. Pennell had been confident, indeed, and particular. + +"You're for it, old bean," he had said. "There's a limit to the patience +even of the Church. They are going to say that there is no need for you +to visit hospitals after dark, and that their padres mustn't be seen out +with nurses who smoke in public. And all power to their elbow, I say." + +Peter's reply was certainly not in the Prayer-Book, and would probably +have scandalised its compilers, but he thought, secretly, that there +might be something in what his friend said. Consequently he rode his +bicycle carelessly, and was indifferent to tram-lines and some six inches +of nice sticky mud on parts of the _pavé_. In the ordinary course, +therefore, these things revenged themselves upon him. He came off neatly +and conveniently opposite a small _café debit_ at a turn in the dock +road, and the mud prevented the _pavé_ from seriously hurting him. + +A Frenchman, minding the cross-lines, picked him up, and he, madame, +her assistant, and a customer, carried him into the kitchen off the +bar and washed and dried him. The least he could do was a glass of +French beer all round, with a franc to the dock labourer who straightened +his handle-bars and tucked in a loose spoke, and for all this the War +Office--if it was the War Office, for it may, quite possibly, have been +Lord Northcliffe or Mr. Bottomley, or some other controller of our +national life--was directly responsible. When one thinks that in a +hundred places just such disturbances were in progress in ten times as +many innocent lives, one is appalled at their effrontery. They ought to +eat and drink more carefully, or take liver pills. + +However, in due time Peter sailed up to the office of his immediate chief +but little the worse for wear, and was ushered in. He was prepared for a +solitary interview, but he found a council of some two dozen persons, who +included an itinerant Bishop, an Oxford Professor, a few Y.M.C.A. ladies, +and--triumph of the A.C.G.--a Labour member. Peter could not conceive +that so great a weight of intellect could be involved in his affairs, and +took comfort. He seated himself on a wooden chair, and put on his most +intelligent appearance; and if it was slightly marred by a mud streak +at the back of his ear, overlooked by madame's kindly assistant who had +attended to that side of him, he was not really to blame. Again, it was +the fault of Lord Northcliffe or--or any of the rest of them. + +It transpired that he was slightly late: the Bishop had been speaking. He +was a good Bishop and eloquent, and, as the A.C.G. who now rose to take +the matter in hand remarked, he had struck the right note. In all +probability it was due to Peter's having missed that note that he was so +critical of the scheme. The note would have toned him up. He would have +felt a more generous sympathy for the lads in the field, and would have +been more definitely convinced that something must be done. If not +plainly stated in the Holy Scriptures, his lordship had at least found it +indicated there, but Peter was not aware of this. He only observed that +the note had made everyone solemn and intense except the Labour member. +That gentleman, indeed, interrupted the A.C.G. before he was fairly on +his legs with the remark: "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but as this is an +informal conference, does anyone mind if I smoke?"... + +Peter's A.C.G. was anything but a fool, and the nightmare from +Headquarters had genuinely communicated itself to him. He felt all he +said, and he said it ably. He lacked only in one regard: he had never +been down among the multitude. He knew exactly what would have to have +been in his own mind for him to act as he believed some of them were +acting, and he knew exactly how he would, in so deplorable a condition of +affairs, have set about remedying it. These things, then, he stated +boldly and clearly. As he proceeded, the Y.M.C.A. ladies got out +notebooks, the Professor allowed himself occasional applause, and the +Labour member lit another pipe. + +It appeared that there was extreme unrest and agitation among the troops, +or at least a section of the troops, for no one could say that the armies +in the field were not magnificent. They had got to remember that the +Tommy of to-day was not as the Tommy of yesterday--not that he suffered +by comparison, but that he was far better educated and far more inclined +to think for himself. They were well aware that a little knowledge was a +dangerous thing, or, again, as his friend the Bishop would have doubtless +put it, how great a matter a little fire kindleth. There was no escaping +it: foreign propaganda, certain undesirable books and papers--books and +papers, he need hardly say, outside the control of the reputable +Press--and even Socialistic agitators, were abroad in the Army. He did +not wish to say too much; it was enough to remind them of what, possibly, +they already knew, that certain depots on certain occasions had refused +to sing the National Anthem, and were not content with their wages. +Insignificant as these things might be in detail, G.H.Q. had felt there +was justifiable cause for alarm. This meeting had gathered to consider +plans for a remedy. + +Now he thanked God that they were not Prussians. There must be no attempt +at coercion. A war for liberty must be won by free people. One had, of +course, to have discipline in the Army, but theirs was to-day a citizen +Army. His friend who had left his parliamentary duties to visit France +might rest assured that the organizations represented there that morning +would not forget that. In a word, Tommy had a vote, and he was entitled +to it, and should keep it. One day he should even use it; and although no +one could wish to change horses crossing a stream, still, they hoped that +day would speedily come--the day of peace and victory. + +But meantime, what was to be done? As the Bishop had rightly said, +something must be done. Resolute on this point, H.Q. had called in the +C.G. and the P.C. and, he believed, expert opinion on both sides the +House of Commons; and the general opinion agreed upon was that Tommy +should be educated to vote correctly when the time came, and to wait +peacefully for that time. The Professor could tell them of schemes even +now in process of formation at home in order that the land they loved +might be cleaner, sweeter, better and happier, in the days to come. But +Tommy, meantime, did not know of these things. He was apparently under +the delusion that he must work out his own salvation, whereas, in point +of fact, it was being worked out for him scientifically and religiously. +If these things were clearly laid before him, H.Q. was convinced that +agitation, dissatisfaction, and even revolution--for there were those who +thought they were actually trending in that direction--would be nipped in +the bud. + +The scheme was simple and far-reaching. Lectures would be given all over +the areas occupied by British troops. Every base would be organised in +such a way that such lectures and even detailed courses of study should +be available for everyone. Every chaplain, hutworker, and social +entertainer must do his or her bit. They must know how to speak wisely +and well--not all in public, but, everyone as the occasion offered, +privately, in hut or camp, to inquiring and dissatisfied Tommies. They +would doubtless feel themselves insufficient for these things, but +study-circles were to be formed and literature obtained which would +completely furnish them with information. He would conclude by merely +laying on the table a bundle of the splendid papers and tracts already +prepared for this work. The Professor would now outline what was being +attempted at home, and then the meeting would be open for discussion. + +The Professor was given half an hour, and he made an excellent speech for +a cornered and academic theorist. The first ten minutes he devoted to +explaining that he could not explain in the time; in the second, +tempering the wind to the shorn lamb, he pointed out that it was no use +his outlining schemes not yet completed, or that they could read for +themselves, or that, possibly, without some groundwork, they could not +understand; and in the third ten minutes he outlined the committees +dealing with the work and containing such well-known names as Robert +Smiley, Mr. Button, and Clydens. He sat down. Everyone applauded--the +M.P., and possibly the A.C.G., because they honestly knew and respected +these gentlemen, and the rest because they felt they ought to do so. The +meeting was then opened for discussion. + +Peter took no part in what followed, and, indeed, nothing +over-illuminating was said save one remark, cast upon the waters by the +Labour member, which was destined to be found after many days. They were +talking of the lectures, and one of the ladies (Peter understood a Girton +lecturer) was apparently eager to begin without delay. The M.P. begged to +ask a question: Were there to be questions and a discussion? + +The A.C.G. glanced at a paper before him, and rose. He apologised for +omitting to mention it before, but H.Q. thought it would be subverse of +all discipline if, let us say, privates should be allowed to get up and +argue with the officers who might have addressed them. They all knew +what might be said in the heat of argument. Also, if he might venture to +say so, some of their lecturers, though primed with the right lecture, +might not be such experts that they could answer every question, and +plainly failure to satisfy a questioner might be disastrous. But +questions could be written and replies given at the next lecture. He +thought, smiling, that some of them would perhaps find that convenient. + +The M.P. leaned back in his chair. "Well, sir," he said, "I'm sorry to be +a wet-blanket, but if that is so, the scheme is wrecked from the start. +You don't know the men; I do. They're not going to line up, like the +pupils of Dotheboys Academy, for a spoonful of brimstone and treacle." + +The meeting was slightly scandalised. The chairman, however, rose to the +occasion. That, he said, was a matter for H.Q. They were there to do +their duty. And, being an able person, he did his. In ten minutes they +were formed into study-bands and were pledged to study, with which +conclusion the meeting adjourned. + +Peter was almost out of the door when he heard his name called, and +turning, saw the A.C.G. beckoning him. He went up to the table and shook +hands. + +"Do you know the Professor?" asked his superior. "Professor, this is Mr. +Graham." + +"How do you do?" said the man of science. "You are Graham of Balliol, +aren't you? You read Political Science and Economics a little at Oxford, +I think? You ought to be the very man for us, especially as you know how +to speak." + +Peter was confused, but, being human, a little flattered. He confessed to +the sins enumerated, and waited for more. + +"Well," said the A.C.G., "I've sent in your name already, Graham, and +they want you to go to Abbeville for a few weeks. A gathering is to be +made there of the more promising material, and you are to get down to the +work of making a syllabus, and so on. You will meet other officers from +all branches of the Service, and it should be interesting and useful. I +presume you will be willing to go? Of course it is entirely optional, but +I may say that the men who volunteer will not be forgotten." + +"Quite so," said the Professor. "They will render extremely valuable +service. I shall hope to be there part of the time myself." + +Peter thought quickly of a number of things, as one does at such a +moment. Some of them were serious things, and some quite frivolous--like +Julie. But he could hardly do otherwise than consent. He asked when he +should have to go. + +"In a few days. You'll have plenty of time to get ready. I should advise +you to write for some books, and begin to read up a little, for I expect +you are a bit rusty, like the rest of us. And I shall hope to have you +back lecturing in this Army area before long." + +So to speak, bowed out, Peter made his way home. In the Rue de Paris +Julie passed him, sitting with a couple of other nurses in an ambulance +motor-lorry, and she waved her hand to him. The incident served to +depress him still more, and he was a bit petulant as he entered the mess. +He flung his cap on the table, and threw himself into a chair. + +"Well," said Pennell, who was there, "on the peg all right?" + +"Don't be a fool!" said Peter sarcastically. "I'm wanted on the Staff. +Haig can't manage without me. I've got to leave this perishing suburb and +skip up to H.Q., and don't you forget it, old dear. I shall probably be a +Major-General before you get your third pip. Got that?" + +Pennell took his pipe from his mouth. "What's in the wind now?" he +demanded. + +"Well, you might not have noticed it, but I'm a political and economic +expert, and Haig's fed up that you boys don't tumble to the wisdom of the +centuries as you ought. Consequently I've got to instruct you. I'm going +to waltz around in a motor-car, probably with tabs up, and lecture. And +there aren't to be any questions asked, for that's subversive of +discipline." + +"Good Lord, man, do talk sense! What in the world do you mean?" + +"I mean jolly well what I say, if you want to know, or something precious +like it. The blinking Army's got dry-rot and revolutionary fever, and we +may all be murdered in our little beds unless I put a shoulder to the +wheel. That's a bit mixed, but it'll stand. I shall be churning out this +thing by the yard in a little." + +"Any extra pay?" demanded Pennell anxiously. "I can lecture on +engineering, and would do for an extra sixpence. Whisky's going up, and +I haven't paid my last mess bill." + +"You haven't, old son," said Arnold, coming in, "and you've jolly well +got to. Here's a letter for you, Graham." + +Peter glanced at the envelope and tore it open. Pennell knocked his pipe +out with feigned dejection. "The fellow makes me sick, padre," he said. +"He gets billets-doux every hour of the blessed day." + +Peter jumped up excitedly. "This is better," he said. "It's a letter from +Langton at Rouen, a chap I met there who writes occasionally. He's been +hauled in for this stunt himself, and is to go to Abbeville as well. By +Jove, I'll go up with him if I can. Give me some paper, somebody. I'll +have to write to him at once, or we'll boss it." + +"And make a will, and write to a dozen girls, I should think," said +Pennell. "I don't know what the blooming Army's coming to. Might as well +chuck it and have peace, I think. But meantime I've got to leave you +blighted slackers to gad about the place, and go and do an honest day's +work. _I_ don't get Staff jobs and red tabs. No; I help win the ruddy +war, that's all. See you before you go, Graham, I suppose? They'll likely +run the show for a day or two more without you. There'll be time for you +to stand a dinner on the strength of it yet." + +A week later Peter met Langton by appointment in the Rouen club, the two +of them being booked to travel that evening via Amiens to Abbeville. His +tall friend was drinking a whisky-and-soda in the smoke-room and talking +with a somewhat bored expression to no less a person than Jenks of the +A.S.C. + +Peter greeted them. "Hullo!" he said to the latter. "Fancy meeting you +here again. Don't say you're going to lecture as well?" + +"The good God preserve us!" exclaimed Jenks blasphemously. "But I am off +in your train to Boulogne. Been transferred to our show there, and +between ourselves, I'm not sorry to go. It's a decent hole in some ways, +Boulogne, and it's time I got out of Rouen. You're a lucky man, padre, +not to be led into temptation by every damned girl you meet. I don't know +what they see in me," he continued mournfully, "and, at this hour of the +afternoon, I don't know what I see in them." + +"Nor do I," said Langton. "Have a drink, Graham? There'll be no getting +anything on the ruddy train. We leave at six-thirty, and get in somewhere +about four a.m. next morning, so far as I can make out." + +"You don't sound over-cheerful," said Graham. + +"I'm not. I'm fed up over this damned lecture stunt! The thing's +condemned to failure from the start, and at any rate it's no time for it. +Fritz means more by this push than the idiots about here allow. He may +not get through; but, on the other hand, he may. If he does, it's UP with +us all. And here we are to go lecturing on economics and industrial +problems while the damned house is on fire!" + +Peter took his drink and sat down. "What's your particular subject?" he +asked. + +"The Empire. Colonies. South Africa. Canada. And why? Because I took a +degree in History in Cambridge, and have done surveying on the C.P.R. +Lor'! Finish that drink and have another." + +They went together to the station, and got a first to themselves, in +which they were fortunate. They spread their kit about the place, +suborned an official to warn everyone else off, and then Peter and +Langton strolled up and down the platform for half an hour, as the +train was not now to start till seven. Somebody told them there was +a row on up the line, though it was not plain how that would affect +them. Jenks departed on business of his own. A girl lived somewhere +in the neighbourhood. + +"How're you getting on now, padre?" asked Langton. + +"I'm not getting on," said Peter. "I'm doing my job as best I can, and +I'm seeing all there is to see, but I'm more in a fog than ever. I've got +a hospital at Havre, and I distribute cigarettes and the news of the day. +That's about all. I get on all right with the men socially, and now and +again I meet a keen Nonconformist who wants me to pray with him, or an +Anglican who wants Holy Communion, but not many. When I preach I rebuke +vice, as the Apostle says, but I'm hanged if I really know why." + +Langton laughed. "That's a little humorous, padre," he said. "What about +the Ten Commandments?" + +Peter thought of Julie. He kicked a stone viciously. "Commandments are no +use," he said--"not out here." + +"Nor anywhere," said Langton, "nor ever, I think, too. Why do you suppose +I keep moderately moral? Chiefly because I fear natural consequences and +have a wife and kiddies that I love. Why does Jenks do the opposite? +Because he's more of a fool or less of a coward, and chiefly loves +himself. That's all, and that's all there is in it for most of us." + +"You don't fear God at all, then?" demanded Peter. + +"Oh that I knew where I might find him!" quoted Langton. "I don't believe +He thundered on Sinai, at any rate." + +"Nor spoke in the Sermon on the Mount?" + +"Ah, I'm not so sure but it seems to me that He said too much or He +said too little there, Graham. One can't help 'looking on' a woman +occasionally. And in any case it doesn't seem to me that the Sermon is +anything like the Commandments. Brotherly love is behind the first, fear +of a tribal God behind the second. So far as I can see, Christ's creed +was to love and to go on loving and never to despair of love. Love, +according to Him, was stronger than hate, or commandments or preaching, +or the devil himself. If He saved souls at all, He saved them by loving +them whatever they were, and I reckon He meant us to do the same. What do +you make of the woman taken in adultery, and the woman who wiped His feet +with her hair? Or of Peter? or of Judas? He saved Peter by loving him +when he thought he ought to have the Ten Commandments and hell fire +thrown at his head and I reckon He'd have saved Judas by giving him that +sop-token of love if he hadn't had a soul that could love nothing but +himself." + +"What is love, Langton?" asked Peter, after a pause. + +The other looked at him curiously, and laughed. "Ask the Bishops," he +said. "Don't ask me. I don't know. Living with the woman to whom you're +married because you fear to leave her, or because you get on all right, +is not love at any rate. I can't see that marriage has got much to do +with it. It's a decent convention of society at this stage of development +perhaps, and it may sign and seal love for some people. But I reckon +love's love--a big positive thing that's bigger than sin, and bigger than +the devil. I reckon that if God sees that anywhere, He's satisfied. I +don't think Cranmer's marriage service affects Him much, nor the laws +of the State. If a man cares to do without either, he runs a risk, of +course. Society's hard on a woman, and man's meant to be a gregarious +creature. But that's all there is in it." + +"But how can you tell lust from love?" demanded Peter. + +"You can't, I think," said Langton. "Most men can't, anyway. Women may +do, but I don't know. I reckon that what they lust after mostly is babies +and a home. I don't think they know it any more than men know that what +they're after is the gratification of a passion; but there it is. We're +sewer rats crawling up a damned long drain, if you ask me, padre! I don't +know who said it, but it's true." + +They turned in their walk, and Peter looked out over the old town. In the +glow of sunset the thin iron modern spire of the cathedral had a grace +not its own, and the roofs below it showed strong and almost sentient. +One could imagine that the distant cathedral brooding over the city +heard, saw, and spoke, if in another language than the language of men. + +"If that were all, Langton," said Peter suddenly, "I'd shoot myself." + +"You're a queer fellow, Graham," said Langton. "I almost think you might. +I'd like to know what becomes of you, anyway. Forgive me--I don't mean to +be rude--but you may make a parson yet. But don't found a new religion +for Heaven's sake, and don't muddle up man-made laws and God-made +instincts--if they are God-made," he added. + +Peter said nothing, until they were waiting at the carriage-door for +Jenks. Then he said: "Then you think out here men have simply abandoned +conventions, and because there is no authority or fear or faith left to +them, they do as they please?" + +Langton settled himself in a corner. "Yes," he said, "that's right in a +way. But that's negatively. I'd go farther than that. Of course, there +are a lot of Judas Iscariots about for whom I shouldn't imagine the devil +himself has much time, though I suppose we ought not to judge 'em, but +there are also a lot of fine fellows--and fine women. They are men and +women, if I understand it, who have sloughed off the conventions, that +are conventions simply for convention's sake, and who are reaching out +towards the realities. Most of them haven't an idea what those are, but +dumbly they know. Tommy knows, for instance, who is a good chum and who +isn't; that is, he knows that sincerity and unselfishness and pluck are +realities. He doesn't care a damn if a chap drinks and swears and commits +what the Statute-Book and the Prayer-Book call fornication. And he +certainly doesn't think there is an ascending scale of sins, or at +any rate that you parsons have got the scale right." + +"I shouldn't be surprised if we haven't," said Peter. "The Bible lumps +liars and drunkards and murderers and adulterers and dogs--whatever that +may mean--into hell altogether." + +"That's so," said Langton, sticking a candle on the window-sill; "but I +reckon that's not so much because they lie or drink or murder or lust +or--or grin about the city like our friend Jenks, who'll likely miss the +boat for that very reason, but because of something else they all have in +common." + +"What's that?" demanded Peter. + +"I haven't the faintest idea," said Langton. + +At this moment the French guard, an R.T.O., and Jenks appeared in sight +simultaneously, the two former urging the latter along. He caught sight +of them, and waved. + +"Help him in," said the R.T.O., a jovial-looking subaltern, +genially--"and keep him there," he added under his voice. +"He's had all he can carry, and if he gets loose again he'll +be for the high jump. The wonder is he ever got back in +time." + +Peter helped him up. The subaltern glanced at his badges and smiled. +"He's in good company anyway, padre," he said. "If you're leaving the +ninety-and-nine in the wilderness, here's one to bring home rejoicing." +He slammed the door. "Right-o!" he said to the guard; "they're all aboard +now." The man comprehended the action, and waved a flag. The train +started after the manner of French trains told off for the use of British +soldiers, and Jenks collapsed on the seat. + +"Damned near thing that!" he said unsteadily; "might have missed the +bloody boat! I saw my little bit, though. She's a jolly good sort, she +is. Blasted strong stuff that French brandy, though! Whiskies at the club +first, yer know. Give us a hand, padre; I reckon I'll just lie down +a bit.... Jolly good sort of padre, eh, skipper? What?" + +Peter helped him into his place, and then came and sat at his feet, +opposite Langton, who smiled askance at him. "I'll read a bit," he said. +"Jenks won't trouble us further; he'll sleep it off. I know his sort. Got +a book, padre?" + +Peter said he had, but that he wouldn't read for a little, and he sat +still looking at the country as they jolted past in the dusk. After a +while Langton lit his candle, and contrived a wind-screen, for the centre +window was broken, of a newspaper. Peter watched him drowsily. He had +been up early and travelled already that day. The motion helped, too, and +in half an hour or so he was asleep. + +He dreamt that he was preaching Langton's views on the Sermon on the +Mount in the pulpit of St. John's, and that the Canon, from his place +beside the credence-table within the altar-rails, was shouting at him to +stop. In his dream he persisted, however, until that irate dignitary +seized the famous and massive offertory-dish by his side and hurled it +in the direction of the pulpit. The clatter that it made on the stone +floor awoke him. + +He was first aware that the train was no longer in motion, and next that +Langton's tall form was leaning half out of the window. Then confused +noises penetrated his consciousness, and he perceived that light +flickered in the otherwise darkened compartment. "Where are we?" he +demanded, now fully awake. "What's up?" + +Langton answered over his shoulder. "Some where outside of a biggish +town," he said; "and there's the devil of a strafe on. The whole +sky-line's lit up, but that may be twenty miles off. However, Fritz +must have advanced some." + +He was interrupted by a series of much louder explosions and the rattle +of machine-gun fire. "That's near," he said. "Over the town, I should +say--an air-raid, though it may be long-distance firing. Come and see for +yourself." + +He pulled himself back into the carriage, and Peter leaned out of the +window in his turn. It was as the other had said. Flares and sudden +flashes, that came and went more like summer-lightning than anything +else, lit up the whole sky-line, but nearer at hand a steady glow from +one or two places showed in the sky. One could distinguish flights of +illuminated tracer bullets, and now and again what he took to be Very +lights exposed the countryside. Peter saw that they were in a siding, the +banks of which reached just above the top of the compartments. It was +only by craning that he could see fields and what looked like a house +beyond. Men were leaning out of all the windows, mostly in silence. In +the compartment next them a man cursed the Huns for spoiling his beauty +sleep. It was slightly overdone, Peter thought. + +"Good God!" said, his companion behind him. "Listen!" + +It was difficult, but between the louder explosions Peter concentrated +his senses on listening. In a minute he heard something new, a faint buzz +in the air. + +"Aeroplanes," said Langton coolly. "I hope they don't spot us. Let me +see. Maybe it's our planes." He craned out in Peter's place. "I can't see +anything," he said, "and you can hear they're flying high." + +Down the train everyone was staring upwards now. "Christ!" exclaimed +Langton suddenly, "some fool's lighting a pipe! Put that match out +there," he called. + +Other voices took him up. "That's better," he said in a minute. "Forgive +my swearing, padre, but a match might give us away." + +Peter was silent, and, truth to tell, terrified. He tried hard not to +feel it, and glanced at Jenks. He was still asleep, and breathing +heavily. He pressed his face against the pane, and tried to stare up too. + +"They're coming," said Langton suddenly and quickly. "There they are, +too--Hun planes. They may not see us, of course, but they may...." He +brought his head in again and sat down. + +"Is there anything we can do?" said Peter. + +"Nothing," said Langton, "unless you like to get under the seat. But +that's no real good. It's on the knees of the gods, padre, whatever gods +there be." + +Just then Peter saw one. Sailing obliquely towards them and lit by the +light of a flare, the plane looked serene and beautiful. He watched it, +fascinated. + +"It's very low--two hundred feet, I should say," said Langton behind him. +"Hope he's no pills left. I wonder whether there's another. Let's have a +look the other side." + +He had scarcely got up to cross the compartment when the rattle of a +machine-gun very near broke out. "Our fellows, likely," he exclaimed +excitedly, struggling with the sash, but they knew the truth almost as he +spoke. + +Langton ducked back. A plane on the other side was deliberately flying up +the train, machine-gunning. "Down, padre, for God's sake!" he exclaimed, +and threw himself on the floor. + +Peter couldn't move. He heard the splintering of glass and a rending of +woodwork, some oaths, and a sudden cry. The whirr of an engine filled his +ears and seemed, as it were, on top of them. Then there was a crash all +but at his side, and next instant a half-smothered groan and a dreadful +gasp for breath. + +He couldn't speak. He heard Langton say, "Hit, anyone?" and then Jenks' +"They've got me, skipper," in a muffled whisper, and he noticed that the +hard breathing had ceased. At that he found strength and voice and jumped +up. He bent over Jenks. "Where have you got it, old man?" he said, and +hardly realised that it was himself speaking. + +The other was lying just as before, on his back, but he had pulled his +knees up convulsively and a rug had slipped off. In a flare Peter saw +beads of sweat on his forehead and a white, twisted face. + +He choked back panic and knelt down. He had imagined it all before, and +yet not quite like this. He knew what he ought to say, but for a minute +he could not formulate it. "Where are you hit, Jenks?" was all he said. + +The other turned his head a little and looked at him. "Body--lungs, I +think," he whispered. "I'm done, padre; I've seen chaps before." + +The words trailed off. Peter gripped himself mentally, and steadied his +voice. "Jenks, old man," he said. "Just a minute. Think about God--you +are going to Him, you know. Trust Him, will you? 'The blood of Jesus +Christ, God's Son, saveth us from all sin.'" + +The dying man, moved his hand convulsively. "Don't you worry, padre," he +said faintly; "I've been--confirmed." The lips tightened a second with +pain, and then: "Reckon I won't--shirk. Have you--got--a cigarette?" + +Peter felt quickly for his case, fumbled and dropped one, then got +another into his fingers. He hesitated a second, and then, put it to his +own lips, struck a match, and puffed at it. He was in the act of holding +it to the other when Langton spoke behind him: + +"It's no good now, padre," he said quietly; "it's all over." + +And Peter saw that it was. + +The planes did not come back. The officer in charge of the train came +down it with a lantern, and looked in. "That makes three," he said. "We +can do nothing now, but we'll be in the station in a bit. Don't show any +lights; they may come back. Where the hell were our machines, I'd like to +know?" + +He went on, and Peter sat down in his corner. Langton picked up the rug, +and covered up the body. Then he glanced at Peter. "Here," he said, +holding out a flask, "have some of this." + +Peter shook his head. Langton came over to him. "You must," he said; +"it'll pull you together. Don't go under now, Graham. You kept your nerve +just now--come on." + +At that Peter took it, and drained the little cup the other poured out +for him. Then he handed it back, without a word. + +"Feel better?" queried the other, a trifle curiously, staring at him. + +"Yes, thanks," said Peter--"a damned sight better! Poor old Jenks! What +blasted luck that he should have got it!... Langton, I wish to God it had +been me!" + + + + +PART II + +"And the Lord turned and looked upon Peter." + +ST. LUKE'S GOSPEL. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The charm of the little towns of Northern France is very difficult to +imprison on paper. It is not exactly that they are old, although there is +scarcely one which has not a church or a château or a quaint medieval +street worth coming far to see; nor that they are particularly +picturesque, for the ground is fairly flat, and they are all but always +set among the fields, since it is by agriculture far more than by +manufacture that they live. But they are clean and cheerful; one thinks +of them under the sun; and they are very homely. In them the folk smile +simply at you, but not inquisitively as in England, for each bustles +gaily about his own affairs, and will let you do what you please, with a +shrug of the shoulders. Abbeville is very typical of all this. It has its +church, and from the bridge over the Somme the backs of ancient houses +can be seen leaning half over the river, which has sung beneath them for +five hundred years; and it is set in the midst of memories of stirring +days. Yet it is not for these that one would revisit the little town, but +rather that one might walk by the still canal under the high trees in +spring, or loiter in the market-place round what the Hun has left of the +statue of the famous Admiral with his attendant nymphs, or wander down +the winding streets that skirt the ancient church and give glimpses of +its unfinished tower. + +Peter found it very good to be there in the days that followed the death +of Jenks. True, it was now nearer to the seat of war than it had been for +years, and air-raids began to be common, but in a sense the sound of the +guns fitted in with his mood. So great a battle was being fought within +him that the world could not in any case have seemed wholly at peace, and +yet in the quiet fields, or sauntering of an afternoon by the river, he +found it easier than at Havre to think. Langton was almost his sole +companion, and a considerable intimacy had grown up between them. Peter +found that his friend seemed to understand a great deal of his thoughts +without explanation. He neither condoled nor exhorted; rather he watched +with an almost shy interest the other's inward battle. + +They lodged at the Hôtel de l'Angleterre, that hostelry in the street +that leads up and out of the town towards Saint Riquier, which you +enter from a courtyard that opens on the road and has rooms that you +reach by means of narrow, rickety flights of stairs and balconies +overhanging the court. The big dining-room wore an air of gloomy +festivity. Its chandeliers swathed in brown paper, its faded paint, and +its covered upholstery, suggested that it awaited a day yet to be when it +should blossom forth once more in glory as in the days of old. Till then +it was as merry as it could be. Its little tables filled up of an evening +with the new cosmopolitan population of the town, and old Jacques bustled +round with the good wine, and dropped no hint that the choice brands were +nearly at an end in the cellar. + +Peter and Langton would have their war-time apology for _petit déjeuner_ +in bed or alone. Peter, as a rule, was up early, and used to wander out a +little and sometimes into church, coming back to coffee as good as ever, +but war-time bread instead of rolls on a small table under a low balcony +in the courtyard if it were fine. He would linger over it, and have +chance conversation with passing strangers of all sorts, from clerical +personages belonging to the Church Army or the Y.M.C.A. to officers who +came and went usually on unrevealed affairs. Then Langton would come +down, and they would stroll round to the newly-fitted-up office which had +been prepared for the lecture campaign and glance at maps of districts, +and exchange news with the officer in charge, who, having done all he +could, had now nothing to do but stand by and wait for the next move from +a War Office that had either forgotten his existence or discovered some +hitch in its plans. They had a couple of lectures from people who were +alleged to know all about such topics as the food shortage at home or the +new plans for housing, but who invariably turned out to be waiting +themselves for the precise information that was necessary for successful +lectures. After such they would stroll out through the town into the +fields, and Langton would criticise the thing in lurid but humorous +language, and they would come back to the club and sit or read till +lunch. + +The club was one of the best in France, it was an old house with lovely +furniture, and not too much of it, which stood well back from the street +and boasted an old-fashioned garden of shady trees and spring flowers and +green lawns. Peter could both read and write in its rooms, and it was +there that he finally wrote to Hilda, but not until after much thought. + +After his day with Julie at Caudebec one might have supposed that there +was nothing left for him to do but break off his engagement to Hilda. But +it did not strike him so. For one thing, he was not engaged to Julie or +anything like it, and he could not imagine such a situation, even if +Julie had not positively repudiated any desire to be either engaged or +married. He had certainly declared, in a fit of enthusiasm, that he loved +her, but he had not asked if she loved him. He had seen her since, but +although they were very good friends, nothing more exciting had passed +between them. Peter was conscious that when he was with Julie she +fascinated him, but that when he was away--ah! that was it, when he was +away? It certainly was not that Hilda came back and took her place; it +was rather that the other things in his mind dominated him. It was a +curious state of affairs. He was less like an orthodox parson than he had +ever been, and yet he had never thought so much about religion. He +agonised over it now. At times his thoughts were almost more than he +could bear. + +It came, then, to this, that he had not so much changed towards Hilda as +changed towards life. Whether he had really fundamentally changed in such +a way that a break with the old was inevitable he did not know. Till then +Hilda was part of the old, and if he went back to it she naturally took +her old place in it. If he did not--well, there he invariably came to the +end of thought. Curiously enough, it was when faced with a mental blank +that Julie's image began to rise in his mind. If he admitted her, he +found himself abandoning himself to her. He felt sometimes that if he +could but take her in his arms he could let the world go by, and God with +it. Her kisses were at least a reality. There was neither convention nor +subterfuge nor divided allegiance there. She was passion, naked and +unashamed, and at least real. + +And then he would remember that much of this was problematical after all, +for they had never kissed as that passion demanded, or at least that he +had never so kissed her. He was not sure of the first. He knew that he +did not understand Julie, but he felt, if he did kiss her, it would be a +kiss of surrender, of finality. He feared to look beyond that, and he +could not if he would. + +He wrote, then, to Hilda, and he told of the death of Jenks, and of their +arrival in Abbeville, "You must understand, dear," he said, "that all +this has had a tremendous effect upon me. In that train all that I had +begun to feel about the uselessness of my old religion came to a head. I +could do no more for that soul than light a cigarette.... Possibly no one +could have done any more, but I cannot, I will not believe it. Jenks was +not fundamentally evil, or at least I don't think so. He was rather a +selfish fool who had no control, that is all. He did not serve the devil; +it was much more that he had never seen any master to serve. And I could +do nothing. I had no master to show him. + +"You may say that that is absurd: that Christ is my Master, and I could +have shown Him. Hilda, so He is: I cling passionately to that. But +listen: I can't express Him, I don't understand Him. I no longer feel +that He was animating and ordering the form of religion I administered. +It is not that I feel Anglicanism to be untrue, and something else--say +Wesleyanism--to be true; it is much more that I feel them all to be out +of touch with reality. _That's_ it. I don't think you can possibly see +it, but that is the main trouble. + +"That, too, brings me to my next point, and this I find harder still to +express. I want you to realise that I feel as if I had never seen life +before. I feel as if I had been shown all my days a certain number of +pictures and told that they were the real thing, or given certain +descriptions and told that they were true. I had always accepted that +they were. But, Hilda, they are not. Wickedness is not wicked in the way +that I was told it was wicked, and what I was told was salvation is not +the salvation men and women want. I have been playing in a fool's +paradise all these years, and I've got outside the gate. I am distressed +and terrified, I think, but underneath it all I am very glad.... + +"You will say, 'What are you going to do?' and I can only reply, I don't +know. I'm not going to make any vast change, if you mean that. A padre I +am, and a padre I shall stay for the war at least, and none of us can see +beyond that at present. But what I do mean to do is just this: I mean to +try and get down to reality myself and try to weigh it up. I am going to +eat and drink with publicans and sinners; maybe I shall find my Master +still there." + +Peter stopped and looked up. Langton was stretched out in a chair beside +him, reading a novel, a pipe in his mouth. Moved by an impulse, he +interrupted him. + +"Old man," he said, "I want you to let me read you a bit of this letter. +It's to my girl, but there's nothing rotten in reading it. May I?" + +Langton did not move. "Carry on," he said shortly. + +Peter finished and put down the sheet. The other smoked placidly and said +nothing. "Well?" demanded Peter impatiently. + +"I should cut out that last sentence," pronounced the judge. + +"Why? It's true." + +"Maybe, but it isn't pretty." + +"Langton," burst out Peter, "I'm sick of prettinesses! I've been stuffed +up with them all my life, and so has she. I want to break with them." + +"Very likely, and I don't say that it won't be the best thing for you to +try for a little to do so, but she hasn't been where you've been or seen +what you've seen. You can't expect her wholly to understand. And more +than that, maybe she is meant for prettinesses. After all, they're +pretty." + +Peter stabbed the blotting-paper with his pen. "Then she isn't meant for +me," he said. + +"I'm not so sure," said Langton. "I don't know that you've stuff enough +in you to get on without those same prettinesses yourself. Most of us +haven't. And at any rate I wouldn't burn my boats yet awhile. You may +want to escape yet." + +Peter considered this in silence. Then he drew the sheets to him and +added a few more words, folded the paper, put it in the envelope, and +stuck it down. "Come on," he said, "let's go and post this and have a +walk." + +Langton got up and looked at him curiously, as he sometimes did. "Peter," +he said, "you're a weird blighter, but there's something damned gritty in +you. You take life too strenuously. Why can't you saunter through it like +I do?" + +Peter reached for this cap. "Come on," he said again, "and don't talk +rot." + +Out in the street, they strolled aimlessly on, more or less in silence. +The big book-shop at the corner detained them for a little, and they +regarded its variegated contents through the glass. It contained a few +good prints, and many more poorly executed coloured pictures of ruined +places in France and Belgium, of which a few, however, were not bad. +Cheek by jowl with some religious works, a statue of Notre Dame d'Albert, +and some more of Jeanne d'Arc, were a line of pornographic novels and +beyond packets of picture post-cards entitled _Théâtreuses, Le Bain de la +Parisienne, Les Seins des Marbre_, and so on. Then Langton drew Graham's +attention to one or two other books, one of which had a gaudy cover +representing a mistress with a birch-rod in her hands and a number of +canes hung up beside her, while a girl of fifteen or so, with very red +cheeks, was apparently about to be whipped. "Good Lord," said Langton, +"the French are beyond me. This window is a study for you, Graham, in +itself. I should take it that it means that there is nothing real in +life. It is utterly cynical. + +"'And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, +End in what All begins and ends in--Yes; +Think then you are To-day what Yesterday +You were--To-morrow you shall not be less,'" + +he quoted. + +"Yes," said Peter. "Or else it means that there are only two realities, +and that the excellent person who keeps this establishment regards both +in a detached way, and conceives it her business to cater for each. Let's +go on." + +They turned the corner, and presently found themselves outside the famous +carven door of the church. "Have you ever been round?" asked Peter. + +"No," said Langton; "let's go in." + +They passed through the door into the old church, which, in contrast to +that at Le Havre, was bathed in the daylight that streamed through many +clear windows. Together they wandered round it, saying little. They +inspected an eighteenth-century statue of St. Roch, who was pulling up +his robe to expose a wound and looking upwards at the same time +seraphically--or, at least, after the manner that the artist of that age +had regarded as seraphic. A number of white ribbons and some wax figures +of feet and hands and other parts of the body were tied to him. They +stood before a wonderful coloured alabaster reredos of the fourteenth +century, in which shepherds and kings and beasts came to worship at the +manger. They had a little conversation as to the architectural periods of +the nave, choir, and transepts, and Langton was enthusiastic over a noble +pillar and arch. Beyond they gazed in silence at a statue of Our Lady +Immaculate in modern coloured plaster, so arranged that the daylight +fell through an unseen opening upon her. Among the objects in front were +a pair of Renaissance candlesticks of great beauty. A French officer came +up and arranged and lit a votive candle as they watched, and then went +back to stand in silence by a pillar. The church door banged and two +peasants came in, one obviously from the market, with a huge basket of +carrots and cabbages and some long, thin French loaves. She deposited +this just inside the door, took holy water, clattered up towards the high +altar, dropped a curtsy, and made her way to an altar of the Sacred +Heart, at which she knelt. Peter sighed. "Come on," he said; "let's +get out." + +Langton marched on before him, and held the door back as they stepped +into the street. "Well, philosopher," he demanded, "what do you make of +that?" + +Peter smiled. "What do you?" he said. + +"Well," said Langton, "it leaves me unmoved, except when I'm annoyed by +the way their wretched images spoil the church, but it is plain that they +like it. I should say one of your two realities is there. But I find it +hard to forgive the bad art." + +"Do you?" said Peter, "I don't. It reminds me of those appalling +enlargements of family groups that you see, for example, in any Yorkshire +cottage. They are unutterably hideous, but they stand for a real thing +that is honest and beautiful--the love of home and family. And by the +same token, when the photographs got exchanged, as they do in Mayfair, +for modern French pictures of nude women, or some incredible Futurist +extravagance, that love has usually flown out of the window." + +"Humph!" said Langton--"not always. Besides, why can't a family group be +made artistically, and so keep both art and love? I should think we ought +to aim at that." + +"I suppose we ought," said Peter, "but in our age the two don't seem to +go together. Goodness alone knows why. Why, hullo!" he broke off. + +"What's up now?" demanded Langton. + +"Why, there, across the street, if that isn't a nurse I know from Havre, +I don't know who it is. Wait a tick." + +He crossed the road, and saw, as he got near, that it was indeed Julie. +He came up behind her as she examined a shop-window. "By all that's +wonderful, what are you doing here?" he asked. + +She turned quickly, her eyes dancing. "I wondered if I should meet you," +she said. "You see, your letter told me you were coming here, but I +haven't heard from you since you came, and I didn't know if you had +started your tour or not. _I_ came simply enough. There's a big South +African hospital here, and we had to send up a batch of men by motor. +As they knew I was from South Africa, they gave me the chance to come +with them." + +"Well, I _am_ glad," said Peter, devouring the sight of her. "Wait a +minute; I must introduce you to Langton. He and I are together, and he's +a jolly good chap." + +He turned and beckoned Langton, who came over and was introduced. They +walked up the street a little way together. "Where are you going now?" +asked Peter. + +"Back to the hospital," said Julie. "A car starts from the square at +twelve-forty-five, and I have to be in for lunch." + +"Have you much to do up there?" asked Peter. + +"Oh no," she said, "my job's done. I clear off the day after to-morrow. +We only got in last night, so I get a couple of days' holiday. What are +you doing? You don't look any too busy." + +Peter glanced across at Langton and laughed. "We aren't," he said. "The +whole stunt's a wash-out, if you ask me, and we're really expecting to be +sent back any day. There's too much doing now for lectures. Is the +hospital full?" + +"Packed," said Julie gravely. "The papers say we're falling back steadily +so as not to lose men, but the facts don't bear it out. We're crammed +out. It's ghastly; I've never known it so bad." + +Peter had hardly ever seen her grave before, and her face showed a new +aspect of her. He felt a glow of warmth steal over him. "I say," he said, +"couldn't you dine with us to-night? We're at the Angleterre, and its +tremendously respectable." + +She laughed, her gravity vanishing in a minute. "I must say," she said, +"that I'd love to see you anywhere really respectable. He's a terrible +person for a padre--don't you think so, Captain Langton?" + +"Terrible," said Langton. "But really the Angleterre is quite proper. You +don't get any too bad a dinner, either. Do come, Miss Gamelyn." + +She appeared to consider. "I might manage it," she said at last, stopping +just short of entering the square; "but I haven't the nerve to burst in +and ask for you. Nor will it do for you to see me all the way to that +car, or we shall have a dozen girls talking. If you will meet me +somewhere," she added, looking at Peter, "I'll risk it. I'll have a +headache and not go to first dinner; then the first will think I'm at the +second, and the second at the first. Besides, I've no duty, and the +hospital's not like Havre. It's all spread out in huts and tents, and +it's easy enough to get in. Last, but not least, it's Colonial, and the +matron is a brick. Yes, I'll come." + +"Hurrah!" said Peter. "I tell you what: I'll meet you at the +cross-roads below the hospital and bring you on. Will that do? What +time? Five-thirty?" + +"Heavens! do you dine at five-thirty?" demanded Julie. + +"Well, not quite, but we've got to get down," said Peter, laughing. + +"All right," said Julie, "five-thirty, and the saints preserve us. Look +here, I shall chance it and come in mufti if possible. No one knows me +here." + +"Splendid!" said Peter. "Good-bye, five-thirty." + +"Good-bye," said Langton; "we'll go and arrange our menu." + +"There must be champagne," called Julie merrily over her shoulder, and +catching his eye. + +The two men watched her make for the car across the sunlit square, then +they strolled round it towards a café. "Come on," said Langton; "let's +have an appetiser." + +From the little marble-topped table Peter watched the car drive away. +Julie was laughing over something with another girl. It seemed to +conclude the morning, somehow. He raised his glass and looked at Langton. +"Well," he said, "here's to reality, wherever it is." + +"And here's to getting along without too much of it," said Langton, +smiling at him. + + * * * * * + +The dinner was a great success--at least, in the beginning. Julie wore a +frock of some soft brown stuff, and Peter could hardly keep his eyes off +her. He had never seen her out of uniform before, and although she was +gay enough, she said and did nothing very exciting. If Hilda had been +there she need hardly have behaved differently, and for a while Peter was +wholly delighted. Then it began to dawn on him that she was playing up to +Langton, and that set in train irritating thoughts. He watched the other +jealously, and noticed how the girl drew him out to speak of his travels, +and how excellently he did it, leaning back at coffee with his cigarette, +polite, pleasant, attractive. Julie, who usually smoked cigarette after +cigarette furiously, only, however, getting through about half of each, +now refused a second, and glanced at the clock about 8.30. + +"Oh," she said, "I must go." + +Peter remonstrated. "If you can stay out later at Havre," he said, "why +not here?" + +She laughed lightly. "I'm reforming," she said, "in the absence of bad +companions. Besides, they are used to my being later at Havre, but here I +might be spotted, and then there would be trouble. Would you fetch my +coat, Captain Graham?" + +Peter went obediently, and they all three moved out into the court. + +"Come along and see her home, Langton," he said, though he hardly knew +why he included the other. + +"Thanks," said his friend; "but if Miss Gamelyn will excuse me, I ought +not. I've got some reading I must do for to-morrow, and I want to write a +letter or two as well. You'll be an admirable escort, Graham." + +"Good-night," said Julie, holding out her hand; "perhaps we shall meet +again some time. One is always running up against people in France. And +thank you so much for your share of the entertainment." + +In a few seconds Peter and she were outside. The street was much +darkened, and there was no moon. They walked in silence for a little. +Suddenly he stopped. "Wouldn't you like a cab?" he said; "we might be +able to get one." + +Julie laughed mischievously, and Peter gave a little start in the dark. +It struck him that this was the old laugh and that he had not heard it +that night before. "It's convenient, of course," she said mockingly. "Do +get one by all means. But last time I came home with you in a cab, you +let me finish alone. I thought that was to be an invariable rule." + +"Oh, don't Julie," said Peter. + +Her tone changed. "Why not?" she demanded. "Solomon, what's made you so +glum to-night? You were cheerful enough when you met me, and when we +began; then you got silent. What's the matter?" + +"Nothing," he said. + +She slipped her hand in his arm. "There is something," she said. "Do tell +me." + +"Do you like Langton?" he asked. + +"Oh, immensely--why? Oh, Lord, Solomon, what do you mean?" + +"You were different in his presence, Julie, from anything you've been +before." + +They took a few paces in silence; then Peter had an idea, and glanced at +her. She was laughing silently to herself. He let her hand fall from his +arm, and looked away. He knew he was behaving like an ass, but he could +not help it. + +She stopped suddenly. "Peter," she said, "I want to talk to you. Take me +somewhere where it's possible." + +"At this hour of the evening? What about being late?" + +She gave a little stamp with her foot, then laughed again. "What a boy it +is!" she said. "Don't you know anywhere to go?" + +Peter hesitated; then he made up his mind. There was an hotel he knew of, +out of the main street, of none too good a reputation. Some men had taken +Langton and him there, once, in the afternoon, between the hours in which +drinks were legally sold, and they had gone through the hall into a +little back-room that was apparently partly a sitting-room, partly part +of the private rooms of the landlord, and had been served there. He +recalled the description of one of the men: "It's a place to know. You +can always get a drink, and take in anyone you please." + +"Come on, then," he said, and turned down a back-street. + +"Where in the world are you taking me?" demanded Julie. "I shall have no +reputation left if this gets out." + +"Nor shall I," said Peter. + +"Nor you will; what a spree! Do you think it's worth it, Peter?" + +Under a shaded lamp they were passing at the moment, he glanced at her, +and his pulses raced! "Good God, Julie!" he said, "you could do anything +with me." + +She chuckled with laughter, her brown eyes dancing. "Maybe," she said, +"but I'm out to talk to you for your good now." + +They turned another corner, into an old street, and under an arch. Peter +walked forward to the hotel entrance, and entered. There was a woman in +the office, who glanced up, and looked, first at Peter, then at Julie. On +seeing her behind him, she came forward. "What can I do for monsieur?" +she asked. + +"Good-evening, madame," said Peter. "I was here the other day. Give us a +bottle of wine in that little room at the back, will you?" + +"Why, certainly, monsieur," said she. "Will madame follow me? It is this +way." + +She opened, the door, and switched on the light, "Shall I light the fire, +madame?" she demanded. + +Julie beamed on her. "Ah, yes; that would be jolly," she said. "And the +wine, madame--Beaune." + +The woman smiled and bowed. "Let madame but seat herself and it shall +come," she said, and went out. + +Julie took off her hat, and walked to the glass, patting her hair. "Give +me a cigarette, my dear," she said. "It was jolly hard only to smoke one +to-night." + +Peter opened and handed her his case in silence, then pulled up a big +chair. There was a knock at the door, and a girl came in with the wine +and glasses, which she set on the table, and, then knelt down to light +the fire. She withdrew and shut the door. They were alone. + +Peter was still standing. Julie glanced at him, and pointed to a chair +opposite. "Give me a drink, and then go and sit there," she said. + +He obeyed. She pulled her skirts up high to the blaze and pushed one foot +out to the logs, and sat there, provocative, sipping her wine and puffing +little puffs of smoke from her cigarette. "Now, then," she said, "what +did I do wrong to-night?" + +Peter was horribly uncomfortable. He felt how little he knew this girl, +and he felt also how much he loved her. + +"Nothing, dear," he said; "I was a beast." + +"Well," she said, "if you won't tell me, I'll tell you. I was quite +proper to-night, immensely and intensely proper, and you didn't like it. +You had never seen me so. You thought, too, that I was making up to your +friend. Isn't that so?" + +Peter nodded. He marvelled that she should know so well, and he wondered +what was coming. + +"I wonder what you really think of me, Peter," she went on. "I suppose +you think I never can be serious--no, I won't say serious--conventional. +But you're very stupid; we all of us can be, and must be sometimes. You +asked me just now what I thought of your friend--well, I'll tell you. +He is as different from you as possible. He has his thoughts, no doubt, +but he prefers to be very tidy. He takes refuge in the things you throw +overboard. He's not at all my sort, and he's not yours either, in a way. +Goodness knows what will happen to either of us, but he'll be Captain +Langton to the end of his days. I envy that sort of person intensely, +and when I meet him I put on armour. See?" + +Peter stared at her. "How is he different from Donovan?" he asked. + +"Donovan! Oh, Lord, Peter, how dull you are! Donovan has hardly a thought +in his head about anything except Donovan. He was born a jolly good sort, +and he's sampled pretty well everything. He's cool as a cucumber, though +he has his passions like everyone else. If you keep your head, you can +say or do anything with Donovan. But Langton is deliberate. He knows +about things, and he refuses and chooses. I didn't want ..." She broke +off. "Peter," she said savagely, "in two minutes that man would know more +about me than you do, if I let him." + +He had never seen her so. The childish brown eyes had a look in them that +reminded him of an animal caught in a trap. He sprang up and dropped on +his knees by her side, catching her hand. + +"Oh, Julie, don't," he said. "What do you mean? What is there about you +that I don't know? How are you different from either of them?" + +She threw her cigarette away, and ran her fingers through his hair, then +made a gesture, almost as if pushing something away, Peter thought, and +laughed her old ringing trill of laughter. + +"Lor', Peter, was I tragic? I didn't mean to be, my dear. There's a lot +about me that you don't know, but something that you've guessed. I can't +abide shams and conventions really. Let's have life, I say, whatever it +is. Heavens! I've seen street girls with more in them than I pretended to +your friend to have in me to-night. They at least deal with human nature +in the raw. But that's why I love you; there's no need to pretend to you, +partly because, at bottom, you like real things as much as I, and partly +because--oh, never mind." + +"Julie, I do mind--tell me," he insisted. + +Her face changed again. "Not now, Peter," she said. "Perhaps one day--who +can say? Meantime, go on liking me, will you?" + +"Like you!" he exclaimed, springing up, "Why, I adore you! I love you! +Oh, Julie, I love you! Kiss me, darling, now, quick!" + +She pushed him off. "Not now," she cried; "I've got to have my revenge. +I know why you wouldn't come home in the cab! Come! we'll clink glasses, +but that's all there is to be done to-night!" She sprang up, flushed and +glowing, and held out an empty glass. + +Peter filled hers and his, and they stood opposite to each other. She +looked across the wine at him, and it seemed to him that he read a +longing and a passion in her eyes, deep down below the merriness that was +there now. "Cheerio, old boy," she said, raising hers. "And 'here's to +the day when your big boots and my little shoes lie outside the same +closed door!'" + +"Julie!" he said, "you don't mean it!" + +"Don't I? How do you know, old sober-sides. Come, buck up, Solomon; we've +been sentimental long enough. I'd like to go to a music-hall now or do a +skirt-dance. But neither's really possible; certainly not the first, and +you'd be shocked at the second. I'm half a mind to shock you, though, +only my skirt's not long and wide enough, and I've not enough lace +underneath. I'll spare you. Come on!" + +She seized her hat and put it on. They went out into the hall. There +was a man in uniform there, at the office, and a girl, French and +unmistakable, who glanced at Julie, and then turned away. Julie nodded to +madame, and did not glance at the man, but as she passed the girl she +said distinctly, "Bon soir, mademoiselle." The girl started and turned +towards her. Julie smiled sweetly and passed on. + +Peter took her arm in the street, for it was quite dark and deserted. + +"Why did you do that?" he said. + +"What?" she demanded. + +"Speak to that girl. You know what she is?" + +"I do--a poor devil that's playing with Fate for the sake of a laugh and +a bit of ribbon. I'm jolly sorry for her, for they are both worth a great +deal, and it's hard to be cheated into thinking you've got them when Fate +is really winning the deal. And I saw her face before she turned away. +Why do you think she turned away, Peter? Not because she was ashamed, but +because she is beginning to know that Fate wins. Oh, la! la! what a +world! Let's be more cheerful. _'There's a long, long trail a-winding.'_" +she hummed. + +Peter laughed. "Oh, my dear," he said, "was there ever anyone like you?" + +Langton was reading in his room when Peter looked in to say good-night. + +"Hullo!" he said. "See her home?" + +"Yes," said Peter. "What did you think of her?" + +"She's fathoms deep, I should say. But I should take care if I were you, +my boy. It's all very well to eat and drink with publicans and sinners, +though, as I told you, it's better no one should know. But they are +dangerous company." + +"Why especially?" demanded Peter. + +Langton stretched himself. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "Perhaps because +society's agin 'em." + +"Look here, Langton," said Peter. "Do you hear what I say? _Damn_ +society! Besides, do you think your description applies to that girl?" + +Langton smiled. "No," he said, "I shouldn't think so, but she's not your +sort, Peter. When you take that tunic off, you've got to put on a black +coat. Whatever conclusions you come to, don't forget that." + +"Have I?" said Peter; "I wonder." + +Langton got up. "Of course you have," he said. "Life's a bit of a farce, +but one's got to play it. See here, I believe in facing facts and getting +one's eyes open, but not in making oneself a fool. Nothing's worth that." + +"Isn't it?" said Peter; and again, "I wonder." + +"Well, I don't, and at any rate I'm for bed. Good-night." + +"Good-night," said Peter; "I'm off too. But I don't agree with you. I'm +inclined to think exactly the opposite--that anything worth having is +worth making oneself a fool over. What is a fool, anyway? Good-night." + +He closed the door, and Langton walked over to the window to open it. He +stood there a few minutes listening to the silence. Then a cock crew +somewhere, and was answered far away by another. "Yes," said Langton to +himself, "what is a fool, anyway?" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The Lessing family sat at dinner, and it was to be observed that some of +those incredible wonders at which Peter Graham had once hinted to Hilda +had come about. There were only three courses, and Mr. Lessing had but +one glass of wine, for one thing; for another he was actually in uniform, +and was far more proud of his corporal's stripes than he had previously +been of his churchwarden's staff of office. Nor was he only in the +Volunteers; he was actually in training to some extent, and the war had +at any rate done him good. His wife was not dressed for dinner either; +she had just come in from a war committee of some sort. A solitary maid +waited on them, and they had already given up fires in the dining-room. +Not that Mr. Lessing's income had appreciably diminished, but, quite +honestly, he and his were out to win the war. He had come to the +conclusion at last that business could not go on as usual, but, routed +out of that stronghold, he had made for himself another. The war was +now to him a business. He viewed it in that light. + +"We must stop them," he was saying. "Mark my words, they'll never get to +Amiens. Did you see Haig's last order to the troops? Not another inch was +to be given at any cost. We shan't give either. We've _got_ to win this +war; there's too much at stake for us to lose. Whoever has to foot the +bill for this business is ruined, and it's not going to be Great Britain. +They were saying in the Hall to-night that the Army is as cheerful as +possible: that's the best sign. I doubt the German Army is. Doesn't +Graham say anything about it, Hilda?" + +"No, father," said Hilda shortly, and bent over her plate. + +"'Xtraordinary thing. He's a smart chap, and I should have thought he'd +have been full of it. Perhaps he's too far back." + +"He was in a big town he doesn't name the other day, in an air-raid, and +a man was killed in his carriage." + +"Good Lord! you don't say so? When did you hear that? I thought we had +command of the air." + +"I got a letter to-night, father. He just mentioned that, but he doesn't +say much else about it. He's at Abbeville now, on the Somme, and he says +the Germans come over fairly often by night." + +"Impossible!" snorted the old man, "I have it on the best possible +authority that our air service is completely up to date now, and far +better than the German. He must be exaggerating. They would never allow +the enemy to out-distance us in so important a department. What else does +he say?" + +"Oh, nothing;" said Hilda, "or at least nothing about the war in a way. +It's full of--of his work." She stopped abruptly. + +"Well, well," said Mr. Lessing, "I was against his going at first; but +it's all shoulders to the wheel now, and it was plain he ought to see a +little life out there. A young man who doesn't won't have much of a look +in afterwards--that's how _I_ reasoned it. And he works hard, does +Graham; I've always said that for him, I expect he's of great service to +them. Eh, Hilda?" + +"I don't know," said the girl; "he doesn't say. But he's been chosen for +some special work, lecturing or something, and that's why he's at +Abbeville." + +"Ah! Good! Special work, eh? He'll go far yet, that fellow. I don't know +that I'd have chosen him for you, Hilda, at first, but this business has +shaken us all up, and I shouldn't be surprised if Graham comes to the +front over it." He stopped as the maid came in, "I think I'll have my +coffee in the study, my dear," he said to Mrs. Lessing; "I have some +reading to do." + +When the two women were once more alone Mrs. Lessing put her cup down, +and spoke. "What is it, dear?" she questioned. + +Hilda did not look at her. The two, indeed, understood each other very +well. "I can't tell you here, mother," she said. + +"Come, then, dear," said Mrs. Lessing, rising. "Let's go to my room. Your +father will be busy for some time, and we shall not be disturbed there." + +She led the way, and lit a small gas fire. "I can't be cold in my +bedroom," she said; "and though I hate these things, they are better +than nothing. Now, dear, what is it?" + +Hilda seated herself on a footstool on the other side of the fire, and +stared into it. The light shone on her fair skin and hair, and Mrs. +Lessing contemplated her with satisfaction from several points of view. +For one thing, Hilda was so sensible.... + +"What is it?" she asked again. "Your father saw nothing--men don't; but +you can't hide from me, dear, that your letter has troubled you. Is Peter +in trouble?" + +Hilda shook her head. Then she said: "Well, at least, mother, not that +sort of trouble. I told father truly; he's been picked for special +service." + +"Well, then, what is it?" Mrs. Lessing was a trifle impatient. + +"Mother," said Hilda, "I've known that he has not been happy ever since +his arrival in France, but I've never properly understood why. Peter is +queer in some ways, you know. You remember that sermon of his? He won't +be content with things; he's always worrying. And now he writes +dreadfully. He says..." She hesitated. Then, suddenly, she pulled out the +letter. "Listen, mother," she said, and read what Peter had written in +the club until the end. "'I am going to eat and drink with publicans and +sinners; maybe I shall find my Master still there.'" + +If Langton could have seen Mrs. Lessing he would have smiled that cynical +smile of his with much satisfaction. She was frankly horrified--rendered, +in fact, almost speechless. + +"Hilda!" she exclaimed. "What a thing to write to you! But what does he +mean? Has he forgotten that he is a clergyman? Why, it's positively +blasphemous! He is speaking of Christ, I suppose. My poor girl, he must +be mad. Surely you see that, dear." + +Hilda stared on into the fire, and made no reply. Her mother hardly +needed one, "Has he met another woman, Hilda?" she demanded. + +"I don't know; he doesn't say so," said Hilda miserably. "But anyhow, I +don't see that that matters." + +"Not matter, girl! Are you mad too? He is your fiancé, isn't he? Really, +I think I must speak to your father." + +Hilda turned her head slowly, and mother and daughter looked at each +other. Mrs. Lessing was a woman of the world, but she was a good mother, +and she read in her daughter's eyes what every mother has to read sooner +or later. It was as one woman to another, and not as mother to daughter, +that she continued lamely: "Well, Hilda, what do you make of it all? What +are you going to do?" + +The girl looked away again, and a silence fell between them. Then she +said, speaking in short, slow sentences: + +"I will tell you what I make of it, mother. Peter's gone beyond me, I +think, now, that I have always feared a little that he might. Of course, +he's impetuous and headstrong, but it is more than that. He feels +differently from me, from all of us. I can see that, though I don't +understand him a bit. I thought" (her voice faltered) "he loved me more. +He knows how I wanted him to get on in the Church, and how I would have +helped him. But that's nothing to him, or next to nothing. I think he +doesn't love me at all, mother, and never really did." + +Mrs. Lessing threw her head back. "Then he's a fool, my dear," she said +emphatically. "You're worth loving; you know it. I should think no more +about him, Hilda." + +Hilda's hands tightened round her knees. "I can't do that," she said. + +Mrs. Lessing was impatient again. "Do you mean, Hilda, that if he +persists in this--this madness, if he gives up the Church, for example, +you will not break off the engagement? Mind you, that is the point. Every +young man must have a bit of a fling, possibly even clergymen, I suppose, +and they get over it. A sensible girl knows that. But if he ruins his +prospects--surely, Hilda, you are not going to be a fool?" + +The word had been spoken again. Peter had had something to say on it, and +now the gods gave Hilda her chance. She stretched her fine hands out to +the fire, and a new note came into her voice. + +"A fool, mother? Oh no, I shan't be a fool. A fool would follow him to +the end of the world. A fool of a woman would give him all he wants for +the sake of giving, and be content with nothing in return. I see that. +But I'm not made for that sort of foolery.... No, I shan't be a fool." + +Mrs. Lessing could not conceal her satisfaction. "Well, I am sure I am +very glad to hear you say it, and so would your father be. We have not +brought you up carefully for nothing, Hilda. You are a woman now, and I +don't believe in trying to force a woman against her will, but I am +heartily glad, my dear, that you are so sensible. When you are as old as +I am and have a daughter of your own, you will be glad that you have +behaved so to-night." + +Hilda got up, and put her hands behind her head, which was a favourite +posture of hers. She stood looking down at her mother with a curious +expression on her face. Mrs. Lessing could make nothing of it; she merely +thought Hilda "queer"; she had travelled farther than she knew from +youth. + +"Shall I, mother?" said Hilda. "Yes, I expect I shall. I have been +carefully brought up, as you say, so carefully that even now I can only +just see what a fool might do, and I know quite well that I can't do it. +After a while I shall no more see it than you do. I shall even probably +forget that I ever did. So that is all. And because I love him, really, +I don't think I can even say 'poor Peter!' That's curious, isn't it, +mother?... Well, I think I'll go to my room for a little. I won't come in +again. Good-night." + +She bent and kissed Mrs. Lessing. Her mother held her arms a moment more. +"Then, what are you going to do?" she demanded. + +Hilda freed herself, "Write and try to persuade him not to be a fool +either, I think. Not that it's any good. And then--wait and see." She +walked to the floor, "Of course, this is just between us two, isn't it, +dear?" she said, playing with the handle. + +"Of course," said her mother. "But do be sensible, dear, and don't wait +too long. It is much better not to play with these things--much better. +And do tell me how things go, darling, won't you?" + +"Oh yes," said Hilda slowly, "Oh yes I'll tell you.... Good-night." + +She passed out and closed the door gently "I wonder why I can't cry +to-night?" she asked herself as she went to her room, and quite honestly +she did not know. + +Across the water Peter's affairs were speeding up. If Hilda could have +seen him that night she would probably have wept without difficulty, but +for a much more superficial reason than the reason why she could not weep +in London. And it came about in this way. + +On the morning after the dinner Peter was moody, and declared he would +not go down to the office, but would take a novel out to the canal. He +was in half a mind to go up and call at the hospital, but something held +him back. Reflection showed him how near he had been to the fatal kiss +the night before, and he did not wish, or, with the morning, he thought +he did not wish, to see Julie so soon again. So he got his novel and went +out to the canal, finding a place where last year's leaves still lay +thick, and one could lie at ease and read. We do these things all our +days, and never learn the lesson. + +Half-way through the morning he looked up to see Langton striding along +towards him. He was walking quickly, with the air of one who brings news, +and he delivered his message as soon as they were within earshot of each +other. "Good news, Graham," he called out. "This tomfoolery is over. +They've heard from H.Q. that the whole stunt is postponed, and we've all +to go back to our bases. Isn't it like 'em?" he demanded, as he came up. +"Old Jackson in the office is swearing like blazes. He's had all his maps +made and plans drawn up, etcetera and etcetera, and now they're so much +waste-paper. Jolly fortunate, any road." He sat down and got out a pipe. + +Peter shut his book. "I'm glad," he said. "I'm sick of foolin' round +here. Not but what it isn't a decent enough place, but I prefer the +other. There's more doing. When do we go?" + +"To-morrow. They're getting our movement orders, yours to Havre, mine to +Rouen. I put in a spoke for you, to get one via Rouen, but I don't know +if you will. It's a vile journey otherwise." + +"By Jove!" cried Peter. "I've an idea! Miss Gamelyn's troop of +motor-buses goes back to Havre to-morrow empty. Why shouldn't I travel +on them? Think I could work it?" + +Langton puffed solemnly. "Sure, I should think," he said, "being a padre, +anyway." + +"What had I best do?" + +"Oh, I should go and see Jackson and get him to 'phone the hospital for +you--that is, if you really want to go that way." + +"It's far better than that vile train," said Peter. "Besides, one can see +the country, which I love. And I've never been in Dieppe, and they're to +go through there and pick up some casualties." + +"Just so," said Langton, still smoking. + +"Well," said Peter, "reckon I'll go and see about it. Jackson's a decent +old stick, but I'd best do it before he tackles the R.T.O. Coming?" + +"No," said Langton. "Leave that novel, and come back for me. You won't be +long." + +"Right-o," said Peter, and set off. + +It was easily done. Jackson had no objections, and rang up the hospital +while Peter waited. Oh yes, certainly they could do it. What was the +name? Captain. Graham, C.F. certainly. He must be at the hospital +early--eight-thirty the next morning. That all right? Thank you. + +"Thank you," said Peter. "Motoring's a long sight better than the train +these days, and I'll get in quicker, too, as a matter of fact, or at any +rate just as quickly." He turned to go, but a thought struck him. "Have +you an orderly to spare?" he asked. + +"Any quantity," said the other bitterly. "They've been detailed for +weeks, and done nothing. You can have one with pleasure. It'll give the +perisher something to do." + +"Thanks," said Peter; "I want to send a note, that's all. May I write it +here?" + +He was given pen and paper, and scribbled a little note to Julie. He did +not know who else might be on the lorry, or if she would want to appear +to know him. The orderly was called and despatched and he left the place +for the last time. + +Langton and he walked out to St. Riquier in the afternoon, had tea there, +and got back to dinner. A note was waiting for Peter, a characteristic +one. + +"DEAREST SOLOMON (it ran), + +"You are really waking up! There will be three of us nurses in one lorry, +and they're sure to start you off in another. We lunch at Eu, and I'll be +delighted to see you. Then you can go on in our car. Dieppe's on the +knees of the gods, as you say, but probably we can pull off something. + +"JULIE." + +He smiled and put it in his pocket. Langton said nothing till the coffee +and liqueurs came in. Then he lit a cigarette and held the match out to +Peter. "Wonder if we shall meet again?" he said. + +"Oh, I expect so," said Peter. "Write, anyway, won't you? I'll likely get +a chance to come to Rouen." + +"And I likely won't be there. I'm putting in again for another job. +They're short of men now, and want equipment officers for the R.A.F. It's +a stunt for which engineering's useful, and I may get in. I don't suppose +I'll see much of the fun, but it's better than bossing up a labour +company, any road." + +"Sportsman," said Peter. "I envy you. Why didn't you tell me? I've half a +mind to put in too. Do you think I'd have a chance?" + +"No," said Langton brutally. "Besides, it's not your line. You know what +yours is; stick to it." + +"And you know that I'm not so sure that I can," said Peter. + +"Rot!" said the other. "You can if you like. You won't gain by running +away. Only I give you this bit of advice, old son: go slow. You're so +damned hot-headed! You can't remake the world to order in five minutes; +and if you could, I bet it wouldn't be a much better old world. We've +worried along for some time moderately well. Don't be too ready to turn +down the things that have worked with some success, at any rate, for the +things that have never been tried." + +Peter smoked in silence. Then he said: "Langton you're a bit different +from what you were. In a way, it's you who have set me out on this +racket, and it's you who encouraged me to try and get down to +rock-bottom. You've always been a cautious old rotter, but you're more +than cautious now. Why?" + +Langton leaned over and touched the other's tunic pocket in which lay +Julie's note. Then he leaned back and went on with his cigarette. + +Peter flushed. "It's too late," he said judicially, flicking off his ash. + +"So? Well, I'm sorry, frankly--sorry for her and sorry for you. But if it +is, I'll remember my own wisdom: it's no use meddling with such things. +For all that, you're a fool, Peter, as I told you last night." + +"Just so. And I asked what was a fool." + +"And I didn't answer. I reckon fools can be of many sorts. Your sort of +fool chucks the world over for the quest of an ideal." + +"Thank you," said Peter quietly. + +"You needn't. That fool is a real fool, and bigger than most. Ideals are +ideals, and one can't realise them. It's waste of time to try." + +"Is it?" said Peter. "Well, at any rate, I don't know that I'm out after +them much. I don't see any. All I know is that I've looked in the likely +places, and now I'll look in the unlikely." + +Langton ground his cigarette-end in his coffee-cup. "You will," he said, +"whatever I say.... Have another drink? After all, there's no need to +'turn down the empty glass' yet." + +They did not see each other in the morning, and Peter made his way early +to the hospital as arranged. The P.M.O. met him, and he was put in +nominal charge of the three Red-Cross ambulance-cars. While he was +talking to the doctor the three nurses came out and got in, Julie not +looking in his direction; then he climbed up next the driver of the +first car. "Cheerio," said the P.M.O., and they were off. + +It was a dull day, and mists hung over the water-meadows by the Somme. +For all that Peter enjoyed himself immensely. They ran swiftly through +the little villages, under the sweeping trees all new-budded into green, +and soon had vistas of the distant sea. The driver of Peter's car was an +observant fellow, and he knew something of gardening. It was he who +pointed out that the fruit-trees had been indifferently pruned or not +pruned at all, and that there were fields no longer under the plough that +had been plainly so not long before. In a word, the country bore its war +scars, although it needed a clever eye to see them. + +But Peter had little thought for this. Now and again, at a corner, he +would glance back, his mind on Julie in the following car, while every +church tower gave him pause for thought. He tried to draw the man beside +him on religion, but without any success, though he talked freely enough +of other things. He was for the Colonies after the war, he said. He'd +knocked about a good deal in France, and the taste for travel had come to +him. Canada appeared a land of promise; one could get a farm easily, and +his motor knowledge would be useful on a farm these days. Yes, he had a +pal out there, a Canadian who had done his bit and been invalided out of +it. They corresponded, and he expected to get in with him, the one's +local knowledge eking out the other's technical. No, he wasn't for +marrying yet awhile; he'd wait till he'd got a place for the wife and +kiddies. Then he would. The thought made him expand a bit, and Peter +smiled to himself as he thought of his conversation with Langton over the +family group. It struck him to test the man, and as they passed a wayside +Calvary, rudely painted, he drew his attention to it. "What do you think +of that?" he asked. + +The man glanced at it, and then away. "It's all right for them as like +it," he said. "Religion's best in a church, it seems to me. I've seen +chaps mock at them crucifixes, sir, same as they wouldn't if they'd only +been in church." + +"Yes," said Peter; "but I suppose some men have been helped by them who +never would have been if they had only been in church. But don't you +think they're rather gaudy?" + +"Gaudy, sir? Meanin' 'ighly painted? No, not as I knows on. They're more +like what happened, I reckon, than them brass crosses we have in our +churches." + +They ran into Eu for lunch, and drew up in the market-square. Peter +went round to the girls' car, greeted Julie, and was introduced. He +led them to an old inn in the square, and they sat down to luncheon +in very good humour. The other girls were ordinary enough, and Julie +rather subdued for her. Afterwards they spent an hour in the church and +a picture-postcard shop, and it was there that Julie whispered: "Go on +in your own car. At Dieppe, go to the Hôtel Trois Poissons and wait for +me. I found out yesterday that a woman I know is a doctor in Dieppe, and +she lives there. I'll get leave easily to call. Then I can see you. If +we travel together these girls'll talk; they're just the sort." + +Peter nodded understanding, and they drifted apart. He went out to see if +the cars were ready and returned to call the nurses, and in a few minutes +they were off again. + +The road now ran through forests nearly all the way, except where +villages had cleared a space around them, as was plain to see. They +crossed little streams, and finally came downhill through the forest into +the river valley that leads to Dieppe. It was still early, and Peter +stopped the cars to suggest that they might have a look at the castle of +Arques-le-Bataille. The grand old pile kept them nearly an hour, and they +wandered about the ruins to their hearts' content. Julie would climb a +buttress of the ancient keep when their guide had gone on with the +others, and Peter went up after her. She was as lissom as a boy and +seemingly as strong, swinging up by roots of ivy and the branches of a +near tree, in no wise impeded by her short skirts. From the top one had, +indeed, a glorious view. The weather had cleared somewhat, and one could +see every bit of the old castle below, the village at its feet, and the +forest across the little stream out of which the Duke of Mayenne's +infantry had debouched that day of battle from which the village took +its name. + +"They had some of the first guns in the castle, which was held for Henry +of Navarre," explained Peter, "and they did great execution. I suppose +they fired one stone shot in about every five minutes, and killed a man +about every half-hour. The enemy were more frightened than hurt, I should +think. Anyway, Henry won." + +"Wasn't he the King who thought Paris worth more than a Mass?" she +demanded. + +"Yes," said Peter, watching her brown eyes as she stared out over the +plain. + +"I wonder what he thinks now," she said. + +He laughed. "You're likely to wonder," he said. + +"Funny old days," said Julie. "I suppose there were girls in this castle +watching the fight. I expect they cared more for the one man each +half-hour the cannon hit than for either Paris or the Mass. That's the +way of women, Peter, and a damned silly way it is! Come on, let's go. +I'll get down first, if you please." + +On the short road remaining Peter asked his chauffeur if he knew the +Trois Poissons, and, finding that he did, had the direction pointed out. +They ran through the town to the hospital, and Peter handed his cars +over. "I'll sleep in town," he said. "What time ought we to start in the +morning?" He was told, and walked away. Julie had disappeared. + +He found the Trois Poissons without difficulty, and made his way to the +sitting-room, a queer room opening from the pavement direct on the one +side, and from the hall of the hotel on the other. It had a table down +the middle, a weird selection of chairs, and a piano. A small woman was +sitting in a chair reading the _Tatler_ and smoking. An empty glass +stood beside her. + +She looked up as he came in, and he noticed R.A.M.C. badges. +"Good-evening," he said cheerily. + +"Good-evening, padre," she replied, plainly willing to talk. "Where have +you sprung from?" + +"Abbeville via Eu in a convoy of Red Cross cars," he said, "and I feel +like a sun-downer. Won't you have another with me?" + +"Sure thing," she said, and he ordered a couple from the French maid who +came in answer to his ring. "Do you live here?" he asked. + +"For my sins I do," she said. "I doctor Waac's, and I don't think much of +it. A finer, heartier lot of women I never saw. Epsom salts is all they +want. A child could do it." + +Peter laughed. "Well, I don't see why you should grumble," he said. + +"Don't you? Where's the practice? This business out here is the best +chance for doctors in a lifetime, and I have to strip strapping girls +hopelessly and endlessly." + +"You do, do you?" said a voice in the doorway, and there stood Julie. +"Well, at any rate you oughtn't to talk about it like that to my +gentleman friends, especially padres. How do you do, my dear?" + +"Julie, by all that's holy! Where have you sprung from?" + +She glanced from one to the other. "From Abbeville via Eu in a convoy of +Red Cross cars, I dare bet," she said. + +"Julie, you're beyond me. If you weren't so strong I'd smack you, but as +it is, give me another kiss. _And_ introduce us. There may as well be +propriety somewhere." + +They sorted themselves out and sat down. "What do you think of my rig?" +demanded Dr. Melville (as Julie had introduced her). + +"Toppin'," said Julie critically. "But what in the world is it? Chiefly +Waac, with three pukka stars and an R.A.M.C. badge. Teanie, how dare you +do it?" + +"I dare do all that doth become a woman," she answered complacently. "And +it doth, doth it not? Skirt's a trifle short, perhaps," she added, +sticking out a leg and examining the effect critically, "but upper's +eminently satisfactory." + +Julie leaned over and prodded her. "No corsets?" she inquired innocently. + +"Julie, you're positively indecent. You must have tamed your padre +completely. You're not married by any chance?" she added suddenly. + +Julie screamed with laughter. "Oh, Teanie, you'll be the death of me," +she said at last. "Solomon, are we married? I don't think so, Teanie. +There's never no telling these days, but I can't recollect it." + +"Well, it strikes me you ought to be if you're jogging round the country +together," said the other, her eyes twinkling. "But if you're not, take +warning, padre. A girl that talks about corsets in public isn't +respectable, especially as she doesn't wear them herself, except in the +evening, for the sake of other things. Or she used not to. But perhaps +you know?" + +Peter tried to look comfortable, but he was completely out of his depth. +He finished his drink with a happy inspiration, and ordered another. That +down, he began to feel more capable of entering into the spirit of these +two. They were the sort he wanted to know, both of them, women about as +different from those he had met as they could possibly be. + +Another man dropped in after a while, so the talk became general. The +atmosphere was very free and easy, bantering, careless, jolly, and Peter +expanded in it. Julie led them all. She was never at a loss, and +apparently had no care in the world. + +The two girls and Peter went together to dinner and sat at the same +table. They talked a good deal together, and Peter gathered they had come +to know each other at a hospital in England. They were full of +reminiscences. + +"Do you remember ducking Pockett?" Teanie asked Julie. + +"Lor', I should think I do! Tell Peter. He won't be horrified unless you +go into details. If I cough, Solomon, you're to change the subject. Carry +on, Teanie." + +"Well, Pockett was a nurse of about the last limit. She was fearfully +snobby, which nobody of that name ought to be, and she ruled her pros. +with a rod of iron. I expect that was good for them, and I say nothing +as to that, but she was a beast to the boys. We had some poor chaps in +who were damnably knocked about, and one could do a lot for them in +roundabout ways. Regulations are made to be broken in some cases, I +think. But she was a holy terror. Sooner than call her, the boys would +endure anything, but some of us knew, and once she caught Julie here..." + +"It wasn't--it was you, Teanie." + +"Oh, well, one of us, anyway, in her ward when she was on night duty, +sitting with a poor chap who pegged out a few days after. It soothed him +to sit and hold her hand. Well, anyway, she was furious and reported it. +There was a bit of a row--had to be, I suppose, as it was against +regulations--but thank God the P.M.O. knew his job, so there was only a +strafe with the tongue in the cheek. However, we swore revenge, and we +had it--eh, Julie?" + +"We did. Go on. It was you who thought of it." + +"Well, we filled a bath with tepid water and then went to her room one +night. She was asleep, and never heard us. We had a towel round her head +in two twinks, and carried her by the legs and arms to the bathroom. +Julie had her legs, and held 'em well up, so that down went her head +under water. She couldn't yell then. When we let her up, I douched her +with cold water, and then we bolted. We saw to it that there wasn't a +towel in the bathroom, and we locked her bedroom door. Oh, lor', poor +soul, but it was funny! She met an orderly in the corridor, and he nearly +had a fit, and I don't wonder, for her wet nightie clung to her figure +like a skin. She had to try half a dozen rooms before she got anyone to +help her, and then, when she got back, we'd ragged her room to blazes. +She never said a word, and left soon after. Ever hear of her again, +Julie?" + +"No," said she, looking more innocent than ever, Peter thought; "but I +expect she's made good somewhere. She must have had something in her or +she'd have kicked up a row." + +Miss Melville was laughing silently. "You innocent babe unborn," she +said; "never shall I forget how you held...." + +"Come on, Captain Graham," said Julie, getting up; "you've got to see me +home, and I want a nice walk by the sea-front." + +They went out together, and stood at the hotel door in the little street. +There was a bit of a moon, with clouds scurrying by, and when it shone +the road was damp and glistening in the moonlight. "What a heavenly +night!" said Julie. "Come on with us along the sea-front, Teanie--do!" + +Miss Melville smiled up at them. "I reckon you'd prefer to be alone," she +said. + +Peter glanced at Julie, and then protested. "No," he said; "do come on," +and Julie rewarded him with a smile. + +So they set out together. On the front the wind was higher, lashing the +waves, and the moonlight shone fitfully on the distant cliffs, the +harbour mouth, and the sea. The two girls clung together, and as Peter +walked by Julie she took his arm. Conversation was difficult as they +battled their way along the promenade. There was hardly a soul about, and +Peter felt the night to fit his mood. + +They went up once and down again, and at the Casino grounds Teanie +stopped them. "'Nough," she said; "I'm for home and bed. You two dears +can finish up without me." + +"Oh, we must see you home," said Peter. + +The doctor laughed. "Think I shall get stolen?" she demanded. "Someone +would have to get up pretty early for that. No, padre, I'm past the need +of being escorted, thanks. Good-night. Be good, Julie. We'll meet again +sometime, I hope. If not, keep smiling. Cheerio." + +She waved her hand and was gone in the night. "If there was ever a +plucky, unselfish, rattling good woman, there she goes," said Julie. +"I've known her sit up night after night with wounded men when she was +working like a horse all day. I've known her to help a drunken Tommy +into a cab and get him home, and quiet his wife into the bargain. I saw +her once walk off out of the Monico with a boy of a subaltern, who didn't +know what he was doing, and take him to her own flat, and put him to bed, +and get him on to the leave-train in time in the morning. She'd give away +her last penny, and you wouldn't know she'd done it. And yet she's not +the sort of woman you'd choose to run a mother's meeting, would you, +Solomon?" + +"Sure thing I wouldn't," said Peter, "not in my old parish, but I'm not +so sure I wouldn't in my new one." + +"What's your new one?" asked Julie curiously. + +"Oh, it hasn't a name," said Peter, "but it's pretty big. Something after +the style of John Wesley's parish, I reckon. And I'm gradually getting it +sized up." + +"Where do I come in, Solomon?" demanded Julie. + +They were passing by the big Calvary at the harbour gates, and there was +a light there. He stopped and turned so that the light fell on her. She +looked up at him, and so they stood a minute. He could hear the lash of +the waves, and the wind drumming in the rigging of the flagstaff near +them. Then, deliberately, he bent down, and kissed her on the lips. "I +don't know, Julie," he said, "but I believe you have the biggest part, +somehow." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +All that it is necessary to know of Hilda's return letter to Peter ran as +follows: + +"My Dear Boy, + +"Your letter from Abbeville reached me the day before yesterday, and I +have thought about nothing else since. It is plain to me that it is no +use arguing with you and no good reproaching you, for once you get an +idea into your head nothing but bitter experience will drive it out. But, +Peter, you must see that so far as I am concerned you are asking me to +choose between you and your strange ideas and all that is familiar and +dear in my life. You can't honestly expect me to believe that my Church +and my parents and my teachers are all wrong, and that, to put it mildly, +the very strange people you appear to be meeting in France are all right. +My dear Peter, do try and look at it sensibly. The story you told me of +the death of Lieutenant Jenks was terrible--terrible; it brings the war +home in all its ghastly reality; but really, you know, it was his fault +and not yours, and still less the fault of the Church of England, that he +did not want you when he came to die. If a man lives without God, he can +hardly expect to find Him at the point of sudden death. What you say +about Christ, too, utterly bewilders me. Surely our Church's teachings in +the Catechism and the Prayer-Book is Christian teaching, isn't it? +Nothing is perfect on earth, and the Church is human, but our Church +is certainly the best I know of. It is liberal, active, moderate, and--I +don't like the word, but after all it is a good one--respectable. I don't +know much about these things, but surely you of all people don't want to +go shouting in the street like a Salvation Army Captain. I can't see that +that is more 'in touch with reality.' Peter, what do you mean? Are not +St. John's, and the Canon, and my people, and myself, real? Surely, +Peter, our love is real, isn't it? Oh, how can you doubt that? + +"Darling boy, don't you think you are over-strained and over-worried? You +are in a strange country, among strange people, at a very peculiar time. +War always upsets everything and makes things abnormal. London, even, +isn't normal, but, as the Canon said the other day, a great many of the +things people do just now are due to reaction against strain and anxiety. +Can't you see this? Isn't there any clergyman you can go and talk to? +Your Presbyterian and other new friends and your visits to Roman Catholic +churches can't be any real help. + +"Peter, dear, for my sake, do, _do_ try to see things like this. I _hate_ +that bit in your letter about publicans and sinners. How can a clergyman +expect _them_ to help _him_? Surely you ought to avoid such people, not +seek their company. It is so like you to get hold of a text or two and +run it to death. It's not that I don't _trust_ you, but you are so easily +influenced, and you may equally easily go and do something that will +separate us and ruin your life. Peter, I hate to write like this, but I +can't help it...." + +Peter let the sheets fall from his hands and stared out of the little +window. The gulls were screaming and fighting over some refuse in the +harbour, and he watched the beat of their wings, fascinated. If only he, +too, could catch the wind and be up and away like that! + +He jumped up and paced up and down the floor restlessly, and he told +himself that Hilda was right and he was a cad and worse. Julie's kiss on +his lips burned there yet. That at any rate was wrong; by any standards +he had no right to behave so. How could he kiss her when he was pledged +to Hilda--Hilda to whom everyone had looked up, the capable, lady-like, +irreproachable Hilda, the Hilda to whom Park Lane and St. John's were +such admirable setting. And who was he, after all, to set aside all that +for which both those things stood? + +And yet.... He sat down by the little table and groaned. + +"What the dickens is the matter with you, padre?" + +Peter started and looked round. In the doorway stood Pennell, regarding +him with amusement. "Here am I trying to read, and you pacing up and down +like a wild beast. What the devil's up?" + +"The devil himself, that's what's up," said Peter savagely. "Look here, +Pen, come on down town and let's have a spree. I hate this place and this +infernal camp. It gets on my nerves. I must have a change. Will you come? +It's my do." + +"I'm with you, old thing. I know what you feel like; I get like that +myself sometimes. It's a pleasure to see that you're so human. We'll go +down town and razzle-dazzle for once. I'm off duty till to-night. I ought +to sleep, I suppose, but I can't, so come away with you. I won't be a +second." + +He disappeared. Peter stood for a moment, then slipped his tunic off and +put on another less distinctive of his office. He crossed to the desk, +unlocked it, and reached for a roll of notes, shoving them into his +pocket. Then he put on his cap, took a stick from the corner, and went +out into the passage. But there he remembered, and came quickly back. +He folded Hilda's letter and put it away in a drawer; then he went out +again. "Are you ready, Pennell?" he called. + +The two of them left camp and set out across the docks. As they crossed a +bridge a one-horse cab came into the road from a side-street and turned +in their direction. "Come on," said Peter. "Anything is better than this +infernal walk over this _pavé_ always. Let's hop in." + +They stopped the man, who asked where to drive to. + +"Let's go to the Bretagne first and get a drink," said Pennell. + +"Right," said Peter--"any old thing. Hôtel de la Bretagne," he called to +the driver. + +They set off at some sort of a pace, and Pennell leaned back with a +laugh. "It's a funny old world, Graham," he said. "One does get fed-up at +times. Why sitting in a funeral show like this cab and having a drink in +a second-rate pub should be any amusement, I don't know. But it is. +You're infectious, my boy. I begin to feel like a rag myself. What shall +we do?" + +"The great thing," said Peter judiciously, "is not to know what one is +going to do, but just to take anything that comes along. I remember at +the 'Varsity one never set out to rag anything definitely. You went out +and you saw a bobby and you took his hat, let us say. You cleared, and he +after you. Anything might happen then." + +"I should think so," said Pennell. + +"I remember once walking home with a couple of men, and one of them +suggested dousing all the street lamps in the road, which was a +residential one leading into town. There wasn't anything in it, but we +did it. One man put his back against a post, while the second went on to +the next post. Then the third man mounted the first man's back, shoved +out the light, jumped clear, and ran on past the next lamp-post to the +third. The first man jumped on No. 2's back and doused his lamp, and so +on. We did the street in a few minutes, and then a constable came into it +at the top. He probably thought he was drunk, then he spotted lights +going out, and like an ass he blew his whistle. We were round a corner in +no time, and then turned and ran back to see if we could offer +assistance!" + +"Some gag!" chuckled Pennell; "but I hope you won't go on that sort +of racket to-night. It would be a little more serious if we were +caught.... Also, these blighted gendarmes would probably start firing, +or some other damned thing." + +"They would," said Peter; "besides, that doesn't appeal to me now. I'm +getting too old, or else my tastes have become depraved." + +The one-horse cab stopped with a jerk. "Hop out," said Peter. He settled +the score, and the two of them entered the hotel and passed through into +the private bar. + +"What is it to be?" demanded Pennell. + +"Cocktails to-day, old son," said Peter; "I want bucking up. What do you +say to martinis?" + +The other agreed, and they moved over to the bar. A monstrously fat woman +stood behind it, like some bloated spider, and a thin, weedy-looking girl +assisted her. A couple of men were already there. It was too early for +official drinks, but the Bretagne knew no law. + +They ordered their drinks, and stood there while madame compounded them +and put in the cherries. Another man came in, and Peter recognised the +Australian Ferrars, whom he had met before. He introduced Pennell and +called for another martini. + +"So you frequent this poison-shop, do you?" said Ferrars. + +"Not much," laughed Peter, "but it's convenient." + +"It is, and it's a good sign when a man like you wants a drink. I'd +sooner listen to your sermons any day than some chaps' I know." + +"Subject barred here," said Pennell. "But here's the very best to you, +Graham, for all that." + +"Same here," said Ferrars, and put down his empty glass. + +The talk became general. There was nothing whatever in it--mild chaffing, +a yarn or two, a guarded description by Peter of his motor drive from +Abbeville, and then more drinks. And so on. The atmosphere was warm and +genial, but Peter wondered inwardly why he liked it, and he did not like +it so much that Pennell's "Well, what about it? Let's go on, Graham, +shall we?" found him unready. The two said a general good-bye, promised +madame to look in again, and sauntered out. + +They crossed the square in front of Travalini's, lingered at the +flower-stalls, refused the girls' pressure to buy, and strolled on. +"I'm sick of Travalini's," said Pennell. "Don't let's go in there." + +"So am I," said Peter. "Let's stroll down towards the sea." + +They turned down a side-street, and stood for a few minutes looking into +a picture and book shop. At that moment quick footsteps sounded on the +pavement, and Pennell glanced round. + +Two girls passed them, obviously sisters. They were not flashily dressed +exactly, but there was something in their furs and their high-heeled, +high-laced boots that told its own story. "By Jove, that's a pretty +girl!" exclaimed Pennell; "let's follow them." + +Peter laughed; he was reckless, but not utterly so. "If you like," he +said. "I'm on for any rag. We'll take them for a drink, but I stop at +that, mind, Pen." + +"Sure thing," said Pennell. "But come on; we'll miss them." + +They set out after the girls, who, after one glance back, walked on as if +they did not know they were being followed. But they walked slowly, and +it was easy for the two men to catch them up. + +Peter slackened a few paces behind. "Look here, Pen," he said, "what the +deuce are we going to do? They'll expect more than a drink, you know." + +"Oh no, they won't, not so early as this. It's all in the way of business +to them, too. Let's pass them first," he suggested, "and then slacken +down and wait for them to speak." + +Peter acquiesced, feeling rather more than an ass, but the drinks had +gone slightly to his head. They executed their share of the maneuver, +Pennell looking at the girls and smiling as he did so. But the two +quickened their pace and passed the officers without a word. + +"If you ask me, this is damned silly," said Peter. "Let's chuck it." + +"No, no; wait a bit," said Pennell excitedly. "You'll see what they'll +do. It's really an amusing study in human nature. Look! I told you so. +They live there." + +The girls had crossed the street, and were entering a house. One of them +unlocked the door, and they both disappeared. "There," said Peter, "that +finishes it. We've lost them." + +"Have we?" said his companion. "Come on over." + +They crossed the street and walked up to the door. It was open and +perhaps a foot ajar. Pennell pushed it wide and walked in. "Come on," he +said again. Peter followed reluctantly, but curious. He was seeing a new +side of life, he thought grimly. + +Before them a flight of stairs led straight up to a landing, but there +was no sign of the girls. "What's next?" demanded Peter. "We'll be fired +out in two twos if nothing worse happens. Suppose they're decent girls +after all; what would you say?" + +"I'd ask if Mlle. Lucienne lived here," said Pennell, "and apologise +profusely when I found she didn't. But you can't make a mistake in this +street, Graham. I'm going up. It's the obvious thing, and probably what +they wanted. Coming?" + +He set off to mount the stairs, and Peter, reassured, followed him, at a +few paces. When he reached the top, Pennell was already entering an open +door. + +"How do you do, ma chérie?" said one of the girls, smiling, and holding +out a hand. + +Peter looked round curiously. The room was fairly decently furnished in a +foreign middle-class fashion, half bedroom, half sitting-room. One of the +girls sat on the arm of a big chair, the other was greeting his friend. +She was the one he had fancied, but a quick glance attracted Peter +to the other and elder. He was in for it now, and he was determined to +play up. He crossed the floor, and smiled down at the girl on the arm of +the chair. + +"So you 'ave come," she said in broken English. "I told Lucienne that you +would not." + +"Lucienne!" exclaimed Peter, and looked back at Pennell. + +That traitor laughed, and seated himself on the edge of the bed, drawing +the other girl to him. "I'm awfully sorry, Graham," he said; "but I +couldn't help it. You wanted to see life, and you'd have shied off if I +hadn't played a game. I do just know this little girl, and jolly nice she +is too. Give me a kiss, Lulu." + +The girl obeyed, her eyes sparkling. "It's not proper before monsieur," +she said. "'E is--how do you say?--shocked?" + +She seated herself on Pennell's knee, and, putting an arm round his neck, +kissed him again, looking across at Peter mischievously. "We show 'im +French kiss," she added to Pennell, and pouted out her lips to his. + +"Well, now you 'ave come, what do you want?" demanded the girl on the arm +of Peter's chair. "Sit down," she said imperiously, patting the seat, +"and talk to me." + +Peter laughed more lightly than he felt. "Well, I want a drink," he said, +at random. "Pen," he called across the room, "what about that drink?" The +girl by him reached over and touched a bell. As she did so, Peter saw the +curls that clustered on her neck and caught the perfume of her hair. It +was penetrating and peculiar, but not distasteful, and it did all that it +was meant to do. He bent, and kissed the back of her neck, still +marvelling at himself. + +She straightened herself, smiling. "That is better. You aren't so cold as +you pretended, chérie. Now kiss me properly," and she held up her face. + +Peter kissed her lips. Before he knew it, a pair of arms were thrown +about his neck, and he was being half-suffocated with kisses. He tore +himself away, disgusted and ashamed. + +"No!" he cried sharply, but knowing that it was too late. + +The girl threw herself back, laughing merrily, "Oh, you are funny!" she +said. "Lucienne, take your boy away; I want to talk to mine." + +Before he could think of a remonstrance, it was done. Pennell and the +other girl got up from the bed where they had been whispering together, +and left the room. "Pennell!" called Peter, too late again, jumping up. +The girl ran round him, pushed the door to, locked it, and dropped the +key down the neck of her dress. "Voila!" she said gaily. + +There came a knock on the door. "Non, non!" she cried in French. "Take +the wine to Mlle. Lucienne; I am busy." + +Peter walked across the room to her. "Give me the key," he said, holding +out his hand, and changing his tactics. "Please do. I won't go till my +friend comes back. I promise." + +The girl looked at him. "You promise? But you will 'ave to find it." + +He smiled and nodded, and she walked deliberately to the bed, undid the +front of her costume, and slipped it off. Bare necked and armed, she +turned to him, holding open the front of her chemise. "Down there," she +said. + +It was a strange moment and a strange thing, but a curious courage came +back to Peter in that second. Without hesitation, he put his hand down +and sought for the key against her warm body. He found it, and help it +up, smiling. Then he moved to the door, pushed the key in the keyhole, +and turned again to the girl. "There!" he said simply. + +With a gesture of abandon, she threw herself on the bed, propping her +cheek on her hand and staring at him. He sat down where Pennell had sat, +but made no attempt to touch her, leaning, instead, back and away against +the iron bed-post. She pulled up her knees, flung her arms back, and +laughed. "And now, monsieur?" she said. + +Peter had never felt so cool in his life. His thoughts raced, but +steadily, as if he had dived into cold, clear water. He smiled again, +unhesitatingly, but sadly. "Dear," he said deliberately, "listen to me. I +have cheated you by coming here to-day, though you shan't suffer for it. +I did not want anything, and I don't now. But I'm glad I've come, even +though you do not understand. I don't want to do a bit what my friend is +doing. I don't know why, but I don't. I'm engaged to a girl in England, +but it's not because of that. I'm a chaplain too--a curé, you know--in +the English Army; but it's not because of that." + +"Protestant?" demanded the girl on the bed. + +He nodded. "Ah, well," she said, "the Protestant ministers have wives. +They are men; it is different with priests. If your fiancée is wise, she +wouldn't mind if you love me a little. She is in England; I am here--is +it not so? You love me now; again, perhaps, once or twice. Then it is +finished. You do not tell your fiancée and she does not know. It is +no matter. Come on, chérie!" + +She held out her hands and threw her head back on the pillow. + +Peter smiled again. "You do not understand," he said. "And nor do I, but +I must be different from some men. I do not want to." + +"Ah, well," she exclaimed brightly, sitting up, "another time! Give me my +dress, monsieur le curé." + +He got up and handed it to her. "Tell me," he said, "do you like this +sort of life?" + +She shrugged her white shoulders indifferently. "Sometimes," she +said--"sometimes not. There are good boys and bad boys. Some are rough, +cruel, mean; some are kind, and remember that it costs much to live +these days, and one must dress nicely. See," she said deliberately, +showing him, "it is lace, fine lace; I pay fifty francs in Paris!" + +"I will give you that," said Peter, and he placed the note on the bed. + +She stared at it and at him. "Oh, I love you!" she cried. "You are kind! +Ah, now, if I could but love you always!" + +"Always?" he demanded. + +"Yes, always, always, while you are here, in Le Havre. I would have no +other boy but you. Ah, if you would! You do not know how one tires of the +music-hall, the drinks, the smiles! I would do just all you please--be +gay, be solemn, talk, be silent, just as you please! Oh, if you would!" + +Half in and half out of her dress, she stood there, pleading. Peter +looked closely at the little face with its rouge and powder. + +"You hate that!" she exclaimed, with quick intuition. "See, it is gone. I +use it no more, only a leetle, leetle, for the night." And she ran across +to the basin, dipped a little sponge in water, passed it over her face, +and turned to him triumphantly. + +Peter sighed. "Little girl," he said sadly, hardly knowing that he spoke. +"I cannot save myself: how can I save you?" + +"Pouf!" she cried. "Save! What do you mean?" She drew herself up with an +absurd gesture. "You think me a bad girl? No, I am not bad; I go to +church. Le bon Dieu made us as we are; it is nécessaire." + +They stood before each other, a strange pair, the product of a strange +age. God knows what the angels made of it. But at any rate Peter was +honest. He thought of Julie, and he would not cast a stone. + +There came a light knock at the door. The girl disregarded it, and ran to +him. "You will come again?" she said in low tones. "Promise me that you +will! I will not ask you for anything; you can do as you please; but come +again! Do come again!" + +Peter passed his hand over her hair. "I will come if I can," he said; +"but the Lord knows why." + +The knock came again, a little louder. The girl smiled and held her face +up. "Kiss me," she demanded. + +He complied, and she darted away, fumbling with her dress. "I come," she +called, and opened the door. Lucienne and Pennell came in, and the two +men exchanged glances. Then Pennell looked away. Lucienne glanced at them +and shrugged her shoulders. "Come, Graham," said Pennell; "let's get out! +Good-bye, you two." + +The pair of them went down and out in silence. No one had seen them come, +and there was no one to see them go. Peter glanced at the number and made +a mental note of it, and they set off down the street. + +Presently Pennell laughed, "I played you a dirty trick, Graham," he said, +"I'm sorry." + +"You needn't be," said Peter; "I'm very glad I went." + +"Why?" said Pennell curiously, glancing sideways at him. "You _are_ a +queer fellow, Graham." But there was a note of relief in his tone. + +Peter said nothing, but walked on. "Where next?" demanded Pennell. + +"It looks as if you are directing this outfit," said Peter; "I'm in your +hands." + +"All right," said Pennell; "I know." + +They took a street running parallel to the docks, and entered an American +bar. Peter glanced round curiously. "I've never been here before," he +said. + +"Probably not," said Pennell. "It's not much at this time of the year, +but jolly cool in the summer. And you can get first-class cocktails. I +want something now; what's yours?" + +"I'll leave it to you," said Peter. + +He sat down at a little table rather in the corner and lit a cigarette. +The place was well lighted, and by means of mirrors, coloured-glass +ornaments, paper decorations, and a few palms, it looked in its own way +smart. Two or three officers were drinking at the bar, sitting on high +stools, and Pennell went up to give his order. He brought two glasses +to Peter's table and sat down. "What fools we are, padre!" he said. "I +sometimes think that the man who gets simply and definitely tight when he +feels he wants a breather is wiser than most of us. We drink till we're +excited, and then we drink to get over it. And I suppose the devil sits +and grins. Well, it's a weary world, and there isn't any good road out of +it. I sometimes wish I'd stopped a bullet earlier on in the day. And yet +I don't know. We do get some excitement. Let's go to a music-hall +to-night." + +"What about dinner?" + +"Oh, get a quiet one in a decent hotel. I'll have to clear out at +half-time if you don't mind." + +"Not a bit," said Peter. "Half will be enough for me, I think. But let's +have dinner before we've had more of these things." + +The bar was filling up. A few girls came and went. Pennell nodded to a +man or two, and finished his glass. And they went off to dinner. + +The music-hall was not much of a show, but it glittered, and people +obviously enjoyed it. Peter watched the audience as much as the stage. +Quite respectable French families were there, and there was nothing done +that might not have been done on an English stage--perhaps less, but the +words were different. The women as well as the men screamed with +laughter, flushed of face, but an old fellow, with his wife and daughter, +obviously from the country, sat as stiffly as an English farmer through +it all. The daughter glanced once at the two officers, but then looked +away; she was well brought up. A half-caste Algerian, probably, came +on and danced really extraordinarily well, and a negro from the States, +equally ready in French and English, sang songs which the audience +demanded. He was entirely master, however, and, conscious of his power, +used it. No one in the place seemed to have heard of the colour-bar, +except a couple of Americans, who got up and walked out when the comedian +clasped a white girl round the waist in one of his songs. The negro made +some remark that Peter couldn't catch, and the place shook with laughter. + +At half-time everyone flocked into a queer kind of semi-underground hall +whose walls were painted to represent a cave, dingy cork festoons and +"rocks" adding to the illusion. Here, at long tables, everyone drank +innocuous French beer, that was really quite cool and good. It was rather +like part of an English bank holiday. Everybody spoke to everybody else, +and there were no classes and distinctions. You could only get one glass +of beer, for the simple reason that there were too many drinking and too +few supplying the drinks for more in the time. + +"I must go," said Pennell, "but don't you bother to come." + +"Oh yes, I will," said Peter, and they got up together. + +In the entrance-hall, however, a girl was apparently waiting for someone, +and as they passed Peter recognised her. "Louise!" he exclaimed. + +She smiled and held out her hand. Peter took it, and Pennell after him. + +"Do you go now?" she asked them. "The concert is not half finished." + +"I've got to get back to work," said Pennell, "worse luck. It is la +guerre, you know!" + +"Poor boy!" said she gaily. "And you?" turning to Peter. + +Moved by an impulse, he shook his head. "No," he said, "I was only seeing +him home." + +"Bien! See me home instead, then," said Louise. + +"Nothing doing," said Peter, using a familiar phrase. + +She laughed. "Bah! cannot a girl have friends without that, eh? You have +a fiancée, 'ave you not? Oh yes, I remember--I remember very well. Come! +I have done for to-day; I am tired. I will make you some coffee, and we +shall talk. Is it not so?" + +Peter looked at Pennell. "Do you mind, Pen?" he asked. "I'd rather like +to." + +"Not a scrap," said the other cheerfully; "wish I could come too. Ask me +another day, Louise, will you?" + +She regarded him with her head a little on one side. "I do not know," she +said. "I do not think you would talk with me as he will. You like what +you can get from the girls of France now; but after, no more. Monsieur, +'e is different. He want not quite the same. Oh, I know! Allons." + +Pennell shrugged his shoulders. "One for me," he said. "Well, good-night. +I hope you both enjoy yourselves." + +In five minutes Peter and Louise were walking together down the street. A +few passers-by glanced at them, or especially at her, but she took no +notice, and Peter, in a little, felt the strangeness of it all much less. +He deliberately crossed once or twice to get between her and the road, as +he would have done with a lady, and moved slightly in front of her when +they encountered two drunken men. She chatted about nothing in +particular, and Peter thought to himself that he might almost have been +escorting Hilda home. But if Hilda had seen him! + +She ushered him into her flat. It was cosy and nicely furnished, very +different from that of the afternoon. A photograph or two stood about in +silver frames, a few easy-chairs, a little table, a bookshelf, and a +cupboard. A fire was alight in the grate; Louise knelt down and poked it +into a flame. + +"You shall have French coffee," she said. "And I have even lait for you." +She put a copper kettle on the fire, and busied herself with cups and +saucers. These she arranged on the little table, and drew it near the +fire. Then she offered him a cigarette from a gold case, and took one +herself. "Ah!" she said, sinking back into a chair. "Now we are, as you +say, comfy, is it not so? We can talk. Tell me how you like la France, +and what you do." + +Peter tried, but failed rather miserably, and the shrewd French girl +noticed it easily enough. She all but interrupted him as he talked of +Abbeville and the raid. "Mon ami," she said, "you have something on your +mind. You do not want to talk of these things. Tell me." + +Peter looked into the kindly keen eyes. "You are right, Louise," he said. +"This is a day of trouble for me." + +She nodded. "Tell me," she said again. "But first, what is your name, mon +ami? It is hard to talk if one does not know even the name." + +He hardly hesitated. It seemed natural to say it. "Peter," he said. + +She smiled, rolling the "r." "Peterr. Well, Peterr, go on." + +"I'll tell you about to-day first," he said, and, once launched, did so +easily. He told the little story well, and presently forgot the strange +surroundings. It was all but a confession, and surely one was never more +strangely made. And from the story he spoke of Julie, but concealed her +identity, and then he spoke of God. Louise hardly said a word. She poured +out coffee in the middle, but that was all. At last he finished. + +"Louise," he said, "it comes to this: I've nothing left but Julie. It was +she restrained me this afternoon, I think. I'm mad for her; I want her +and nothing else. But with her, somehow, I lose everything else I possess +or ever thought I possessed." And he stopped abruptly, for she did not +know his business in life, and he had almost given it away. + +When he had finished she slipped a hand into his, and said no word. +Suddenly she looked up. "Peterr, mon ami," she said, "listen to me. I +will tell you the story of Louise, of me. My father, he lived--oh, it +matters not; but he had some money, he was not poor. I went to a good +school, and I came home for the holidays. I had one sister older than +me. Presently I grew up; I learnt much; I noticed. I saw there were +terrible things, chez nous. My mother did not care, but I--I cared. I was +mad. I spoke to my sister: it was no good. I spoke to my father, and, +truly, I thought he would kill me. He beat me--ah, terrible--and I ran +from the house. I wept under the hedges: I said I would no more go 'ome. +I come to a big city. I found work in a big shop--much work, little +money--ah, how little! Then I met a friend: he persuade me, at last he +keep me--two months, three, or more; then comes the war. He is an +officer, and he goes. We kiss, we part--oui, he love me, that officer. I +pray for him: I think I nevair leave the church; but it is no good. He is +dead. Then I curse le bon Dieu. They know me in that place: I can do +nothing unless I will go to an 'otel--to be for the officers, you +understand? I say, Non. I sell my things and I come here. Here I do +well--you understand? I am careful; I have now my home. But this is what +I tell you, Peterr: one does wrong to curse le bon Dieu. He is wise--ah, +how wise!--it is not for me to say. And good--ah, Jesu! how good! You +think I do not know; I, how should I know? But I know. I do not +understand. For me, I am caught; I am like the bird in the cage. I cannot +get out. So I smile, I laugh--and I wait." + +She ceased. Peter was strangely moved, and he pressed the hand he held +almost fiercely. The tragedy of her life seemed so great that he hardly +dare speak of his own. But: "What has it to do with me?" he demanded. + +She gave a little laugh. "'Ow should I say?" she said. "But you think God +not remember you, and, Peterr, He remember all the time." + +"And Julie?" quizzed Peter after a moment. + +Louise shrugged her shoulders. "This love," she said, "it is one great +thing. For us women it is perhaps the only great thing, though your +English women are blind, are dead, they do not see. Julie, she is as us, +I think. She is French inside. La pauvre petite, she is French in the +heart." + +"Well?" demanded Peter again. + +"C'est tout, mon ami. But I am sorry for Julie." + +"Louise," said Peter impulsively, "you're better than I--a thousand +times. I don't know how to thank you." And he lifted her hand to his +lips. + +He hardly touched it. She sprang up, withdrawing it. "Ah, non, non," +she cried. "You must not. You forget. It is easy for you, for you are +good--yes, so good. You think I did not notice in the street, but I see. +You treat me like a lady, and now you kiss my hand, the hand of the girl +of the street.... Non, non!" she protested vehemently, her eyes alight. +"I would kiss your feet!" + +Outside, in the darkened street, Peter walked slowly home. At the gate of +the camp he met Arnold, returning from a visit to another mess. "Hullo!" +he called to Peter, "and where have you been?" + +Peter looked at him for a moment without replying. "_I'm_ not sure, but +seeing for the first time a little of what Christ saw, Arnold, I think," +he said at last, with a catch in his voice. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Looking back on them afterwards, Peter saw the months that followed as a +time of waiting between two periods of stress. Not, of course, that +anyone can ever stand still, for even if one does but sit by a fire and +warm one's hands, things happen, and one is imperceptibly led forward. It +was so in this case, but, not unnaturally, Graham hardly noticed in what +way his mind was moving. He had been through a period of storm, and he +had to a certain extent emerged from it. The men he had met, and above +all Julie, had been responsible for the opening of his eyes to facts that +he had before passed over, and it was entirely to his credit that he +would not refuse to accept them and act upon them. But once he had +resolved to do so things, as it were, slowed down. He went about his work +in a new spirit, the spirit not of the teacher, but of the learner, and +ever since his talk with Louise he thought--or tried to think--more of +what love might mean to Julie than to himself. The result was a curious +change in their relations, of which the girl was more immediately and +continually conscious than Peter. She puzzled over it, but could not get +the clue, and her quest irritated her. Peter had always been the least +little bit nervous in her presence. She had known that he never knew what +she would do or say next, and her knowledge had amused and carried her +away. But now he was so self-possessed. Very friendly they were, and they +met often--in the ward for a few sentences that meant much to each of +them; down town by arrangement in a cafe, or once or twice for dinner; +and once for a day in the country, though not alone; and he was always +the same. Sometimes, on night duty, she would grope for an adjective to +fit him, and could only think of "tender." He was that. And she hated it, +or all but hated it. She did not want tenderness from him, for it seemed +to her that tenderness meant that he was, as it were, standing aloof from +her, considering, helping when he could. She demanded the fierce rush of +passion with which he would seize and shrine her in the centre of his +heart, deaf to her entreaties, careless of her pain. She would love then, +she thought, and sometimes, going to the window of the ward and staring +out over the harbour at the twinkling lights, she would bite her lip with +the pain of it. He had thought she dismissed love lightly when she called +it animal passion. Good God, if he only knew!... + +Peter, for his part, did not realise so completely the change that had +come over him. For one thing, he saw himself all the time, and she did +not. She did not see him when he lay on his bed in a tense agony of +desire for her. She did not see him when life looked like a tumbled heap +of ruins to him and she smiled beyond. She all but only saw him when he +was staring at the images that had been presented to him during the past +months, or hearing in imagination Louise's quaintly accepted English and +her quick and vivid "La pauvre petite!" + +For it was Louise, curiously enough, who affected him most in these days. +A friendship sprang up between them of which no one knew. Pennell and +Donovan, with whom he went everywhere, did not speak of it either to him +or to one another, with that real chivalry that is in most men, but if +they had they would have blundered, misunderstanding. Arnold, of whom +Peter saw a good deal, did not know, or, if he knew, Peter never knew +that he knew. Julie, who was well aware of his friendship with the two +first men, knew that he saw French girls, and, indeed, openly chaffed +him about it. But under her chaff was an anxiety, typical of her. She did +not know how far he went in their company, and she would have given +anything to know. She guessed that, despite everything, he had had no +physical relationship with any one of them, and she almost wished it +might be otherwise. She knew well that if he fell to them, he would the +more readily turn to her. There was a strength about him now that she +dreaded. + +Whatever Louise thought she kept wonderfully hidden. He took her out to +dinner in quiet places, and she would take him home to coffee, and they +would chat, and there was an end. She was seemingly well content. She did +her business, and they would even speak of it. "I cannot come to-night, +mon ami," she would say; "I am busy." She would nod to him as she passed +out of the restaurant with someone else, and he would smile back at her. +Nor did he ever remonstrate or urge her to change her ways. And she +knew why. He had no key with which to open her cage. + +Once, truly, he attempted it, and it was she who refused the glittering +thing. He rarely came uninvited to her flat, for obvious reasons; but one +night she heard him on the stairs as she got ready for bed. He was +walking unsteadily, and she thought at first that he had been drinking. +She opened to him with the carelessness her life had taught her, her +costume off, and her black hair all about her shoulders. "Go in and wait, +Peterr," she said; "I come." + +She had slipped on a coloured silk wrap, and gone in to the sitting-room +to find him pacing up and down. She smiled. "Sit down, mon ami," she +said; "I will make the coffee. See, it is ready. Mais vraiment, you shall +drink café noir to-night. And one leetle glass of this--is it not so?" +and she took a green bottle of peppermint liqueur from the cupboard. + +"Coffee, Louise," he said, "but not the other. I don't want it." + +She turned and looked more closely at him then. "Non," she said, "pardon. +But sit you down. Am I to have the wild beast prowling up and down in my +place?" + +"That's just it, Louise," he cried; "I am a wild beast to-night. I can't +stand it any longer. Kiss me." + +He put his arms round her, and bent her head back, studying her French +and rather inscrutable eyes, her dark lashes, her mobile mouth, her long +white throat. He put his hand caressingly upon it, and slid his fingers +beneath the loose lace that the open wrap exposed. "Dear," he said, "I +want you to-night." + +"To-night, chérie?" she questioned. + +"Yes, now," he said hotly. "And why not? You give to other men--why not +to me, Louise?" + +She freed herself with a quick gesture, and, brave heart, she laughed +merrily. The devil must have started at that laugh, and the angels of God +sung for joy. "Ah, non," she cried, "It is the mistake you make. I _sell_ +myself to other men. But you--you are my friend; I cannot sell myself to +you." + +He did not understand altogether why she quibbled; how should he have +done? But lie was ashamed. He slid into the familiar chair and ran his +fingers through his hair. "Forgive me, dear," he muttered. "I think I am +mad to-night, but I am not drunk, as you thought, except with worrying. +I feel lost, unclean, body and soul, and I thought you would help me to +forget--no, more than that, help me to feel a man. Can't you, won't you?" +he demanded, looking up. "I am tired of play-acting. I've a body, like +other men. Let me plunge down deep to-night, Louise. It will do me good, +and it doesn't matter. That girl was right after all. Oh, what a fool I +am!" + +Then did the girl of the streets set out to play her chosen part. She did +not preach at all--how could she? Besides, neither had she any use for +the Ten Commandments. But if ever Magdalene broke an alabaster-box of +very precious ointment, Louise did so that night. She was worldly wise, +and she did not disdain to use her wisdom. And when he had gone she got +calmly into bed, and slept--not all at once, it is true, but as +resolutely as she had laughed and talked. It was only when she woke in +the morning that she found her pillow wet with tears. + +It was a few days later that Louise took Peter to church. His ignorance +of her religion greatly amused her, or so at least she pretended, and +when he asked her to come out of town to lunch one morning, and she +refused because it was Corpus Christi, and she wanted to go to the sung +Mass, it was he who suggested that he should go with her. She looked at +him queerly a moment, and then agreed. They met outside the church and +went in together, as strange a pair as ever the meshes of that ancient +net which gathers of all kinds had ever drawn towards the shore. + +Louise led him to a central seat, and found the place for him in her +Prayer-Book. The building was full, and Peter glanced about him +curiously. The detachment of the worshippers impressed him immensely. +There did not appear to be any proscribed procedure among them, and even +when the Mass began he was one of the few who stood and knelt as the +rubrics of the service directed. Louise made no attempt to do so. For the +most part she knelt, and her beads trickled ceaselessly through her +fingers. + +Peter was, if anything, bored by the Mass, though he would not admit it +to himself. It struck him as being a ratherly poorly played performance. +True, the officiating ministers moved and spoke with a calm regularity +which impressed him, familiar as he was with clergymen who gave out hymns +and notices, and with his own solicitude at home that the singing should +go well or that the choirboys should not fidget. But there was a terrible +confusion with chairs, and a hideous kind of clapper that was used, +apparently, to warn the boys to sit and rise. The service, moreover, as a +reverential congregational act of worship such as he was used to hope +for, was marred by innumerable collections, and especially by the old +woman who came round even during the _Sanctus_ to collect the rent of the +chairs they occupied, and changed money or announced prices with all the +zest of the market-place. + +But at the close there was a procession which is worth considerable +description. Six men with censers of silver lined up before the high +altar, and stood there, slowly swinging the fragrant bowls at the end of +their long chains. The music died down. One could hear the rhythmical, +faint clangour of the metal. And then, intensely sudden, away in the west +gallery, but almost as if from the battlements of heaven, pealed out +silver trumpets in a fanfare. The censers flew high in time with it, and +the sweet clouds of smoke, caught by the coloured sunlight of the rich +painted windows, unfolded in the air of the sanctuary. Lights moved and +danced, and the space before the altar filled with the white of the men +and boys who should move in the procession. Again and again those +trumpets rang out, and hardly had the last echoes died away than the +organ thundered the _Pange Lingua_, as a priest in cloth of gold turned +from the altar with the glittering monstrance in his hand. Even from +where he stood Peter could see the white centre of the Host for Whom +all this was enacted. Then the canopy, borne by four French laymen in +frock-coats and white gloves, hid It from his sight; and the high gold +cross, and its attendant tapers, swung round a great buttress into view. + +Peter had never heard a hymn sung so before. First the organ would peal +alone; then the men's voices unaided would take up the refrain; then the +organ again; then the clear treble of the boys; then, like waves breaking +on immemorial cliffs, organ, trumpets, boys, men, and congregation would +thunder out together till the blood raced in his veins and his eyes were +too dim to see. + +Down the central aisle at last they came, and Peter knelt with the rest. +He saw how the boys went before throwing flowers; how in pairs, as the +censers were recharged, the thurifers walked backward before the three +beneath the canopy, of whom one, white-haired and old, bore That in +the monstrance which all adored. In music and light and colour and scent +the Host went by, as It had gone for centuries in that ancient place, and +Peter knew, all bewildered as he was, there, by the side of the girl, +that a new vista was opening before his eyes. + +It was not that he understood as yet, or scarcely so. In a few minutes +all had passed them, and he rose and turned to see the end. He watched +while, amid the splendour of that court, with singers and ministers and +thurifers arranged before, the priest ascended to enthrone the Sacrament +in the place prepared for It. With banks of flowers behind, and the +glitter of electric as well as of candle light, the jewelled rays of the +monstrance gleaming and the organ pealing note on note in a triumphant +ecstasy, the old, bent priest placed That he carried there, and sank down +before It. Then all sound of singing and of movement died away, and from +that kneeling crowd one lone, thin voice, but all unshaken, cried to +Heaven of the need of men. It was a short prayer and he could not +understand it, but it seemed to Peter to voice his every need, and to go +on and on till it reached the Throne. The "Amen" beat gently about him, +and he sank his face in his hands. + +But only for a second. The next he was lifted to his feet. All that had +gone before was as nothing to this volume of praise that shook, it seemed +to him, the very carven roof above and swept the ancient walls in waves +of sound. + +_Adoremus in aeternum Sanctissimum Sacramentum_, cried men on earth, and, +as it seemed to him, the very angels of God. + +But outside he collected his thoughts. "Well," he said. "I'm glad I've +been, but I shan't go again." + +"Why not?" demanded Louise. "It was most beautiful. I have never 'eard it +better." + +"Oh yes, it was," said Peter; "the music and singing were wonderful, +but--forgive me if I hurt you, but I can't help saying it--I see now what +our people mean when they say it is nothing less than idolatry." + +"Idolatry?" queried Louise, stumblingly and bewildered. "But what do you +mean?" + +"Well," said Peter, "the Sacrament is, of course, a holy thing, a very +holy thing, the sign and symbol of Christ Himself, but in that church +sign and symbol were forgotten; the Sacrament was worshipped as if it +were very God." + +"Oui, oui," protested Louise vehemently, "It is. It is le bon Jesu. It is +He who is there. He passed by us among them all, as we read He went +through the crowds of Jerusalem in the holy Gospel. And there was not one +He did not see, either," she added, with a little break in her voice. + +Peter all but stopped in the road. It was absurd that so simple a thing +should have seemed to him new, but it is so with us all. We know in a +way, but we do not understand, and then there comes the moment of +illumination--sometimes. + +"Jesus Himself!" he exclaimed, and broke off abruptly. He recalled a +fragment of speech: "Not a dead man, not a man on the right hand of the +throne of God." But "He can't be found," Langton had said. Was it so? He +walked on in silence. What if Louise, with her pitiful story and her +caged, earthy life, had after all found what the other had missed? He +pulled himself together; it was too good to be true. + +One day Louise asked him abruptly if he had been to see the girl in +the house which he had visited with Pennell. He told her no, and she +said--they had met by chance in the town--"Well, go you immediately, +then, or you will not see her." + +"What do you mean?" he asked. "Is she ill--dying?" + +"Ah, non, not dying, but she is ill. They will take her to a 'ospital +to-morrow. But this afternoon she will be in bed. She like to see you, +I think." + +Peter left her and made for the house. On his way he thought of +something, and took a turning which led to the market-place of flowers. +There, at a stall, he bought a big bunch of roses and some sprays of +asparagus fern, and set off again. Arriving, he found the door shut. It +was a dilemma, for he did not even know the girl's name, but he knocked. + +A grim-faced woman opened the door and stared at him and his flowers. "I +think there is a girl sick here," said Peter. "May I see her?" + +The woman stared still harder, and he thought she was going to refuse him +admission, but at length she gave way. "Entrez," she said. "Je pense que +vous savez le chambre. Mais, le bouquet--c'est incroyable." + +Peter went up the stairs and knocked at the door. A voice asked who was +there, and he smiled because he could not say. The girl did not know his +name, either. "A friend," he said: "May I come in?" + +A note of curiosity sounded in her voice. "Oui, certainement. Entrez," +she called. Peter turned the handle and entered the remembered room. + +The girl was sitting up in bed in her nightdress, her hair in disorder, +and the room felt hot and stuffy and looked more tawdry than ever. She +exclaimed at the sight of his flowers. He deposited the big bunch by the +side of her, and seated himself on the edge of the bed. She had been +reading a book, and he noticed it was the sort of book that Langton and +he had seen so prominently in the book-shop at Abbeville. + +If he had expected to find her depressed or ashamed, he was entirely +mistaken. "Oh, you darling," she cried in clipped English. "Kiss me, +quick, or I will forget the orders of the doctor and jump out of bed and +catch you. Oh, that you should bring me the rose so beautiful! Hélas! I +may not wear one this night in the café! See, are they not beautiful +here?" + +She pulled her nightdress open considerably more than the average evening +dress is cut away and put two or three of the blooms on her white bosom, +putting her head on one side to see the result. "Oui," she exclaimed, "je +suis exquise! To-night I 'ave so many boys I do not know what to do! But +I forget: I cannot go. Je suis malade, très malade. You knew? You are +angry with me--is it not so?" + +He laughed; there was nothing else to do. "No," he said; "why should I +be? But I am very sorry." + +She shrugged her shoulders. "It is nothing," she said. "C'est la guerre +for me. I shall not be long, and when I come out you will come to see me +again, will you not? And bring me more flowers? And you shall not let me +'ave the danger any more, and if I do wrong you shall smack me 'ard. +Per'aps you will like that. In the books men like it much. Would you like +to whip me?" she demanded, her eyes sparkling as she threw herself over +in the bed and looked up at him. + +Peter got up and moved away to the window. "No," he said shortly, staring +out. He had a sensation of physical nausea, and it was as much as he +could do to restrain himself. He realised, suddenly, that he was in the +presence of the world, the flesh, and the devil's final handiwork. Only +his new knowledge kept him quiet. Even she might be little to blame. He +remembered all that she had said to him before, and suddenly his disgust +was turned into overwhelming pity. This child before him--for she was +little more than a child--had bottomed degradation. For the temporary +protection and favour of a man that she guessed to be kind there was +nothing in earth or in hell that she would not do. And in her already +were the seeds of the disease that was all but certain to slay her. + +He turned again to the bed, and knelt beside it. "Poor little girl," he +said, and lightly brushed her hair. He certainly never expected the +result. + +She pushed him from her. "Oh, go, go!" she cried. "Quick go! You pretend, +but you do not love me. Why you give me money, the flowers, if you do not +want me? Go quick. Come never to see me again!" + +Peter did the only thing he could do; he went. "Good-bye," he said +cheerfully at the door. "I hope you will be better soon. I didn't mean to +be a beast to you. Give the flowers to Lucienne if you don't want them; +she will be able to wear them to-night. Cheerio. Good-bye-ee!" + +"Good-bye-ee!" she echoed after him. And he closed the door on her life. + +In front of the Hôtel de Ville he met Arnold, returning from the club, +and the two men walked off together. In a moment of impulse he related +the whole story to him. "Now," he said, "what do you make of all that?" + +Arnold was very moved. It was not his way to say much, but he walked on +silently for a long time. Then he said: "The Potter makes many vessels, +but never one needlessly. I hold on to that. And He can remake the broken +clay." + +"Are you sure?" asked Peter. + +"I am," said Arnold. "It's not in the Westminster Confession, nor in the +Book of Common Prayer, nor, for all I know, in the Penny Catechism, but I +believe it. God Almighty must be stronger than the devil, Graham." + +Peter considered this. Then he shook his head. "That won't wash, Arnold," +he said. "If God is stronger than the devil, so that the devil is never +ultimately going to succeed, I can see no use in letting him have his +fling at all. And I've more respect for the devil than to think he'd take +it. It's childish to suppose the existence of two such forces at a +perpetual game of cheat. Either there is no devil and there is no +hell--in which case I reckon that there is no heaven either, for a heaven +would not be a heaven if it were not attained, and there would be no true +attainment if there were no possibility of failure--or else there are all +three. And if there are all three, the devil wins out, sometimes, in the +end." + +"Then, God is not almighty?" + +Peter shrugged his shoulders. "If I breed white mice, I don't lessen my +potential power if I choose to let some loose in the garden to see if the +cat will get them. Besides, in the end I could annihilate the cat if I +wanted to." + +"You can't think of God so," cried Arnold sharply. + +"Can't I?" demanded Peter. "Well, maybe not, Arnold; I don't know that I +can think of Him at all. But I can face the facts of life, and if I'm not +a coward, I shan't run away from them. That's what I've been doing these +days, and that's what I do not think even a man like yourself does +fairly. You think, I take it, that a girl like that is damned utterly by +all the canons of theology, and then, forced on by pity and tenderness, +you cry out against them all that she is God's making and He will not +throw her away. Is that it?" + +Arnold slightly evaded an answer. "How can you save her, Graham?" he +asked. + +"I can't. I don't pretend I can. I've nothing to say or do. I see only +one flicker of hope, and that lies in the fact that she doesn't +understand what love is. No shadow of the truth has ever come her way. +If now, by any chance, she could see for one instant--in _fact_, mind +you--the face of God.... If God is Love," he added. They walked a dozen +paces. "And even then she might refuse," he said. + +"Whose fault would that be?" demanded the older man. + +Peter answered quickly, "Whose fault? Why, all our faults--yours and +mine, and the fault of men like Pennell and Donovan, as well as her own, +too, as like as not. We've all helped build up the scheme of things as +they are, and we are all responsible. We curse the Germans for making +this damned war, and it is the war that has done most to make that girl; +but they didn't make it. No Kaiser made it, and no Nietzsche. The only +person who had no hand in it that I know of was Jesus Christ." + +"And those who have left all and followed Him," said Arnold softly. + +"Precious few," retorted Peter. + +The other had nothing to say. + + * * * * * + +During these months Peter wrote often to Hilda, and with increasing +frankness. Her replies grew shorter as his letters grew longer. It was +strange, perhaps, that he should continue to write, but the explanation +was not far to seek. It was by her that he gauged the extent of his +separation from the old outlook, and in her that he still clung, +desperately, as it were, to the past. Against reason he elevated her +into a kind of test position, and if her replies gave him no +encouragement, they at least served to make him feel the inevitableness +and the reality of his present position. It would have been easy to get +into the swim and let it carry him carelessly on--moderately easy, at any +rate. But with Hilda to refer to he was forced to take notice, and it was +she, therefore, that hastened the end. Just after Christmas, in a fit of +temporary boldness, he told her about Louise, so that it was Louise again +who was the responsible person during these months. Hilda's reply was +delayed, nor had she written immediately. When he got it, it was brief +but to the point. She did not doubt, she said, but that what he had +written was strictly true, and she did not doubt his honour. But he must +see that their relationship was impossible. She couldn't marry the man +who appeared actually to like the company of such a woman, nor could she +do other than feel that the end would seem to him as plain as it did to +her, and that he would leave the Church, or at any rate such a ministry +in it as she could share. She had told her people that she was no longer +engaged in order that he should feel free, but she would ever remember +the man as she had known him, whom she had loved, and whom she loved +still. + +It was in the afternoon that Peter got the letter, and he was just +setting off for the hospital. When he had read it, he put on his cap and +set off in the opposite direction. There was a walk along the sea-wall a +few feet wide, where the wind blew strongly laden with the Channel +breezes, and on the other side was a waste of sand and stone. In some +places water was on both sides of the wall, and here one could feel more +alone than anywhere else in the town. + +Peter set off, his head in a mad whirl. He had felt that such a letter +would come for weeks, but that did not, in a way, lessen the blow when it +came. He had known, too, that Hilda was not to him what she had been, but +he had not altogether felt that she never could be so again. Now he knew +that he had gone too far to turn back. He felt, he could not help it, +released in a sense, with almost a sense of exhilaration behind it, for +the unknown lay before. And yet, since we are all so human, he was +intensely unhappy below all this. He called to mind little scenes and +bits of scenes: their first meeting; the sight of her in church as he +preached; how she had looked at the dining-table in Park Lane; her walk +as she came to meet him in the park. And he knew well enough how he had +hurt her, and the thought maddened him. He told himself that God was a +devil to treat him so; that he had tried to follow the right; and that +the way had led him down towards nothing but despair. He was no nearer +answering the problems that beset him. He might have been in a fool's +paradise before, but what was the use of coming out to see the devil as +he was and men and women as they were if he could see no more than that? +The throne of his heart was empty, and there was none to fill it. + +Julie? + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The sea-wall ended not far from Donovan's camp of mud and cinders, and +having got there, Peter thought he would go on and get a cup of tea. He +crossed the railway-lines, steered through a great American rest camp, +crossed the canal, and entered the camp. It was a cheerless place in +winter, and the day was drawing in early with a damp fog. A great French +airship was cruising around overhead and dropping down towards her +resting-place in the great hangar near by. She looked cold and ghostly up +aloft, the more so when her engines were shut off, and Peter thought how +chilly her crew must be. He had a hankering after Donovan's cheery +humour, especially as he had not seen him for some time. He crossed the +camp and made for the mess-room. + +It was lit and the curtains were drawn, and, at the door, he stopped dead +at the sound of laughter. Then he walked quickly in. "Caught out, by +Jove!" said Donovan's voice. "You're for it, Julie." + +A merry party sat round the stove, taking tea. Julie and Miss Raynard +were both there, with Pennell and another man from Donovan's camp. Julie +wore furs and had plainly just come in, for her cheeks were glowing with +exercise. Pennell was sitting next Miss Raynard, but Donovan, on a +wooden camp-seat, just beyond where Julie sat in a big cushioned chair, +looked out at him from almost under Julie's arm, as he bent forward. The +other man was standing by the table, teapot in hand. + +One thinks quickly at such a time, and Peter's mind raced. Something of +the old envy and almost fear of Donovan that he had had first that day in +the hospital came back to him. He had not seen the two together for so +long that it struck him like a blow to hear Donovan call her by her +Christian name. It flashed across his mind also that she knew that it +was his day at the hospital, and that she had deliberately gone out; but +it dawned on him equally quickly that he must hide all that. + +"I should jolly well think so," he said, laughing. "How do you do, Miss +Raynard? Donovan, can you give me some tea? I've come along the sea-wall, +and picked up a regular appetite. Are you in the habit of taking tea +here, Julie? I thought nurses were not allowed in camps." + +She looked at him quickly, but he missed the meaning of her glance. +"Rather," she said; "I come here for tea about once a week, don't I, +Jack? No, nurses are not allowed in camps, but I always do what's not +allowed as far as possible. And this is so snug and out of the way. Mr. +Pennell, you can give me a cigarette now." + +The other man offered Peter tea, which he took. "And how did the +festivities go off at Christmas?" he asked. + +"Oh, topping," said Julie. "Let me see, you were at the play, so I +needn't talk about that; but you thought it good, didn't you?" + +"Rippin'" said Peter. + +"Well," said Julie, "then there was the dance on Boxing Night. We had +glorious fun. Jack, here, behaved perfectly abominably. He sat out about +half the dances, and I should think he kissed every pretty girl in the +room. Then we went down to the nurses' quarters of the officers' hospital +and made cocoa of all things, and had a few more dances on our own. They +made me dance a skirt dance on the table, and as I had enough laces on +this time, I did. After that--but I don't think I'll tell you what we did +after that. Why didn't you come?" + +Peter had been at a big Boxing Night entertainment for the troops in the +Y.M.C.A. Central Hall, but he did not say so. "Oh," he said, "I had to go +to another stunt, but I must say I wish I'd been at yours. May I have +another cup of tea?" + +The third man gave it to him again, and then, apologizing, left the room. +Donovan exchanged glances with Julie, and she nodded. + +"I say, Graham," said Donovan, "I'll tell you what we've really met here +for to-day. We were going to fix it up and then ask you; but as you've +dropped in, we'll take it as a dispensation of Providence and let you +into the know. What do you say to a really sporting dinner at the New +Year?" + +"Who's to be asked?" queried Peter, looking round. "Fives into a dinner +won't go." + +"I should think not," cried Julie gaily. "Jack, here, is taking me, +aren't you?" Donovan said "I am" with great emphasis, and made as if he +would kiss her, and she pushed him off, laughing, holding her muff to his +face. Then she went on: "You're to take Tommy. It is Tommy's own +particular desire, and you ought to feel flattered. She says your auras +blend, whatever that may be; and as to Mr. Pennell, he's got a girl +elsewhere whom he will ask. Three and three make six; what do you think +of that?" + +"Julie," said Tommy Raynard composedly, "you're the most fearful liar +I've ever met. But I trust Captain Graham knows you well enough by now." + +"I do," said Peter, but a trifle grimly, though he tried not to show +it--"I do. I must say I'm jolly glad Donovan will be responsible for you. +It's going to be 'some' evening, I can see, and what you'll do if you get +excited I don't know. Flirt with the proprietor and have his wife down on +us, as like as not. In which event it's Donovan who'll have to make the +explanations. But come on, what are the details?" + +"Tell him, Jack," said Julie. "He's a perfect beast, and I shan't speak +to him again." + +Peter laughed. "Pas possible," he said. "But come on, Donovan; do as +you're told." + +"Well, old bird," said Donovan, "first we meet here. Got that? It's safer +than any other camp, and we don't want to meet in town. We'll have tea +and a chat and then clear off. We'll order dinner in a private room at +the Grand, and it'll be a dinner fit for the occasion. They've got some +priceless sherry there, and some old white port. Cognac fine champagne +for the liqueur, and what date do you think?--1835 as I'm alive. I saw +some the other day, and spoke about it. That gave me the idea of the +dinner really, and I put it to the old horse that that brandy was worthy +of a dinner to introduce it. He tumbled at once. Veuve Cliquot as the +main wine. What about it?" + +Peter balanced himself on the back of his chair and blew out +cigarette-smoke. + +"What time are you ordering the ambulances?" he demanded. + +"The beds, you mean," cried Julie, entirely forgetting her last words. +"That's what I say. _I_ shall never be able to walk to a taxi even." + +"I'll carry you," said Donovan. + +"You won't be able, not after such a night; besides, I don't believe you +could, anyhow. You're getting flabby from lack of exercise." + +"Am I?" cried Donovan. "Let's see, anyway." + +He darted at her, slipped an arm under her skirts and another under her +arms, and lifted her bodily from the chair. + +"Jack," she shrieked, "put me down! Oh, you beast! Tommy, help, help! +Peter, make him put me down and I'll forgive you all you've said." + +Tommy Raynard sprang up, laughing, and ran after Donovan, who could not +escape her. She threw an arm round his neck and bent his head backwards. +"I shall drop her," he shouted. Peter leaped forward, and Julie landed in +his arms. + +For a second she lay still, and Peter stared down at her. With her quick +intuition she read something new in his eyes, and instantly looked away, +scrambling out and standing there flushed and breathing hard, her hands +at her hair. "You perfect brute!" she said to Donovan, laughing. "I'll +pay you out, see if I don't. All my hair's coming down." + +"Capital!" said Donovan. "I've never seen it down, and I'd love to. Here, +let me help." + +He darted at her; she dodged behind Peter; he adroitly put out a foot, +and Donovan collapsed into the big chair. + +Julie clapped her hands and rushed at him, seizing a cushion, and the two +struggled there till Tommy Raynard pulled Julie forcibly away. + +"Julie," she said, "this is a positive bear-garden. You must behave." + +"And I," said Pennell, who had not moved, "would like to know a little +more about the dinner." He spoke so dryly that they all laughed, and +order was restored. Donovan, however, refused to get out of the big +chair, and Julie deliberately sat on his knee, smiling provocatively at +him. + +Peter felt savage and bitter. Like a man, he was easily deceived, and he +had been taken by surprise at a bad moment. But he did his best to hide +it, and merely threw any remnants of caution he had left at all to the +winds. + +"I suppose this is the best we can hope for, Captain Graham," said Miss +Raynard placidly. "Perhaps now you'll give us your views. Captain Donovan +never gets beyond the drinks, but I agree with Mr. Pennell we want +something substantial." + +"I'm blest if I don't think you all confoundedly ungrateful," said +Donovan. "I worked that fine champagne for you beautifully. Anyone would +think you could walk in and order it any day. If we get it at all, it'll +be due to me and my blarney. Not but what it does deserve a good +introduction," he added. "I don't suppose there's another bottle in the +town." + +Tommy sighed. "He's off again, or he will be," she said. "Do be quick, +Captain Graham." + +"Well," said Peter. "I suggest, first, that you leave the ordering of the +room to me, and the decorations. I've most time, and I'd like to choose +the flowers. And the smokes and crackers. And I'll worry round and get +some menu-cards, and have 'em printed in style. And, if you like, I'll +interview the chef and see what he can give us. It's not much use our +discussing details without him." + +"'A Daniel come to judgment,'" said Pennell. "Padre, I didn't know you +had it in you." + +"A Solomon," said Julie mischievously. + +"A Peter Graham," said Miss Raynard. "I always knew he had more sense in +his little finger than all the rest of you in your heads." + +Donovan sighed from the depths of the chair. "Graham," he said, "for +Heaven's sake remember those..." + +Julie clapped her hand over his mouth. He kissed it. She withdrew it with +a scream. + +"...Drinks," finished Donovan. "The chef must suggest accordin'." + +"Well," said Pennell, "I reckon that's settled satisfactorily. I'll get +out my invitation. In fact, I think, if I may be excused, I'll go and do +it now." He got up and reached for his cap. + +They all laughed. "We'll see to it that there's mistletoe," cried Julie. + +"Ah, thanks!" said Pennell; "that will be jolly, though some people I +know seem to get on well enough without it. So long. See you later, +padre." + +He avoided Julie's flung cushion and stepped through the door. Miss +Raynard got up. "We ought to get a move on too, my dear," she said to +Julie. + +"Oh, not yet," protested Donovan. "Let's have some bridge. There are just +four of us." + +"You can never have played bridge with Julie, Captain Donovan," said Miss +Raynard. "She usually flings the cards at you half way through the +rubber. And she never counts. The other night she played a diamond +instead of a heart, when hearts were trumps, and she had the last and +all the rest of the tricks in her hand." + +"Ah, well," said Donovan, "women are like that. They often mistake +diamonds for hearts." + +"Jack," said Julie, "you're really clever. How do you do it? I had no +idea. Does it hurt? But don't do it again; you might break something. +Peter, you've been praised this evening, but you'd never think of that." + +"He would not," said Miss Raynard.... "Come on, Julie." + +Peter hesitated a second. Then he said: "You're going my way. May I see +you home?" + +"Thanks," said Miss Raynard, and they all made a move. + +"It's deuced dark," said Donovan. "Here, let me. I'll go first with a +candle so that you shan't miss the duck-boards." + +He passed out, Tommy Raynard after him. Peter stood back to let Julie +pass, and as she did so she said: "You're very glum and very polite +to-night, Solomon. What's the matter?" + +"Am I?" said Peter; "I didn't know it. And in any case Donovan is all +right, isn't he?" + +He could have bitten his tongue out the next minute. She looked at him +and then began to laugh silently, and, still laughing, went out before +him. Peter followed miserably. At the gate Donovan said good-bye, and the +three set out for the hospital. Miss Raynard walked between Peter and +Julie, and did most of the talking, but the ground was rough and the path +narrow, and it was not until they got on to the dock road that much could +be said. + +"This is the best Christmas I've ever had," declared Miss Raynard. "I'm +feeling positively done up. There was something on every afternoon and +evening last week, and then Julie sits on my bed till daybreak, more or +less, and smokes cigarettes. We've a bottle of benedictine, too, and it +always goes to her head. The other night she did a Salome dance on the +strength of it." + +"It was really fine," said Julie. "You ought to have seen me." + +"Till the towel slipped off: not then, I hope," said Tommy dryly. + +"I don't suppose he'd have minded--would you, Peter?" + +"Not a bit," said Peter cheerfully--"on the contrary." + +"I don't know if you two are aware that you are positively indecent," +said Tommy. "Let's change the subject. What's your news, Captain Graham?" + +Peter smiled in the dark to himself. "Well," he said, "not much, but I'm +hoping for leave soon. I've pushed in for it, and our Adjutant told me +this morning he thought it would go through." + +"Lucky man! I've got to wait three months. But yours ought to be about +now, Julie." + +"I think it ought," said Julie shortly. Then: "What about the menu-cards, +Peter? Would you like me to help you choose them?" + +"Would you?" said he eagerly. "To-morrow?" + +"I'm on duty at five o'clock, but I can get off for an hour in the +afternoon. Could you come, Tommy?" + +"No. Sorry; but I must write letters. I haven't written one for ages." + +"Nor have I," said Julie, "but I don't mean to. I hate letters. Well, +what about it, Peter?" + +"I should think we had better try that stationer's in the Rue Thiers," he +said. "If that won't do, the Nouvelles Galeries might. What do you +think?" + +"Let's try the Galeries first. We could meet there. Say at three, eh? I +want to get some baby-ribbon, too." + +Tommy sighed audibly. "She's off again," she said. + +"Thank God, here's the hospital! Good-night, Captain Graham. You mustn't +cross the Rubicon to-night." + +"You oughtn't to swear before him," said Julie in mock severity. "And +what in the world is the Rubicon?" + +"Materially, to-night, it's the railway-line between his camp and the +hospital," said Tommy Raynard. "What else it is I'll leave him to +decide." + +She held out her hand, and Peter saw a quizzical look on her face. He +turned rather hopelessly to Julie. "I say," he said, "didn't you _know_ +it was my afternoon at the hospital?" + +"Yes," said Julie, "and I knew you didn't come. At least, I couldn't see +you in any of the wards." + +"Oh," he exclaimed, "I thought you'd been out all the afternoon. I'm +sorry. I am a damned fool, Julie!" + +She laughed in the darkness. "I've known worse, Peter," she said, and was +gone. + + * * * * * + +Next day Julie was in her most provocative of moods. Peter, eminently +respectable in his best tunic, waited ten minutes for her outside the +Nouvelles Galeries, and, like most men in his condition, considered that +she was never coming, and that he was the cynosure of neighbouring eyes. +When she did come, she was not apparently aware that she was late. She +ran her eyes over him, and gave a pretended gasp of surprise. "You're +looking wonderful, Padre Graham," she said. "Really, you're hard to live +up to. I never know what to expect or how to behave. Those black buttons +terrorise me. Come on." + +She insisted on getting her ribbon first, and turned over everything +there was to be seen at that counter. The French girl who served them was +highly amused. + +"Isn't that chic?" Julie demanded of Peter, holding up a lacy camisole +and deliberately putting it to her shoulders. "Wouldn't you love to see +me in it?" + +"I would," he said, without the ghost of a smile. + +"Well, you never will, of course," she said. "I shall never marry or be +given in marriage, and in any case, in that uniform, you've nothing +whatever to hope for.... Yes, I'll take that ribbon, thank you, +ma'm'selle. Peter, I suppose you can't carry it for me. Your pocket? Not +a bad idea; but let me put it in." + +Peter stood while she undid his breast-pocket and stuffed it inside. + +"Anything more?" demanded the French saleswoman interrogatively. + +"Not to-day, merci," said Julie. "You see, Peter, you couldn't carry +undies for me, even in your pocket; it wouldn't be respectable. _Do_ come +on. You will keep us here the entire day." + +They passed the smoking department, and she stopped suddenly. "Peter," +she said, "I'm going to give you a pipe. Those chocolates you gave me at +Christmas were too delicious for anything. What sort do you like? A +briar? Let me see if it blows nicely." She put it to her lips. "I swear +I shall start a pipe soon, in my old age. By the way, I don't believe you +have any idea how old I am--have you, Peter? Guess." + +She was quick to note the return to his old manner. He was nervous with +her, not sure of himself, and so not sure of her either. And she traded +on it. At the stationery department she made eyes at a couple of +officers, and insisted on examining Kirschner picture-postcards, some of +which she would not show him. "You can't possibly be seen looking at them +with those badges up," she whispered. "Dear me, if only Donovan were +here! He wouldn't mind, and I don't know which packet I like best. These +have got very little on, Peter--_very_ little, but I'm not sure that they +are not more decent than those. It's _much_ worse than a camisole, +you know...." + +Peter was horribly conscious that the men were smiling at her. "Julie," +he said desperately, "_do_ be sensible, just for a minute. We must get +those menu-cards." + +"Well, you go and find the books," she said merrily. "I told you you +ought not to watch me buy these. I'll take the best care of myself," and +she looked past him towards the men. + +Peter gave it up. "Julie," he said savagely, "if you make eyes any more, +I'll kiss you here and now--I swear I will." + +Julie laughed her little nearly silent chuckle, and looked at him. "I +believe you would, Peter," she said, "and I certainly mustn't risk that. +I'll be good. Are those the books? Fetch me a chair, then, and I'll look +through them." + +He bent over her as she turned the leaves. She wore a little toque that +had some relation to a nurse's uniform, but was distinctive of Julie. Her +fringe of brown hair lay along her forehead, and the thick masses of the +rest of it tempted him almost beyond endurance. "How will that do?" she +demanded, her eyes dancing. "Oh, do look at the cards and not at me! +You're a terrible person to bring shopping, Peter!" + +The card selected, she had a bright idea. "What about candle-shades?" she +queried. "We can't trust the hotel. I want some with violets on them: I +love violets." + +"Do you?" he said eagerly. "That's just what I wanted to know. Yes, it's +a fine idea; let's go and get them." + +Outside, she gave a sigh of relief, and looked at the little gold +wrist-watch on her arm. "We've time," she said. "Take me to tea." + +"You must know it's not possible," he said. "They're enforcing the order, +and one can't get tea anywhere." + +She shook her head at him. "I think, Peter," she said, "you'll never +learn the ropes. Follow me." + +Not literally, but metaphorically, he followed her. She led him to a big +confectioner's with two doors and several windows, in each of which was a +big notice of the new law forbidding teas or the purchase of chocolates. +Inside, she walked up to a girl who was standing by a counter, and who +greeted her with a smile. "It is cold outside," she said. "May I have a +warm by the fire?" + +"Certainly, mademoiselle," said the girl. "And monsieur also. Will it +please you to come round here?" + +They went behind the counter and in at a little door. There was a fire in +the grate of the small kitchen, and a kettle singing on the hob. Julie +sat down on a chair at the wooden table and looked round with +satisfaction. + +"Why, it's all ready for us!" she exclaimed. "Chocolate cakes, Suzanne, +please, _and_ hot buttered scones. I'll butter them, if you bring the +scones." + +They came, and she went to the fire, splitting them open and spreading +the butter lavishly. "I love France," she said. "All laws are made to be +broken, which is all that laws are good for, don't you think?" + +"Yes," he said deliberately, glancing at the closed door, and bent and +kissed her neck. She looked up imperiously. "Again," she said; and he +kissed her on the lips. At that she jumped up with a quick return to the +old manner: "Peter! For a parson you are the outside edge. Go and sit +down over there and recollect yourself. To begin with, if we're found, +here, there'll be a row, and if you're caught kissing me, who knows what +will happen?" + +He obeyed gaily. "Chaff away, Julie," he said, "but I shan't wear black +buttons at the dinner. You'll have to look out that night." + +She put the scones on the table, and sat down. "And if I don't?" she +queried. Peter said nothing. He had suddenly thought of something. He +looked at her, and for the first time she would not meet his eyes. + +It was thought better on New Year's Eve that they should go separately to +Donovan's camp, so Peter and Pennell set out for it alone. By the canal +Pennell left his friend to go and meet Elsie Harding, the third girl. +Peter went on alone, and found Donovan, giving some orders in the camp. +He stood with him till they saw the other four, who had met on the +tow-path, coming in together. + +"He's a dark horse," called Julie, almost before they had come up, "and +so's she. Fancy Elsie being the third! I didn't know they knew each +other. We're a Colonial party to-night, Jack--all except Peter, that is, +for Mr. Pennell is more Canadian than English. We'll teach them. By the +way, I can't go on saying 'Mr. Pennell' all night. What shall I call him, +Elsie?" + +Peter saw that the new-comer wore an Australian brooch, and caught the +unmistakable but charming accent in her reply. "He's 'Trevor' to me, and +he can be to you, if you like, Julie," she said. + +Tommy sighed audibly. "They're beginning early," she said; "but I suppose +the rest of us had better follow the general example--eh, Peter?" + +In the anteroom, where tea was ready, Peter saw that Elsie was likely to +play Julie a good second. She was tall, taller than Pennell himself, and +dark skinned, with black hair and full red lips, and rather bigly built. +It appeared that her great gift was a set of double joints that allowed +her to play the contortionist with great effect. "You should just see her +in tights," said Julie. "Trevor, why didn't you say whom you were +bringing, and I'd have made her put them on. Then we could have had an +exhibition, but, as it is, I suppose we can't." + +"I didn't know you knew her," he said. + +"You never have time to talk of other people when you're together, I +suppose," she retorted. "Well, I've no doubt you make the most of your +opportunities, and you're very wise. But to-night you've got to behave, +more or less--at least, till after the coffee. Otherwise all our +preparations will be wasted--won't they, Peter?" + +After tea they set off together for the tram-car that ran into town. It +was Julie who had decided this. She said she liked to see the people, and +the cars were so perfectly absurd, which was true. Also, that it would be +too early to enjoy taxis, the which was very like her. So they walked in +a body to the terminus, where a crowd of Tommies and French workmen and +factory girls were waiting. The night was cloudy and a little damp, but +it had the effect of adding mystery to the otherwise ugly street, and to +the great ships under repair in the dockyards close by. The lights of the +tram appeared at length round the corner, an engine-car and two trailers. +There was a bolt for them. They were packed on the steps, and the men had +to use elbows freely to get the whole party in, but the soldiers and the +workmen were in excellent humour, and the French girls openly admiring of +Julie. In the result, then, they were all hunched up in the end of a +"first" compartment, and Peter found himself with his back to the glass +door, Julie on his right, Elsie on his left. + +"Every rib I have is broken," said the former. + +"The natural or the artificial?" demanded Elsie. "Personally, I think I +broke a few of other people's." + +They started, and the rattling of the ramshackle cars stopped +conversation. Julie drew Peter's attention to a little scene on the +platform outside, and he looked through the glass to see a big French +linesman with his girl. The man had got her into a corner, and then, +coolly putting his arms out on either side to the hand-rail and to the +knob of their door, he was facing his amorata, indifferent to the +world. Peter looked at the girl's coarse face. She was a factory hand, +bareheaded, and her sleeves were rolled up at her elbows. For all that, +she was neat, as a Frenchwoman invariably is. The girl caught his gaze, +and smiled. The linesman followed the direction of her eyes and glanced +friendly at Peter too. Then he saw Julie. A look of admiration came over +his face, and he put one hand comically to his heart. The girl slapped it +in a pretended fury, and Julie doubled up with laughter in her corner. +Peter bent over her. "_'Everybody's doing it, doing it, doing it,'_" he +quoted merrily. + +The tram stopped, in the square before the Hôtel de Ville. There was a +great air of festivity and bustle about as they stepped out, for the New +Year is a great time in France. Lights twinkled in the misty dark; taxis +sprinted across the open spaces; and people greeted each other gaily by +the brightly-lit shops. Somehow or another the whole thing went to +Peter's head like wine. The world was good and merry, he thought +exultantly, and he, after all, a citizen of it. He caught Julie's arm, +"Come on," he called to the others. "I know the way," And to her: "Isn't +it topping? Do you feel gloriously exhilarated? I don't know why, Julie, +but I could do anything to-night." + +She slipped her fingers down into his hand. "I'm so glad," she said. "So +could I." + +They whirled across the road, the others after them, round the little +park in the centre of the square, and down an empty side-street. Peter +had reconnoitred all approaches, he said, and this was the best way. +Begging him to give her time to breathe, Tommy came along with Donovan, +and it suddenly struck Peter that the latter seemed happy enough. He +pressed Julie's hand: "Donovan's dropped into step with Tommy very +easily," he said. "Do you mind?" + +She laughed happily and glanced back. "You're as blind as a bat, Peter, +when all's said and done," she said; "but oh, my dear, I can't play with +you to-night. There's only one person I want to walk with Peter." + +Peter all but shouted. He drew her to him, and for once Julie was +honestly alarmed. + +"Not now, you mad boy!" she exclaimed, but her eyes were enough for him. + +"All right," he laughed at her; "wait a bit. There's time yet." + +In the little entrance-hail the _maître d'hôtel_ greeted them. They were +the party of importance that night. He ushered them upstairs and opened a +door. The mademoiselles might make the toilette there. Another door: they +would eat here. + +The men deposited their caps and sticks and coats on pegs outside, and +the girls, who had had to come in uniform also, were ready as soon as +they. They went in together. Elsie gave a little whistle of surprise. + +Peter had certainly done well. Holly and mistletoe were round the walls, +and a big bunch of the latter was placed in such a way that it would hang +over the party as they sat afterwards by the fire. In the centre a silver +bowl held glorious roses, white and red, and at each girl's place was +a bunch of Parma violets and a few sprigs of flowering mimosa. Bon-bons +were spread over the white cloth. Julie's candle-shades looked perfect, +and so did the menu-cards. + +"I trust that monsieur is satisfied," said the _maître d'hôtel_, bowing +towards the man who had had the dealings with him. He got his answer, but +not from Peter, and, being a Frenchman, smiled, bowed again, and +discreetly left the room; for Elsie, turning to Peter cried: "Did you do +it--even the wattle?" and kissed him heartily. He kissed her back, and +caught hold of Julie. "Tit for tat," he said to her under his breath, +holding her arms; "do you remember our first taxi?" Then, louder: "Julie +is responsible for most of it," and he kissed her too. + +They sorted themselves out at last, and the dinner, that two of them at +least who were there that night were never to forget, began. They were +uproariously merry, and the two girls who waited came and went wreathed +in smiles. + +With the champagne came a discussion over the cork. "Give it to me" cried +Julie; "I want to wear it for luck." + +"So do I," said Elsie; "we must toss for it." + +Julie agreed, and they spun a coin solemnly. + +"It's mine," cried Elsie, and pounced for it. + +Julie snatched it away, "No, you don't," she said. "A man must put it in, +or there's no luck in it. Here you are, Trevor." + +Pennell took it, laughing, and pushed back his chair. The others stood up +and craned over to see. Elsie drew up her skirt and Trevor pushed it +down her stocking amid screams of laughter, and the rattle of chaff. + +"No higher or I faint," said Tommy. + +Trevor stood up, a little flushed. "Here," said Peter, filling his glass +with what was left in the bottle, "drink this, Pen. You sure want it." + +"It's your turn next," said Trevor, "and, by Jove, the bottle's empty! +Encore le vin," he called. + +"Good idea. It's Julie's next cork, and Graham's the man to do it." said +Jack Donovan. "And then it'll be your turn, Tommy." + +"And yours," she said, glancing at him. + +"Bet you won't dare," said Elsie. + +"Who won't?" retorted Julie. + +"Peter, of course." + +"My dear, you don't know Peter. Here you are, Peter; let's show them." + +She tossed the cork to him and stood up coolly, put up her foot on the +edge of the table, and lifted her skirt. Peter pushed the cork into its +traditional place amid cheers, but he hardly heard. His fingers had +touched her skin, and he had seen the look in her eyes. No wine could +have intoxicated him so. He raised his glass. "Toasts!" he shouted. + +They took him up and everyone rose to their feet. + +"'Here's to all those that I love; +Here's to all those that love me; +Here's to all those that love them that love those +That love those that love them that love me!'" + +he chanted. + +"Julie's turn," cried Elsie. + +"No," she said; "they know all my toasts." + +"Not all," said Donovan; "there was one you never finished--something +about Blighty." + +"Rhymes with nighty," put in Tommy coolly; "don't you remember, Julie?" + +It seemed to Peter that he and Julie stood there looking at each other +for seconds, but probably no one but Tommy noticed. "Take it as read," +cried Peter boisterously, and emptied his glass. His example was +infectious, and they all followed suit, but Donovan remarked across the +table to him: + +"You spoiled a humorous situation, old dear." + +Dinner over, they pushed the table against the wall, and pulled chairs +round the fire. Dessert, crackers, chocolates and cigarettes were piled +on a small table, and the famous liqueur came in with the coffee. They +filled the little glasses. "This is a great occasion," said Donovan; +"let's celebrate it properly. Julie, give us a dance first." + +She sprang up at once. "Right-o," she said. "Clear the table." + +They pushed everything to one side, and Peter held out his hand. Just +touching his fingers, she leaped up, and next minute circled there in a +whirl of skirts. A piano stood in a corner of the room, and Elsie ran to +it. Looking over her shoulder, she caught the pace, and the notes rang +out merrily. + +Julie was the very spirit of devilment and fun. So light that she seemed +hardly to touch the table, she danced as if born to it. It was such an +incarnation of grace and music that a little silence fell on them all. To +Peter she appeared to dance to him. He could not take his eyes off her; +he cared nothing what others thought or saw. There was a mist before him +and thunder in his ears. He saw only her flushed, childlike face and +sparkling brown eyes, and a wave of her loosened hair that slipped across +them.... + +The music ceased. Panting for breath, she leaped down amid a chorus of +"Bravo's!" and held out her hand for the liqueur-glass. Peter put it in +her fingers, and he was trembling more than she, and spilt a little of +it. "Well, here's the best," she cried, and raised the glass. Then, with +a gay laugh, she put her moistened fingers to his mouth and he kissed +them, the spirit on his lips. + +And now Elsie must show herself off. They sat down to watch her, and a +more insidious feeling crept over Peter as he did so. The girl bent her +body this way and that; arched herself over and looked at them between +her feet; twisted herself awry and made faces at them. They laughed, but +there was a new note in the laughter. An intense look had come into +Pennell's face, and Donovan was lolling back, his head on one side, +smiling evilly. + +She finished and straightened herself, and they had more of the liqueur. +Then Tommy, as usual, remembered herself. "Girls," she said, "we must go. +It's fearfully late." + +Donovan sat up. "What about taxis?" he demanded. + +Peter went to the door. "They'll fetch them," he said. "I've made an +arrangement." + +He went a little unsteadily to find the _maître d'hôtel_, and a boy was +despatched, while he settled the bill. They were tramping down the stairs +as he came out of the little office. Julie leading and laughing +uproariously at some joke. Donovan and Tommy were the steadiest, and they +came down together. It seemed to Peter that it was natural for them to do +so. + +Pennell and Elsie got into one taxi. She leaned out of the window and +waved her hand. "We're the luckiest," she called; "we've the farthest to +go. Good-night everyone, and thanks ever so much." + +A second taxi came up. "Jump in, Julie," said Tommy. + +She got in, and Peter put his hand on the door. "I've settled everything, +Donovan," he said. "See you to-morrow. Good-night, Tommy." + +"Good-night," she called back, and he got in. And next minute he was +alone with Julie. + +In the closed and darkened taxi he put his arm round her and drew her to +him. "Oh, my darling," he murmured. "Julie, do you love me as I love you? +I can't live without you." He covered her face with hot kisses, and she +kissed him back. + +"Julie," he said at length, breathlessly, "listen. My leave's come. I +knew this morning. Couldn't you possibly be in England when I am? I saw +you first on the boat coming over--remember? And you're due again." + +"When do you go?" she queried. + +"Fourteenth," he answered. + +She considered. "I couldn't get off by then," she said, "but I might the +twenty-first or thereabouts. I'm due, as you say, and I think it could be +managed." + +"Would you?" he demanded, and hung on her words. + +She turned her face up to him, and even in the dark he could see her +glowing eyes. "It would be heaven, Peter," she whispered. + +He kissed her passionately. + +"I could meet you in town easily," he said. + +"Not the leave-boat train," she replied; "it's not safe. Anyone might be +there. But I'll run down for a day or two to some friends in Sussex, and +then come up to visit more in town. I know very few people, of course, +and all my relations are in South Africa. No one would know to whom I +went, and if I didn't go to them, Peter, why nobody would know either." + +"Splendid!" he answered, the blood pounding in his temples. "I'll make +all the arrangements. Shall I take a flat, or shall we go to an hotel? An +hotel's more fun, perhaps, and we can have a suite." + +She leaned over against him and caught his hand to her breast, with a +little intake of breath. + +"I'll leave it all to you, my darling," she whispered. + +The taxi swung into the clearing before the hospital. "Peter," said +Julie, "Tommy's so sharp; I believe she'll suspect something." + +"I don't care a damn for anyone!" said Peter fiercely; "let her. I only +want you." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Peter secured his leave for Monday the 21st from Boulogne, which +necessitated his leaving Le Havre at least twenty-four hours before that +day. There were two ways of travelling--across country in a troop-train, +or by French expresses via Paris. He had heard so much of the latter plan +that he determined to try it. It had appeared to belong to the reputation +of the Church. + +His movement order was simply from the one port to the other, and was +probably good enough either way round with French officials; but there +was a paper attached to it indicating that the personnel in question +would report at such a time to the R.T.O. at such a station, and the time +and the station spelt troop-train unmistakably. Now, the troop-train +set out on its devious journey an hour later than the Paris express from +the same station, and the hour of the Paris express corresponded with the +time that all decent officers go to dinner. Peter therefore removed the +first paper, folded it up thoughtfully, and put it in his pocket. He then +reported to the R.T.O. a quarter of an hour before the Paris train +started, and found, as he expected, a N.C.O. in sole charge. The man took +his paper and read it. He turned it over; there was no indication of +route anywhere. "Which train are you going by, sir?" he asked. + +"Paris mail," said Peter coolly. "Will you please put my stuff in a +first?" + +"Certainly, sir," said the man, endorsed the order to that effect, and +shouldered a suit-case. Peter followed him. He was given a first to +himself, and the Deputy R.T.O. saw the French inspector and showed him +the paper. Peter strolled off and collected a bottle of wine, some +sandwiches, and some newspapers; then he made himself comfortable. +The train left punctually. Peter lay back in his corner and watched the +country slip by contentedly. He had grown up, had this young man. + +He arrived in Paris with the dawn of Sunday morning, and looked out +cautiously. There was no English official visible. However, his papers +were entirely correct, and he climbed up the stairs and wandered along a +corridor in which hands and letters from time to time indicated the lair +of the R.T.O. Arriving, he found another officer waiting, but no R.T.O. +The other was "bored stiff," he said; he had sat there an hour, but had +seen no sign of the Transport Officer. Peter smiled, and replied that he +had no intention whatever of waiting; he only wanted to know the times of +the Boulogne trains. These he discovered by the aid of a railway guide on +the table, and selected the midnight train, which would land him in +Boulogne in time for the first leave-boat, if the train were punctual and +the leave-boat not too early. In any case, he could take the second, +which would only mean Victoria a few hours later that same day. And these +details settled, he left his luggage in a corner and strolled off into +the city. + +A big city, seen for the first time by oneself alone when one does not +know a soul in it, may be intensely boring or intensely interesting. It +depends on oneself. Peter was in the mood to be interested. He was +introspective. It pleased him to watch the early morning stir; to see the +women come out in shawls and slipshod slippers and swill down their bit +of pavement; to see sleepy shopkeepers take down their shutters and +street-vendors set up their stalls; to try to gauge the thoughts and +doings of the place from the shop-windows and the advertisements. His +first need was a wash and a shave, and he got both at a little barber's +in which monsieur attended to him, while madame, in considerable +_négligée_, made her toilette before the next glass. His second was +breakfast, and he got it, _à l'anglaise_, with an omelette and jam, in a +just-stirring hotel; and then, set up, he strolled off for the centre of +things. Many Masses were in progress at the Madeleine, and he heard one +or two with a curious contentment, but they had no lesson for him, +probably because of the foreign element in the atmosphere, and he did +not pray. Still, he sat, chiefly, and watched, until he felt how entirely +he was a stranger here, and went out into the sun. + +He made his way to the river, and lingered there long. The great +cathedral, with its bare January trees silhouetted to the last twig +against the clear sky, its massive buttresses, and its cluster of smaller +buildings, held his imagination. He went in, but they were beginning to +sing Mass, and he soon came out. He crossed to the farther bank and found +a seat and lit a pipe. Sitting there, his imagination awoke. He conceived +the pageant of faith that had raised those walls. Kings and lords and +knights, all the glitter and gold of the Middle Ages, had come there--and +gone; Bishops and Archbishops, and even Popes, had had their day of +splendour there--and gone; the humbler sort, in the peasant dress of +the period, speaking quaint tongues, had brought their sorrows there and +their joys--and gone; yet it seemed to him that they had not so surely +gone. The great have their individual day and disappear, but the poor, in +their corporate indistinguishableness remain. The multitude, petty in +their trivial wants and griefs, find no historian and leave no monument. +Yet, ultimately, it was because of the Christian faith in the compassion +of God for such that Notre-Dame lifted her towers to the sky. The stage +for the mighty doings of Kings, it was the home of the people. As he had +seen them just now, creeping about the aisles, lighting little tapers, +crouched in a corner, so had they always been. Kings and Bishops figured +for a moment in pomp before the altar, and then monuments must be erected +to their memory. But it was not so with the poor. Peter, in a glow of +warmth, considered that he was in truth one of them. And Jesus had +had compassion on the multitude, he remembered. The text recalled him, +and he frowned to himself. + +He knocked out his pipe, and set out leisurely to find luncheon. The +famous book-boxes held him, and he bought a print or two. In a restaurant +near the Châtelet he got _déjeuner_, and then, remembering Julie, bought +and wrote a picture-postcard, and took a taxi for the Bois. He was +driven about for an hour or more, and watched the people lured out by the +sun, watched the troops of all the armies, watched an aeroplane swing +high over the trees and soar off towards Versailles. He discharged his +car at the Arc de Triomphe, and set about deciphering the carven +pictures. Then, he walked up the great Avenue, made his way to the +Place de la République, wandered through the gardens of the Louvre, and, +as dusk fell, found himself in the Avenue de l'Opéra. It was very gay. He +had a bock at a little marble table, and courteously declined the +invitations of a lady of considerable age painted to look young. He at +first simply refused, and finally cursed into silence, a weedy, flash +youth who offered to show him the sights of the city in an apparently +ascending scale till he reached the final lure of a _cancan_, and he +dined greatly at a palace of a restaurant. Then, tired, he did not know +what to do. + +A girl passing, smiled at him, and he smiled back. She came and sat down. +He looked bored, she told him, which was a thing one should not be in +Paris, and she offered to assist him to get rid of the plague. + +"What do you suggest?" he demanded. + +She shrugged her shoulders--anything that he pleased. + +"But I don't know what I want," he objected. + +"Ah, well, I have a flat near," she said--"a charming flat. We need not +be bored there." + +Peter demurred. He had to catch the midnight train. She made a little +gesture; there was plenty of time. + +He regarded her attentively. "See, mademoiselle," he said, "I do not want +that. But I am alone and I want company. Will you not stroll about Paris +with me for an hour or two, and talk?" + +She smiled. Monsieur was unreasonable. She had her time to consider; she +could not waste it. + +Peter took his case from his pocket and selected a note, folded it, and +handed it to her, without a word. She slipped it into her bag. "Give me a +cigarette," she said. "Let us have one little glass here, and then we +will go on to an 'otel I know, and hear the band and see the dresses, and +talk--is it not so?" + +He could not have found a better companion. In the great lounge, later +on, leaning back by his side, she chatted shrewdly and with merriment. +She described dresses and laughed at his ignorance. She acclaimed certain +pieces, and showed a real knowledge of music. She told him of life in +Paris when the Hun had all but knocked at the gates, of the gaiety of +relief, of things big and little, of the flowers in the Bois in the +spring. He said little, but enjoyed himself. Much later she went with him +to the station, and they stood outside to say good-bye. + +"Well, little girl," he said, "you have given me a good evening, and I am +very grateful. But I do not even know your name. Tell it me, that I may +remember." + +"Mariette," she said. "And will monsieur not take my card? He may be in +Paris again. He is très agréable; I should like much to content him. One +meets many, but there are few one would care to see again." + +Peter smiled sadly. For the first time a wistful note had crept into her +voice. He thought of others like her that he knew, and he spoke very +tenderly. "No, Mariette," he said. "If I came back I might spoil a +memory. Good-bye. God bless you!" and he held out his hand. She hesitated +a second. Then she turned back to the taxi. + +"Where would you like to go?" he demanded. + +She leaned out and glanced up at the clock. "L'Avenue de l'Opéra," she +said, "s'il vous plait." + +The man thrust in the clutch with his foot, and Mariette was lost to +Peter for ever in the multitude. + +In Boulogne he heard that he was late for the first boat, but caught the +second easily. Remembering Donovan's advice, he got his ticket for the +Pullman at once, and was soon rolling luxuriously to town. The station +was bustling as it had done what seemed to him an age before, but he +stepped out with the feeling that he was no longer a fresher in the +world's or any other university. Declining assistance, he walked over to +the Grosvenor and engaged a room, dined, and then strolled out into +Victoria Street. + +It was all so familiar and it was all so different. He stood aloof and +looked at himself, and played with the thought. It was incredible that he +was the Peter Graham of less than a year before, and that he walked where +he had walked a score of times. He went up Whitehall, and across the +Square, and hesitated whether or not he should take the Strand. Deciding +against it, he made his way to Piccadilly Circus and chose a music-hall +that advertised a world-famous comedian. He heard him and came out, still +laughing to himself, and then he walked down Piccadilly to Hyde Park +Corner, and stood for a minute looking up Park Lane. Hilda ought to come +down, he said to himself amusedly. Then, marvelling that he could be +amused at all at the thought, he turned off for his hotel. + +It is nothing to write down, but to Peter it was very much. Everything +was old, but everything was new to him. At his hotel he smoked a +cigarette in the lounge just to watch the men and women who came and +went, and then he declined the lift and ascended the big staircase to his +room. As he went, it struck him why it was that he felt so much wiser +than he had been; that he looked on London from the inside, whereas he +had used to look from the outside only; that he looked with a charity of +which he had never dreamed, and that he was amazingly content. And as he +got into bed he thought that when next he slept in town he would not be +alone. He would have crossed Tommy's Rubicon. + +Next morning he went down into the country to relations who did not +interest him at all; but he walked and rode and enjoyed the English +countryside with zest. He went to the little country church on the Sunday +twice, to Matins and Evensong, and he came home and read that chapter of +Mr. Wells' book in which Mr. Britling expounds the domestication of God. +And he had some fierce moments in which he thought of Louise, and of +Lucienne's sister, and of Mariette, and of Pennell, and, last of all, of +Jenks, and asked himself of what use a domesticated God could be to any +of them. And then on the Thursday he came up to meet Julie. + +It thrilled him that she was in England somewhere and preparing to come +to him. His pulses beat so as he thought of it that every other +consideration was temporarily driven from his mind; but presently he +caught himself thinking what ought to be done, and of what she would be +like. He turned it over in his mind. He had known her in France, +in uniform, when he was not sure of her; but now, what would she be like? +He could not conceive, and he banished the idea. It would be more +splendid when it occurred if he had made no imaginary construction of it. + +His station was King's Cross, and he took a taxi to a big central hotel +in the neighbourhood of Regent Street. And as he passed its doors they +closed irrevocably on his past. + +The girl at the bureau looked up and smiled. "Good-morning," she said. +"What can I do for you? We are very full." + +"Good-morning," he replied. "I expect you are, but my wife is coming up +to town this afternoon, and we have only a few days together. We want to +be as central as possible. Have you a small suite over the week-end?" + +"I don't know," she said, and pulled the big book toward her. She +ran a finger down the page. "Four-twenty," she said--"double bedroom, +sitting-room, and bathroom, how would that do?" + +"It sounds capital," said Peter. "May I go and see it?" + +She turned in her seat, reached for a key, and touched a button. A man +appeared, soundlessly on the thick, rich carpet. "Show this officer +four-twenty, will you?" she said, and turned to someone else. What means +so much to some of us is everyday business to others. + +Peter followed across the hall and into a lift. They went up high, got +out in a corridor, took a turn to the right, and stopped before a door +numbered 420. The man opened it. Peter was led into a little hall, with +two doors leading from it. The first room was the sitting-room. It was +charmingly furnished and very cosy, a couple of good prints on the +walls, wide fireplace, a tall standard lamp, some delightfully easy +chairs--all this he took in at a glance. He walked to the window and +looked out. Far below was the great thoroughfare, and beyond a wilderness +of roofs and spires. He stood and gazed at it. London seemed a different +place up there. He felt remote, and looked again into the street. Its +business rolled on indifferent to him, and unaware. He glanced back into +the snug pretty little room. How easy it all was, how secure! "This is +excellent," he said, "Show me the bedroom." + +"This way, sir," said, the man. + +The bedroom was large and airy. A pretty light paper covered the walls, +and two beds stood against one of them, side by side. The sun shone in at +the big double windows and fell on the white paint of the woodwork, the +plate-glass tops of the toilet-tables, and the thick cream-coloured +carpet. A door was open on his right. He walked across, and looked in +there too. A tiled bathroom, he saw it was, the clean towels on the +highly polished brass rail heated by steam, the cork-mat against the +wall, the shower, douche, and spray all complete, even the big cake of +delicious-looking soap on its sliding rack across the bath. He looked as +a man in a fairy-story might look. It was as if an enchanted palace, with +the princess just round the corner, had been offered him. Smiling at the +conceit, he turned to the man. "I didn't notice the telephone," he said; +"I suppose it is installed?" + +"In each room, sir," said the man. + +"That will do," said Peter. "It will suit me admirably. Have my baggage +sent up, will you, and say that I engage the suite. I will be down +presently." + +"Yes, sir," said the man, and departed. + +Peter went back to the sitting-room, and threw himself into a chair. Then +he had an idea, got up, went to the telephone, ordered a bottle of whisky +to be sent up, and a siphon, and went back to his seat. Presently he was +pouring himself out a drink and smoking a cigarette on his own +(temporary) hearth-rug. The little incident increased his satisfaction. +He was reassuring himself. Here he was really safe and remote and master, +with a thousand servants and a huge palace at his beck and call, and all +for a few pounds! It was absurd, but he thought to himself that he was +feeling civilised for the first time, perhaps. + +He looked round, and considered Julie. What would she want? Flowers to +begin with, heaps of them; she liked violets for one thing, and by hook +or by crook he would get a little wattle or mimosa to remind her of +Africa. Then chocolates and cigarettes, both must never be lacking, and +a few books--no, not books, magazines; and he would have some wine sent +up. What else? Biscuits; after the theatre they might be jolly. Ah, the +theatre! he must book seats. Well, a box would be better; they did not +want to run too great a risk of being seen. Donovan was quite possibly in +town, to say nothing of--older friends. Possibly, considering the run on +the theatres, he had better book up fairly completely for the days they +had together. But what would she like? Julie would never want to go if +she did not spontaneously fancy a play. It was a portentous question, and +he considered it long. Finally he decided on half-and-half measures, +leaving some time free.... Time! how did it go? By Jove! he ought to make +a move. Luncheon first; his last meal alone for some time; then order the +things; and Victoria at 5.30. He poured himself another short drink and +went out. + +He lunched in a big public grill-room, and chatted with a naval officer +at his table who was engaged in mine-sweeping with a steam-tramp. The +latter was not vastly enthusiastic over things, but was chiefly depressed +because he had to report at a naval base that night, and his short London +leave was all but run out. + +"Tell you what," he said, "I've seen a good many cities one way and +another, from San Francisco to Singapore, and I know Paris and Brussels +and Berlin, but you can take my word for it, there's no better place for +ten days' leave than this same old blessed London. You can have some +spree out East if you want it, but you can get much the same, if not +better, here. If a fellow wants a bit of a skirt, he can get as good a +pick in London as anywhere. If you want a good show, there isn't another +spot in the universe that can beat it, whatever it is you feel like. If +you want to slip out of sight for a bit, give me a big hotel like this +in London. They don't damn-well worry about identification papers much +here--too little, p'raps, these days. Did you hear of those German +submarine officers who lived in an hotel in Southampton?" + +Peter had; there were few people who hadn't, seeing that the same +officers lived in most of the coast towns in England that year; but it is +a pity to damp enthusiasm. He said he had heard a little. + +"Walked in and out cool as you please. When they were drowned and picked +up at sea, they had bills and theatre tickets in their pockets, and a +letter acknowledging the booking of rooms for the next week! Fact. Had it +from the fellow who got 'em. And I ask you, what is there to prevent +it? You come here: 'Will you write your name and regiment, please.' You +write the damned thing--any old thing, in fact--and what happens? +Nothing. They don't refer to them. In France the lists go to a central +bureau every day, but here--Lord bless you, the Kaiser himself might put +up anywhere if he shaved his moustache!" + +Peter heard him, well content. He offered a cigarette, feeling warmly +disposed towards the world at large. The naval officer took it. "Thanks," +he said. "You in town for long?" + +"No," said Peter--"a week end. I've only just happened. What's worth +seeing?" + +"First and last all the way, _Carminetta_. It's a dream. Wonderful. By +Gad, I don't know how that girl does it! Then I'd try _Zigzag_--oh! and +go to _You Never Know, You Know_, at the Cri. Absolutely toppin'. A +perfect scream all through. The thing at Daly's' good too; but all the +shows are good, though, I reckon. Lumme, you wouldn't think the war was +on, 'cept they all touch it a bit! _The Better 'Ole_ I like, but you +mightn't, knowing the real thing. But don't miss _Carminetta_ if you have +to stand all day for a seat in the gods. Well, I must be going. Damned +rough luck, but no help for it. Let's have a last spot, eh?" + +Peter agreed, and the drinks were ordered. "Chin-chin," said his +acquaintance. "And here's to old London town, and the Good Lord let me +see it again. It's less than even chances," he added reflectively. + +"Here's luck," said Peter; then, for he couldn't help it: "It's you +chaps, by God, that are winning this war!" + +"Oh, I don't know," said the other, rising. "We get more leave than you +fellows, and I'd sooner be on my tramp than in the trenches. The sea's +good and clean to die in, anyway. Cheerio." + +Peter followed him out in a few minutes, and set about his shopping. He +found a florist's in Regent Street and bought lavishly. The girl smiled +at him, and suggested this and that. "Having a dinner somewhere +to-night?" she queried. "But I have no violets." + +"Got my girl comin' up," said Peter expansively; "that's why there must +be violets. See if you can get me some and send them over, will you?" he +asked, naming his hotel. She promised to do her best, and he departed. + +He went into a chocolate shop. "Got some really decent chocolates?" he +demanded. + +The girl smiled and dived under the counter. "These are the best," she +said, holding out a shovelful for Peter to taste. He tried one. "They'll +do," he said. "Give me a couple of pounds, in a pretty box if you've got +one." + +"Two pounds!" she exclaimed. "What are you thinking of? We can only sell +a quarter." + +"Only a quarter!" said Peter. "That's no good. Come on, make up the two +pounds." + +"If my boss comes in or finds out I'll be fired," said the girl; "can't +be done." + +"Well, that doesn't matter," said Peter innocently, "You'll easily get a +job--something better and easier, I expect." + +"It's easy enough, perhaps," said the girl, "but you never can tell. +_And_ it's dangerous, _and_ uncertain." + +Peter stared at her. When he bought chocolates as a parson, he never had +talks like this. He wondered if London had changed since he knew it. Then +he played up: "You're pretty enough to knock that last out, anyway?" he +said. + +"Am I?" she demanded. "Do you mean you'd like to keep me?" + +"I've got one week-end left of leave," said Peter. "What about the +chocolates?" + +"Poor boy!" she said. "Well, I'll risk it." And she made up the two +pounds. + +He wandered into a tobacconist's, and bought cigarettes which Julie's +soul loved, and then he made for a theatre booking-office. + +Outside and his business done, he looked at his watch, and found he had a +bit of time to spare. He walked down Shaftesbury Avenue, and thought he +would get himself spruced up at a hairdresser's. He saw a little place +with a foreigner at the door, and he went in. It was a tiny room with +three seats all empty. The man seated him in one and began. + +Peter discovered that his hair needed this and that, and being in a good +temper and an idle mood acquiesced. Presently a girl came in. Peter smelt +her enter, and then saw her in the glass. She was short and dark and +foreign, too, and she wore a blouse that appeared to have remarkably +little beneath it, and to be about to slip off her shoulders. She came +forward and stood between him and the glass, smiling. "Wouldn't you like +your nails manicured?" she demanded. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Peter; "I had not meant to ..." and was lost. + +"Second thoughts are best," she said; "but let me look at your hands. +Oh, I should think you did need it! Whatever will your girl say to you +to-night if you have hands like this?" + +Peter, humiliated, looked at his hands. They did not appear to him to +differ much from the hands Julie and others had seen without visible +consternation before, but he had no time to say so. The young lady was +now seated by his side with a basin of hot water, and was dabbling his +hand in it. "Nice? Not too hot?" she inquired brightly. + +Peter watched her as she bent over her work and kept up a running fire of +talk. He gathered that many officers habitually were manicured by her, +many of them in their own rooms. It was lucky for him that she was not +out. Possibly he would like to make an appointment; she could come early +or late. No? Then she thought his own manicure-set must be a poor one, +judging from these hands, and perhaps she could sell him another. No? +Well, a little cream. Not to-day? He would look in to-morrow? He +hadn't a chance? She would tell him what: where was he staying? (Peter, +for the fun of it, told her he had a private suite in the hotel.) Well, +that was splendid. She would call in with a new set at any time, before +breakfast, after the theatre, as he pleased; bring the cream and do his +hands once with it to show him how. How would that suit him? + +Peter was not required to say, for at that minute the shop-bell rang and +a priest came in, a little old man, tired-looking, in a black cassock. He +was apparently known, though he seemed to take no notice of anyone. The +man was all civility, but put on an expression meant to indicate +amusement, to Peter, behind the clerical back. The girl put one of +Peter's fingers on her own lips by way of directing caution, and +continued more or less in silence. The room became all but silent save +for the sound of scissors and the noise of the traffic outside, and Peter +reflected again on many things. When he had had his hair cut previously, +for instance, had people made faces behind his back? Had young ladies +ceased from tempting offers that seemed to include more than manicuring? + +He got up to pay. "Well," she demanded, _sotto voce_, "what of the +arrangement? She could do him easily at any..." + +He cut her short. No; it was really impossible. His wife was coming up +that afternoon. It was plain that she now regarded it as impossible also. +He paid an enormous sum wonderingly, and departed. + +Outside it struck him that he had forgotten one thing. He walked briskly +to the hotel, and went up to his rooms. In the sitting-room was the big +bunch of flowers and a maid unwrapping it. She turned and smiled at him. +"These have just come for you, sir," she said. "Shall I arrange them for +you?" + +"No, thank you," said Peter. "I'd rather do them myself. I love arranging +flowers, and I know just what my wife likes. I expect you'd do them +better, but I'll have a shot, if you don't mind. Would you fill the +glasses and get me a few more? We haven't enough here." + +"Certainly, sir. There was a gentleman here once who did flowers +beautifully, he did. But most likes us to do it for them." + +She departed for the glasses. Peter saw that the florist had secured his +violets, and took them first and filled a bowl. Then he walked into the +bedroom and contemplated for a minute. Then he put the violets critically +on the little table by the bed nearest the window, and stood back to see +the result. Finding it good, he departed. When next he came in, it was to +place a great bunch of roses on the mantelshelf, and a few sprays of the +soft yellow and green mimosa on the dressing-table. For the sitting-room +he had carnations and delphiniums, and he placed a high towering cluster +of the latter on the writing-table, and a vase of the former on the +mantelpiece. A few roses, left over, went on the small table that carried +the reading-lamp, and he and the chambermaid surveyed the results. + +"Lovely, I do think," she said; "any lady would love them. I likes +flowers myself, I do. I come from the country, sir, where there's a many, +and the wild flowers that Jack and I liked best of all. Specially +primroses, sir." There was a sound in her voice as she turned away, and +Peter heard it. + +"Jack?" he queried softly. + +"'E's been missing since last July, sir," she said, stopping by the door. + +"Has he?" said Peter. "Well, you must not give up hope, you know; he may +be a prisoner." + +She shook her head. "He's dead," she said, with an air of finality. "I +oughtn't to have spoke a word, but them flowers reminded me. I'm glad as +how I have to do these rooms, sir. Most of them don't bother with +flowers. Is there anything else you might be wanting, sir?" + +"Light fires in both the grates, please," he said. "I'm so sorry about +Jack," he added. + +She gave him a look, and passed out. + +Peter wandered about touching this and that. Suddenly he remembered the +magazines. He ran out and caught a lift about to descend, and was once +more in the street. Near Leicester Square was a big foreign shop, and he +entered it, and gathered of all kinds. As he went to pay, he saw _La Vie +Parisienne_, and added that also to the bundle; Julie used to say she +loved it. Back in the hotel, he sent them to his room, and glanced at his +watch. He had time for tea. He went out into the lounge and ordered it, +sitting back under the palms. It came, and he was in the act of pouring +out a cup when he saw Donovan. + +Donovan was with a girl, but so were most men; Peter could not be sure +of her. It was only a glimpse he had, for the two had finished and were +passing out. Donovan stood back to let her first through the great +swing-doors, and then, pulling on his gloves, followed. They both +disappeared. + +Peter sat on, in a tumult. He had been too busy all day to reflect much, +but now just what he was about to do began to overwhelm him. If Donovan +met him with Julie? Well, they could pretend they had just met, they +could even part, and meet again. Could they? Would Donovan be deceived +for a minute? It seemed to him impossible. And he might be staying there. +Suppose he met someone else. Langton? Sir Robert Doyle? His late Vicar? +Hilda? Mr. Lessing? And Julie would have acquaintances too. He shook +himself mentally, and lit a cigarette. Well, suppose they did; he was +finished with them. Finished? Then, what lay ahead--what, after this, if +he were discovered? And if he were not discovered? God knew.... + +His mind took a new train of thought: he was now just such a one as +Donovan. Or as Pennell. As Langton? He wasn't sure; no, he thought not; +Langton kept straight because he had a wife and kids. He had a centre. +Donovan and Pennell had not, apparently. Well, he, Peter Graham, would +have a centre; he would marry Julie. It would be heavenly. They had not +spoken of it, of course, that night of the dinner, but surely Julie +would. There could be no doubt after the week-end.... "I shan't marry or +be given in marriage," she had said. It was like her to speak so, but +of course she didn't mean it. No, he would marry; and then? + +He blew out smoke. The Colonies, South Africa; he would get a job +schoolmastering? He hated the idea; it didn't interest him. A farm? He +knew nothing about it--besides, one wanted capital. What would he do? +What did he want to do? _Want_--that was it; how did he want to spend his +life? Well, he wanted Julie; everything else would fit round her, +everything else would be secondary beside her. Of course. And as he got +old it would still be the same, though he could not imagine either of +them old. But still, when they did get old, his work would seem more +important, and what was it to be? Probably it would have to be +schoolmastering. Teaching Latin to little boys--History, Geography, +Mathematics. He smiled ruefully; even factors worried him. They would +hardly want Latin and Greek much in the Colonies, either. Perhaps at +home; but would Julie stop at home? What _would_ Julie do? He must +ask her, sometime before Monday. Not that night--no, not _that_ night.... + +He ground his cigarette into his cup, and pushed his hands into his +pockets, his feet out before him. That night! He saw the sitting-room +upstairs; they would go there first. Then he would suggest a dinner to +her, in Soho; he knew a place that Pennell had told him of, Bohemian, but +one could take anyone--at least, take Julie. It would be jolly watching +the people, and watching Julie. He saw her, mentally, opposite him, and +her eyes sparkling and alluring. And afterwards, warmed and fed--why, +back to the hotel, to the sitting-room, by the fire. They would have a +little supper, and then.... + +He pictured the bedroom. He would let Julie go first. He remembered +reading in a novel how some newly married wife said to the fellow: +"You'll come up in half an hour or so, won't you, dear?" He could all but +see the words in print. And so, in half an hour or so, he would go in, +and Julie would be in bed, by the violets, and he--he would know what men +talked about, sometimes, in the anteroom.... He recalled a red-faced, +coarse Colonel: "No man's a man till he's been all the way, I say...." + +And he was a chaplain, a priest. Was he? The past months spun before him, +his sermons, his talks to the wounded at the hospital, the things he had +seen, the stories he had heard. He sighed. It was all a dream, a sham. +There was no reality in it all. Where and what was Christ? An ideal, yes, +but no more than an ideal, and unrealisable--a vision of the beautiful. +He thought he had seen that once, but not now. The beautiful! Ah! What +place had His Beauty in Travalini's, in the shattered railway-carriage, +in the dinner at the Grand in Havre with Julie? + +Julie. He dwelt on her, eyes, hair, face, skin, and lithe figure. He felt +her kisses again on his lips, those last burning kisses of New Year's +Night, and they were all to be his, as never before.... Julie. What, +then, was she? She was his bride, his wife, coming to him consecrate--not +by any State convention, not by any ceremony of man-made religion, but by +the pure passion of human love, virginal, clean. It was human passion, +perhaps, but where was higher love or greater sacrifice? Was this not +worthy of all his careful preparation, worthy of the one centre of his +being? Donovan, indeed! He wished he had stopped and told him the whole +story, and that he expected Julie that night. + +He jumped up, and walked out in the steps of Donovan, but with never +another thought of him. A boy in uniform questioned him: "Taxi, sir?" He +nodded, and the commissionaire pushed back the great swing-door. He stood +on the steps, and watched the passers-by, and the lights all shaded as +they were, that began to usher in a night of mystery. His taxi rolled up, +and the man held the door open. "Victoria!" cried Peter, and to himself, +as he sank back on the seat, "Julie!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"Julie!" exclaimed Peter, "I should hardly have known you; you do look +topping!" + +"Glad rags make all that difference, old boy? Well, I am glad you did +know me, anyhow. How are you? Had long to wait?" + +"Only ten minutes or so, and I'm very fit, and just dying for you, +Julie." + +She smiled up at him and blushed a little. "Are you, Peter? It's much the +same here, my dear. But don't you think we had better get a move on, and +not stop here talking all night?" + +Peter laughed excitedly. "Rather," he said. "But I'm so excited at seeing +you that I hardly know if I'm on my head or my heels. What about your +luggage? What have you? Have you any idea where it is? There's a taxi +waiting." + +"I haven't much: a big suit-case, most important because it holds an +evening dress--it's marked with my initials; a small leather trunk, +borrowed, with a big star on it; and my dressing-case, which is here. And +I _think_ they're behind, but I wouldn't swear, because we've seemed to +turn round three times in the course of the journey, but it may have +been four!" + +Peter chuckled. She was just the old Julie, but yet with a touch of +something more shining in her eyes, and underlying even the simplest +words. + +"Well, you stand aside just a moment and I'll go and see," he said, and +he hurried off in the crowd. + +Julie stood waiting patiently by a lamp-stand while the world bustled +about her. She wore a little hat with a gay pheasant's wing in it, a dark +green travelling dress and neat brown shoes, and brown silk stockings. +Most people looked at her as they passed, including several officers, but +there was a different look in her brown eyes from that usually there, and +they all passed on unhesitatingly. + +It seemed to her a good while before Peter came up again, in his wake a +railway Amazon with the trunk on her shoulder and the suit-case in her +hand. "Sorry to keep you, dear," he said. "But there was a huge crush and +next to no porters, if these _are_ porters. It feels rotten to have a +woman carrying one's luggage, but I suppose it can't be helped. Come on. +Aren't you tired? Don't you want tea?" + +"I am a little," she said "And I do a bit. Where are we going to get it? +Do they sell teas in London, Peter, or have you taken a leaf out of my +book?" + +They laughed at the reminiscence. "Julie," said Peter, "this is my +outfit, and you shall see what you think of it. Give me your ticket, will +you? I want to see you through myself." + +She handed him a little purse without a word, and they set off together. +She was indulging in the feeling of surrender as if it were not a victory +she had won, and he was glowing with the sense of acquisition, as if he +had really acquired something. + +Julie got into the taxi while Peter settled the luggage, gave directions, +and paid the Amazon. Then he climbed in and pulled the door to, and they +slipped out of the crowded station-yard into the roar of London. Julie +put her hand in his. "Peter," she said, "do tell me where we're going. +I'm dying to know. What arrangements have you made? Is it safe?" + +He leaned over her, his eyes sparkling. "A kiss, first, Julie: no one +will see and it doesn't matter a damn if they do. That's the best of +London. My dear, I can hardly believe we're both here at last, and that +I've really got you." Their lips met. + +Julie flung herself back with a laugh. "Oh, Peter," she said, "I shall +never forget that first taxi. If you could have seen your own face! +Really it was too comic, but I must say you've changed since then." + +"I was a fool and a beast," he said, more gravely; "I'm only just +beginning to realise how much of a fool. But don't rub it in, Julie, or +not just now. I'm starting to live at last, and I don't want to be +reminded of the past." + +She pressed his hand and looked out of window. "Where are we, Peter? +Whitehall? Where are we off to?" + +"I've got the snuggest little suite in all London, darling," he said, +"with a fairy palace at our beck and call. I've been revelling in it all +day--not exactly in it, you know, but in the thought of it. I've been too +busy shopping to be in much; and Julie, I hope you notice my hands: I've +had a special manicure in preparation for you. And the girl is coming +round to-morrow before breakfast to do me again--or at least she wanted +to." + +"What are you talking about? Peter, what have you been doing to-day?" She +sighed a mock sigh. "Really, you're getting beyond me; it's rather +trying." + +Peter launched out into the story to fill up time. He really did not want +to speak of the rooms, that they might give her the greater surprise. So +he kept going till the taxi stopped before the hotel. He jumped out gaily +as the commissionaire opened the door. + +"Come on," he said, "as quick as ever you can." Then, to the man: "Have +these sent up to No. 420, will you, please?" And he took Julie's arm. + +They went in at the great door, and crossed the wide entrance-hall. +Everyone glanced at Julie, Peter noted proudly, even the girls behind the +sweet-counter, and the people waiting about as always. Julie held her +head high and walked more sedately than usual. She _was_ a bit different, +thought Peter, but even nicer. He glowed at the thought. + +He led her to the lift and gave his landing number. They walked down the +corridor in silence and in at their door. Peter opened the door on the +left and stood back. Julie went in. He followed and shut the door behind +them. + +The maid had lit a fire, which blazed merrily. Julie took it all in--the +flowers, the pile of magazines, even the open box of cigarettes, and she +turned enthusiastically to him and flung her arms round his neck, kissing +him again and again. "Oh, Peter darling," she cried, "I can't tell you +how I love you! I could hardly sit still in the railway carriage, and the +train seemed worse than a French one. But now I have you at last, and all +to myself. Oh, Peter, my darling Peter!" + +There came a knock at the door. Julie disengaged her arms from his neck, +but slipped her hand in his, and he said, "Come in." + +The maid entered, carrying tea. She smiled at them. "I thought madame +might like tea at once, sir," she said, and placed the tray on the little +table. + +"Thank you ever so much," said Julie impulsively; "that is good of you. +I'm longing for it. One gets so tired in the train." Then she walked to +the glass. "I'll take off my hat, Peter," she said, "and my coat, and +then we'll have tea comfortably. I do want it, and a cigarette. You're an +angel to have thought of my own De Reszke." + +She threw herself into a big basket chair, and leaned over to the table. +"Milk and sugar for you, Peter? By the way, I ought to know these things; +not that it much matters; ours was a war marriage, and I've hardly seen +you at all!" + +Peter sat opposite, and watched her pour out. She leaned back with a +piece of toast in her hands, her eyes on him, and they smiled across at +each other. Suddenly he could bear it no longer. He put his cup down and +knelt forward at her feet, his arms on her knees, devouring her. "Oh, +Julie," he said, "I want to worship you--I do indeed. I can't believe +my luck. I can't think that _you_ love _me_." + +Her white teeth bit into the toast. "You old silly," she said. "But I +don't want to be worshipped; I _won't_ be worshipped; I want to be loved, +Peter." + +He put his arms up, and pulled her head down to his, kissing her again +and again, stroking her arm, murmuring foolish words that meant nothing +and meant everything. It was she who stopped him. "Go and sit down," she +said, "and tell me all the plans." + +"Well," he said, "I do hope you'll like them. First, I've not booked up +anything for to-night. I thought we'd go out to dinner to a place I know +and sit over it, and enjoy ourselves. It's a place in Soho, and quite +humorous, I think. Then we might walk back: London's so perfect at night, +isn't it? To-morrow I've got seats for the Coliseum matinee. You know it, +of course; it's a jolly place where one can talk if one wants to, and +smoke; and then I've seats in the evening for _Zigzag_. Saturday night +we're going to see _Carminetta_, which they say is the best show in town, +and Saturday morning we can go anywhere you please, or do anything. And +we can cut out any of them if you like," he added. + +She let her arms lie along the chair, and drew a breath of delight. +"You're truly wonderful," she said. "What a blessing not having to worry +what's to be done! It's a perfect programme. I only wish we could be in +Paris for Sunday; it's so slow here." + +He smiled. "You're sure you're not bored about to-night?" he asked. She +looked him full in the eyes and said nothing. He sprang up and rushed +towards her. She laughed her old gay laugh, and avoided him, jumping up +and getting round the table. "No," she warned; "no more now. Come and +show me the rest of the establishment." + +Arm in arm they made the tour of inspection. In the bathroom Julie's eyes +danced. "Thank the Lord for that bath, Peter," she said. "I shall revel +in it. That's one thing I loathe about France, that one can't get decent +baths, and in the country here it's no better. I had two inches of water +in a foot-bath down in Sussex, and when you sit in the beastly thing only +about three inches of yourself get wet and those the least important +inches. I shall lie in this for hours and smoke, and you shall feed me +with chocolates and read to me. How will you like that?" + +Peter made the only possible answer, and they went back to the bedroom. +The man was bringing up her luggage, and he deposited it on the +luggage-stool. "Heavens!" said Julie, "where are my keys? Oh, I know, in +my purse. I hope you haven't lost it. Do give it to me. The suit-case is +beautifully packed, but the trunk is in an appalling mess. I had to throw +my things in anyhow. By the way, I wonder what they'll make of different +initials on all our luggage? Not that it matters a scrap, especially +these days. Besides, I don't suppose they noticed." + +She was on her knees by the trunk, and had undone it. She lifted the lid, +and Peter saw the confusion inside, and caught sight of the unfamiliar +clothes, Julie was rummaging everywhere. "I know I've left them behind!" +she exclaimed. "Whatever shall I do? My scent and powder-puff! Peter, +it's terrible! I can't go to Soho to dinner without them." + +"Let's go and get some," he suggested; "there's time." + +"No, I can't," she said. "You go. Don't be long. I want to sit in front +of the fire and be cosy." + +Peter set off on the unfamiliar errand, smiling grimly to himself. He got +the scent easily enough, and then inquired for a powder-puff. In the old +days he would scarcely have dared; but he had been in France. He selected +a little French box with a mirror in the lid and a pretty rosebud +pattern, and paid for it unblushingly. Then he returned. + +He opened the door of their sitting-room, and stood transfixed for a +minute. The shaded reading-lamp was on, the other lights off. The fire +glowed red, and Julie lay stretched out in a big chair, smoking a +cigarette. She turned and looked up at him over her shoulder. She had +taken off her dress and slipped on a silk kimono, letting her hair down, +which fell in thick tumbled masses about her. The arm that held the +cigarette was stretched up above her, and the wide, loose sleeve of the +kimono had slipped back, leaving it bare to her shoulder. Her white +frilled petticoat showed beneath, as she had pushed her feet out before +her to the warmth of the fire. Peter's blood pounded in his temples. + +"Good boy," she said; "you haven't been long. Come and show me. I had to +get comfortable: I hope you don't mind." + +He came slowly forward without a word and bent over her. The scent of her +rose intoxicatingly around him as he bent down for a kiss. Their lips +clung together, and the wide world stood still. + +Julie made room for him beside her. "You dear old thing," she exclaimed +at the sight of the powder-puff. "It's a gem. You couldn't have bettered +it in Paris." She opened it, took out the little puff, and dabbed her +open throat. Then, laughing, she dabbed at him: "Don't look so solemn," +she said, "Solomon!" + +Peter slipped one arm round her beneath the kimono, and felt her warm +relaxed waist. Then he pushed his other hand, unresisted, in where her +white throat gleamed bare and open to him, and laid his lips on her hair. +"Oh, Julie," he said, "I had no idea one could love so. It is almost more +than I can bear." + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck a half-hour, and Julie stirred in his +arms and glanced up. "Good Lord, Peter!" she exclaimed, "do you know what +the time is? Half-past seven! I shall never be dressed, and we shall get +no dinner. Let me up, for goodness sake, and give me a drink if you've +got such a thing. If not, ring for it. I shall never have energy enough +to get into my things otherwise." + +Peter opened the little door of the sideboard and got out decanter, +siphon, and glasses. Julie, sitting up and arranging herself, smiled at +him. "Is there a single thing you haven't thought of, you old dear?" she +said. + +"Say when," said Peter, coming towards her. Then he poured himself out a +tumbler and stood by the fire, looking at her. + +"It's a pity we have to go out at all," he said, "for I suppose you can't +go like that." + +"A pity? It's a jolly good thing. You wait till you've seen my frock, my +dear. But, Peter, do you think there's likely to be anyone there that we +know?" + +He shook his head. "Not there, at any rate," he said. + +"Here?" + +"More likely, but it's such a big place we're not likely to meet them, +even so. But if you feel nervous, do you know the best cure? Come down +into the lounge, and see the crowd of people. You sit there and people +stream by, and you don't know a face. It's the most comfortable, feeling +in the world. One's more alone than on a desert island. You might be a +ghost that no one sees." + +Julie shuddered. "Peter don't! You make me feel creepy." She got up "Go +and find that maid, will you? I want her to help me dress." + +Peter walked to the bell and rang it, "Where do I come in?" he asked. + +"Well, you can go and wash in the bathroom, and if you're frightened of +her you can dress there!" And she walked to the door laughing. + +"I'll just finish my drink," he said. "You will be heaps longer than I." + +Five minutes later, having had no answer to his ring, he switched off the +light, and walked out into the hall He hesitated at Julie's door, then he +tapped. "Come in," she said. + +She was standing half-dressed in front of the glass doing her hair, "Oh, +it's you, is it?" she said. "Wherever is that maid? I can't wait all +night for her; you'll have to help." + +Peter sat down and began to change. Half-surreptitiously he watched Julie +moving about, and envied her careless abandon. He was much the more +nervous of the two. + +Presently she called him from the bathroom to fasten her dress. When it +was done, she stood back for him to examine her. + +"That all right?" she demanded, putting a touch here and there. + +Not every woman could have worn her gown. It was a rose pink with some +rich flame-coloured material in front, and was held by two of the +narrowest bands on her shoulders. In the deep _décolleté_ she pushed +two rosebuds from the big bunch, and hung round her neck a pendant of +mother-of-pearl and silver. She wore no other jewellery, and she needed +none. She faced him, a vision of loveliness. + +They went down the stairs together and out into the crush of people, some +of the women in evening dress, but few of the men. The many uniforms +looked better, Peter thought, despite the drab khaki. They had to stand +for awhile while a taxi was found, Julie laughing and chatting +vivaciously. She had a wrap for her shoulders that she had bought in Port +Said, set with small metallic points, and it sparkled about her in the +blaze of light. She flattered him by seeming unconscious of anyone else, +and put her hand on his arm as they went out. + +They drove swiftly through back-streets to the restaurant that Peter had +selected, and stopped in a quiet, dark, narrow road off Greek Street. +Julie got out and looked around with pretended fear. "Where in the world +have you brought me?" she demanded. "However did you find the place? +It's worse than some of your favourite places in Havre." + +Inside, however, she looked round appreciatively. "Really, Peter, it's +splendid," she said under her breath--"just the place," and smiled +sweetly on the padrone who came forward, bowing. Peter had engaged a +table, and they were led to it. + +"I had almost given you up, sir," said the man, "but by good fortune, +some of our patrons are late too." + +They sat down opposite to each other, and studied the menu held out to +them by a waiter. "I don't know the meaning of half the dishes," laughed +Julie. "You order. It'll be more fun if I don't know what's coming." + +"We must drink Chianti," said Peter, and ordered a bottle. "You can think +you are in Italy." + +Elbows on the table as she waited, Julie looked round. In the far corner +a gay party of four were halfway through dinner. Two officers, an elderly +lady and a young one, she found rather hard to place, but Julie decided +the girl was the fiancée of one who had brought his friend to meet her. +At other tables were mostly couples, and across the room from her, with +an elderly officer, sat a well-made-up woman, very plainly _demimonde_. +Immediately before her were four men, two of them foreigners, in morning +dress, talking and eating hare. It was evidently a professional party, +and one of the four now and again hummed out a little air to the +rest, and once jotted down some notes on the back of a programme. They +took no notice of anyone, but the eyes of the woman with the officer, who +hardly spoke to her, searched Julie unblushingly. + +Julie, gave a little sigh of happiness. "This is lovely, Peter," she +said. "We'll be ages over dinner. It's such fun to be in nice clothes +just for dinner sometimes and not to have to worry about the time, and +going on elsewhere. But I do wish my friends could see me, I must say. +They'd be horrified. They thought I was going to a stodgy place in West +Kensington. I was must careful to be vague, but that was the idea. Peter, +how would you like to live in a suburb and have heaps of children, and +dine out with city men and their wives once or twice a month for a +treat?" + +Peter grimaced. Then he looked thoughtful. "It wouldn't have been any so +remarkable for me at one time, Julie," he said. + +She shook her head. "It would, my dear. You're not made for it." + +"What am I made for, then?" + +She regarded him solemnly, and then relaxed into a smile. "I haven't a +notion, but not that. The thing is never to worry. You get what you're +made for in the end, I think." + +"I wonder," said Peter. "Perhaps, but not always. The world's full of +square pegs in round holes." + +"Then they're stodgy pegs, without anything in them. If I was a square +peg I'd never go into a round hole." + +"Suppose there was no other hole to go into," demanded Peter. + +"Then I'd fall out, or I wouldn't go into any hole at all. I'd sooner be +anything in the world than stodgy, Peter. I'd sooner be like that woman +over there who is staring at me so!" + +Peter glanced to one side, and then back at Julie. He was rather grave. +"Would you really?" he questioned. + +The waiter brought the Chianti and poured out glasses. Julie waited till +he had gone, and then lifted hers and looked at Peter across it. "I +would," she said. "I couldn't live without wine and excitement and song. +I'm made that way. Cheerio, Solomon!" + +They drank to each other. Then: "And love?" queried Peter softly. + +Julie did not reply for a minute. She set her wine-glass down and toyed +with the stem. Then she looked up at him under her eyelashes with that +old daring look of hers, and repeated: "And love, Peter. But real love, +not stodgy humdrum liking, Peter. I want the love that's like the hot +sun, and the wide, tossing blue sea east of Suez, and the nights under +the moon where the real world wakes up and doesn't go to sleep, like it +does in the country in the cold, hard North. Do you know," she went on, +"though I love the cities, and bands, and restaurants, and theatres, and +taxis, and nice clothes, I love best of all the places where one has none +of these things. I once went with a shooting-party to East Africa, Peter, +and that's what I love. I shall never forget the nights at Kilindini, +with the fireflies dancing among the bushes, and the moon glistening on +the palms as if they were wet, and the insects shrilling in the grass, +and the hot, damp air. Or by day, up in the forest, camped under the +great trees, with the strange few flowers and the silence, while the sun +trickled through the leaves and made pools of light on the ground. Do you +know, I saw the most beautiful thing I've ever seen or, I think, shall +see in that forest." + +"What was that?" asked Peter, under her spell, for she was speaking like +a woman in a dream. + +"It was one day when we were marching. We came on a glade among the +trees, and at the end of it, a little depression of damp green grass, +only the grass was quite hidden beneath a sheet of blue--such blue, I +can't describe it--that quivered and moved in the sun. We stood quite +still, and then a boy threw a little stone. And the blue all rose in the +air, silently, like magic. It was a swarm of hundreds and hundreds of +blue butterflies, Peter. Do you know what I did? I cried--I couldn't help +it. It was too beautiful to see, Peter." + +A little silence fell between them. She broke it in another tone. + +"And the natives--I love the natives. I just love the all but naked girls +carrying the water up to the village in the evening, tall and straight, +like Greek statues; and the men, in a string of beads and a spear. I +wanted to go naked myself there--at least, I did till one day I tried it, +and the sun skinned me in no time. But at least one needn't wear +much--cool loose things, and it doesn't matter what one does or says." + +Peter laughed. "Who was with you when you tried the experiment?" he +demanded. + +Julie threw her head back, and even the professional four glanced up and +looked at her. "Ah, wouldn't you like to know?" she laughed. "Well, I +won't tease you--two native girls if you want to know, that was all. The +rest of the party were having a midday sleep. But I never can sleep +at midday. I don't mind lying in a hammock or a deck-chair, and reading, +but I can't sleep. One feels so beastly when one wakes up, doesn't one?" + +Peter nodded, but steered her back. "Tell me more," he said. "You wake +something up in me; I feel as if I was born to be there." + +"Well," she said reflectively, "I don't know that anything can beat the +great range that runs along our border in Natal. It's different, of +course, but it's very wonderful. There's one pass I know--see here, you +go up a wide valley with a stream that runs in and out, and that you have +to cross again and again until it narrows and narrows to a small footpath +between great kranzes. At first there are queer stunted trees and bushes +about, with the stream, that's now a tiny thing of clear water, singing +among them, and there the trees stop, and you climb up and up among the +boulders, until you think you can do no more, and at the last you come +out on the top." + +"And then?" + +"You're in wonderland. Before you lies peak on peak, grass-grown and +rocky, so clear in the rare, still air. There is nothing there but +mountain and rock and grass, and the blue sky, with perhaps little clouds +being blown across it, and a wind that's cool and vast--you feel it fills +everything. And you look down the way you've come, and there's all Natal +spread out at your feet like a tiny picture, lands and woods and rivers, +till it's lost in the mist of the distance." + +She ceased, staring at her wine-glass. At last the chatter of the place +broke in on Peter. "My dear," he exclaimed, "one can see it. But what do +you do there?" + +She laughed and broke the spell. "What would one do?" she demanded. "Eat +and drink and sleep, and make love, Peter, if there's anybody to make +love to." + +"But you couldn't do that all your life," he objected. + +"Why not? Why do anything else? I never can see. And when you're +tired--for you _do_ get tired at last--back to Durban for a +razzle-dazzle, or back farther still, to London or Paris for a bit. +That's the life for me, Peter!" + +He smiled: "Provided somebody is there with the necessary, I suppose?" he +said. + +"Solomon," she mocked, "Solomon, Solomon! Why do you spoil it all? But +you're right, of course, Peter, though I hate to think of that." + +"I see how we're like, and how we're unlike, Julie," said Peter suddenly, +"You like real things, and so do I. You hate to feel stuffy and tied up +in conventions, and so do I. But you're content with just that, and I'm +not." + +"Am I?" she queried, looking at him a little strangely. + +Peter did not notice; he was bent on pursuing his argument. "Yes, you +are," he said. "When you're in the grip of real vital things--nature +naked and unashamed--you have all you want. You don't stop to think of +to-morrow. You live. But I, I feel that there is something round the +corner all the time. I feel as if there must be something bigger than +just that. I'd love your forest and your range and your natives, I think, +but only because one is nearer something else with them than here. I +don't know how to put it, but when you think of those things you feel +_full_, and I still feel _empty_." + +"Peter," said Julie softly, "do you remember Caudebec?" + +He looked up at her then. "I shall never forget it, dear," he said. + +"Then you'll remember our talk in the car?" + +He nodded. "When you talked about marriage and human nature and men, and +so on," he said. + +"No, I don't mean that. I did talk of those things, and I gave you a +little rather bitter philosophy that is more true than you think; but I +don't mean that. Afterwards, when we spoke about shams and playing. Do +you remember, I hinted that a big thing might come along--do you +remember?" + +He nodded again, but he did not speak. + +"Well," she said, "it's come--that's all." + +"Another bottle of Chianti, sir?" queried the padrone at his elbow. + +Peter started. "What? Oh, yes, please," he said. "We can manage another +bottle, Julie? And bring on the dessert now, will you? Julie, have a +cigarette." + +"If we have another bottle you must drink most of it," she laughed, +almost as if they had not been interrupted, but with a little vivid +colour in her cheeks. "Otherwise, my dear, you'll have to carry me +upstairs, which won't look any too well. But I want another glass. Oh, +Peter, do look at that woman now!" + +Peter looked. The elderly officer had dined to repletion and drank well +too. The woman had roused herself; she was plainly urging him to come on +out; and as Peter glanced over, she made an all but imperceptible sign to +a waiter, who bustled forward with the man's cap and stick. He took them +stupidly, and the woman helped him up, but not too noticeably. Together +they made for the door, which the waiter held wide open. The woman tipped +him, and he bowed. The door closed, and the pair disappeared into the +street. + +"A damned plucky sort," said Julie; "I don't care what anyone says." + +"I didn't think so once, Julie," said Peter, "but I believe you're right +now. It's a topsy-turvy world, little girl, and one never knows where one +is in it." + +"Men often don't," said Julie, "but women make fewer mistakes. Come, +Peter, let's get back. I want the walk, and I want that cosy little +room." + +He drained his glass and got up. Suddenly the thought of the physical +Julie ran through him like fire. "Rather!" he said gaily. "So do I, +little girl." + +The waiter pulled back the chairs. The padrone came up all bows and +smiles. He hoped the Captain would come again--any time. It was better to +ring up, as they were often very full. A taxi? No? Well, the walk through +the streets was enjoyable after dinner, even now, when the lights were so +few. Good-evening, madame; he hoped everything had been to her liking. + +Julie sauntered across the now half-empty little room, and took Peter's +arm in the street. "Do you know the way?" she demanded. + +"We can't miss it," he said. "Up here will lead us to Shaftesbury Avenue +somewhere, and then we go down. Sure you want to walk, darling?" + +"Yes, and see the people, Peter, I love seeing them. Somehow by night +they're more natural than they are by day. I hate seeing people going to +work in droves, and men rushing about the city with dollars written all +across their faces. At night that's mostly finished with. One can see +ugly things, but some rather beautiful ones as well. Let's cross over. +There are more people that side." + +They passed together down the big street. Even the theatres were darkened +to some extent, but taxis were about, and kept depositing their loads of +men and smiling women. The street-walks held Tommies, often plainly with +a sweet-heart from down east; men who sauntered along and scanned the +faces of the women; a newsboy or two; a few loungers waiting to pick up +odd coppers; and here and there a woman by herself. It was the usual +crowd, but they were in the mood to see the unusual in usual things. + +In the Circus they lingered a little. Shrouded as it was, an atmosphere +of mystery hung over everything. Little groups that talked for a while +at the corners or made appointments, or met and broke up again, had the +air of conspirators in some great affair. The rush of cars down Regent +Street, and then this way and that, lent colour to the thought, and +it affected both of them. "What's brooding over it all, Julie?" Peter +half-whispered. "Can't you feel that there is something?" + +She shrugged her shoulders, and then gave a little shiver. "Love, or what +men take for love," she said. + +He clasped the hand that lay along his arm passionately. "Come along," he +said. + +"Oh, this _is_ good, Peter," said Julie a few minutes later. She had +thrown off her wrap, and was standing by the fire while he arranged the +cigarettes, the biscuits, and a couple of drinks on the little table with +its shaded light. "Did you lock the door? Are we quite alone, we two, at +last, with all the world shut out?" + +He came swiftly over to her, and took her in his arms for answer. He +pressed kisses on her hair, her lips, her neck, and she responded to +them. + +"Oh, love, love," he said, "let's sit down and forget that there is +anything but you and I." + +She broke from him with a little laugh of excitement. "We will, Peter," +she said; "but I'm going to take off this dress and one or two other +things, and let my hair down. Then I'll come back." + +"Take them off here," he said; "you needn't go away." + +She looked at him and laughed again. "Help me, then," she said, and +turned her back for him to loosen her dress. + +Clumsily he obeyed. He helped her off with the shimmering beautiful +thing, and put it carefully over a chair. With deft fingers she loosened +her hair, and he ran his fingers through it, and buried his face in the +thick growth of it. She untied a ribbon at her waist, and threw from +her one or two of her mysterious woman's things. Then, with a sigh of +utter abandonment, she threw herself into his arms. + +They sat long over the fire. Outside the dull roar of the sleepless city +came faintly up to them, and now and again a coal fell in the grate. At +long last Peter pushed her back a little from him. "Little girl," he +said, "I must ask one thing. Will you forgive me? That night at +Abbeville, after we left Langton, what was it you wouldn't tell me? +What was it you thought he would have known about you, but not I? Julie, +I thought, to-night--was it anything to do with East Africa--those +tropical nights under the moon? Oh, tell me, Julie!" + +The girl raised her eyes to his. That look of pain and knowledge that he +had seen from the beginning was in them again. Her hand clasped the +lappet of his tunic convulsively, and she seemed to him indeed but a +little girl. + +"Peter! could you not have asked? But no, you couldn't, not you.... But +you guess now, don't you? Oh, Peter, I was so young, and I thought--oh, +I thought: the big thing had come, and since then life's been all one +big mockery. I've laughed at it, Peter: it was the only way. And then +you came along. I haven't dared to think, but there's something about +you--oh, I don't know what! But you don't play tricks, do you, Peter? +And you've given me all, at last, without a question.... Oh, Peter, tell +me you love me still! It's your love, Peter, that can make me clean and +save my soul--if I've any soul to save," she added brokenly. + +Peter caught her to him. He crushed her so that she caught her breath with +the pain of it, and he wound his hand all but savagely in her hair. He +got up--and she never guessed he had the strength--and carried her out in +his arms, and into the other room. + +And hours later, staring into the blackness while she slept as softly as +a child by his side, he could not help smiling a little to himself. It +was all so different from what he had imagined. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Peter awoke, and wondered where he was. Then his eye fell on a half-shut, +unfamiliar trunk across the room, and he heard splashing through the open +door of the bathroom. "Julie!" he called. + +A gurgle of laughter came from the same direction and the splashing +ceased. Almost the next second Julie appeared in the doorway. She was +still half-wet from the water, and her sole dress was a rosebud which she +had just tucked into her hair. She stood there, laughing, a perfect +vision of unblushing natural loveliness, splendidly made from her little +head poised lightly on her white shoulders to her slim feet. "You lazy +creature!" she exclaimed; "you're awake at last, are you? Get up at +once," and she ran over to him just as she was, seizing the bed-clothes +and attempting to strip them off. Peter protested vehemently. "You're a +shameless baggage," he said, "and I don't want to get up yet. I want some +tea and a cigarette in bed. Go away!" + +"You won't get up, won't you?" she said. "All right; I'll get into bed, +then," and she made as if to do so. + +"Get away!" he shouted. "You're streaming wet! You'll soak everything." + +"I don't care," she retorted, laughing and struggling at the same time, +and she succeeded in getting a foot between the sheets. Peter slipped out +on the other side, and she ran round to him. "Come on," she said; "now +for your bath. Not another moment. My water's steaming hot, and it's +quite good enough for you. You can smoke in your bath or after it. Come +on!" + +She dragged him into the bathroom and into that bath, and then she filled +a sponge with cold water and trickled it on him, until he threatened to +jump out and give her a cold douche. Then, panting with her exertions and +dry now, she collapsed on the chair and began to fumble with her hair +and its solitary rose. It was exactly Julie who sat there unashamed in +her nakedness, Peter thought. She had kept the soul of a child through +everything, and it could burst through the outer covering of the woman +who had tasted of the tree of knowledge of good and evil and laugh in the +sun. + +"Peter," she said, "wouldn't you love to live in the Fiji--no, not the +Fiji, because I expect that's civilised these days, but on an almost +desert island?--though not desert, of course. Why does one call Robinson +Crusoe sort of islands _desert_? Oh, I know, because it means deserted, I +suppose. But I don't want it quite deserted, for I want you, and three +or four huts of nice savages to cut up wood for the fire and that sort of +thing. And I should wear a rose--no, a hibiscus--in my hair all day long, +and nothing else at all. And you should wear--well, I don't know what you +should wear, but something picturesque that covered you up a bit, because +you're by no means so good-looking as I am, Peter." She jumped up and +stretched out her arms, "Am I not good-looking, Peter? Why isn't there a +good mirror in this horrid old bathroom? It's more necessary in a +bathroom than anywhere, I think." + +"Well, I can see you without it," said Peter. "And I quite agree, Julie, +you're divine. You are like Aphrodite, sprung from the foam." + +She laughed. "Well, spring from the foam yourself, old dear, and come and +dress. I'm getting cold. I'm going to put on the most thrilling set of +undies this morning that you ever saw. The cami-... " + +Peter put his fingers in his ears. "Julie," he said, "in one minute I +shall blush for shame. Go and put on something, if you must, but don't +talk about it. You're like a Greek goddess just now, but if you begin to +quote advertisements you'll be like--well, I don't know what you'll be +like, but I won't have it, anyway. Go on; get away with you. I shall +throw the sponge at you if you don't." + +She departed merrily, singing to herself, and Peter lay a little longer +in the soft warm water. He dwelt lovingly on the girl in the other room; +he told himself he was the happiest man alive; and yet he got out of the +bath, without apparent rhyme or reason, with a little sigh. But he was +only a little quicker than most men in that. Julie had attained and was +radiant; Peter had attained--and sighed. + +She was entirely respectable by contrast when he rejoined her, shaven and +half-dressed, a little later, but just as delectable, as she stood in +soft white things putting up her hair with her bare arms. He went over +and kissed her. "You never said good-morning at all, you wretch," he +said. + +She flung her arms round his neck and kissed him again many times. +"Purposely," she said. "I shall never say good-morning to you while +you're horribly unshaven--never. You can't help waking up like it, I +know, but it's your duty to get clean and decent as quickly as possible. +See?" + +"I'll try _always_ to remember," said Peter, and stressed the word. + +She held him for an appreciable second at that; then loosed him with a +quick movement. "Go, now," she said, "and order breakfast to be brought +up to our sitting-room. It must be a very nice breakfast. There must be +kippers and an omelette. Go quick; I'll be ready in half a minute." + +"I believe that girl is sweeping the room," said Peter. "Am I to appear +like this? You must remember that we're not in France." + +"Put on a dressing-gown then. You haven't got one here? Then put on my +kimono; you'll look exceedingly beautiful.... Really, Peter, you do. Our +island will have to be Japan, because kimonos suit you. But I shall never +live to reach it if you don't order that breakfast." + +Peter departed, and had a satisfactory interview with the telephone in +the presence of the maid. He returned with a cigarette between his lips, +smiling, and Julie turned to survey him. + +"Peter, come here. Have you kissed that girl? I believe you have! How +dare you? Talk about being shameless, with me here in the next room!" + +"I thought you never minded such things, Julie. You've told me to kiss +girls before now. _And_ you said that you'd always allow your husband +complete liberty--now, didn't you?" + +Julie sat down on the bed and heaved a mock sigh. "What incredible +creatures are men!" she exclaimed. "Must I mean everything I say, +Solomon? Is there no difference between this flat and that miserable old +hotel in Caudebec? And last, but not least, have you promised to forsake +all other and cleave unto me as long as we both shall live? If you had +promised it, I'd know you couldn't possibly keep it; but as it is, I have +hopes." + +This was too much for Peter. He dropped into the position that she had +grown to love to see him in, and he put his arms round her waist, looking +up at her laughingly. "But you will marry me, Julie, won't you?" he +demanded. + +Before his eyes, a lingering trace of that old look crept back into her +face. She put her hands beneath his chin, and said no word, till he could +stand it no longer. + +"Julie, Julie, my darling," he said, "you must." + +"Must, Peter?" she queried, a little wistfully he thought. + +"Yes, must; but say you want to, say you will, Julie!" + +"I want to, Peter," she said--"oh, my dear, you don't know, you can't +know, how much. The form is nothing to me, but I want _you_--if I can +keep you." + +"If you can keep me!" echoed Peter, and it was as if an ice-cold finger +had suddenly been laid on his heart. For one second he saw what might be. +But he banished it. "What!" he exclaimed. "Cannot you trust me, Julie? +Don't you know I love you? Don't you know I want to make you the very +centre of my being, Julie?" + +"I know, dearest," she whispered, and he had never heard her speak so +before. "You want, that is one thing; you can, that is another." + +Peter stared up at her. He felt like a little child who kneels at the +feet of a mother whom it sees as infinitely loving, infinitely wise, +infinitely old. And, like a child, he buried his head in her lap. "Oh, +Julie," he said, "you must marry me. I want you so that I can't tell you +how much. I don't know what you mean. Say," he said, looking up again and +clasping her tightly--"say you'll marry me, Julie!" + +She sprang up with a laugh. "Peter," she said, "you're Mid-Victorian. You +are actually proposing to me upon your knees. If I could curtsy or faint +I would, but I can't. Every scrap of me is modern, down to Venns' +cami-knickers that you wouldn't let me talk about. Let's go and eat +kippers; I'm dying for them. Come on, old Solomon." + +He got up more slowly, half-smiling, for who could resist Julie in that +mood? But he made one more effort. He caught her hand. "But just say +'Yes' Julie," he said--"just 'Yes.'" + +She snatched her hand away. "Maybe I will tell you on Monday morning," +she said, and ran out of the room. + +As he finished dressing, he heard her singing in the next room, and then +talking to the maid. When he entered the sitting-room the girl came out, +and he saw that there were tears in her eyes. He went in and looked +sharply at Julie; there was a suspicion of moisture in hers also. "Oh, +Peter," she said, and took him by the arm as the door closed, "why didn't +you tell me about Jack? I'm going out immediately after breakfast to buy +her the best silver photo-frame I can find, see? And now come and eat +your kippers. They're half-cold, I expect. I thought you were never +coming." + +So began a dream-like day to Peter. Julie was the centre of it. He +followed her into shops, and paid for her purchases and carried her +parcels: he climbed with her on to buses, which she said she preferred to +taxis in the day-time; he listened to her talk, and he did his best to +find out what she wanted and get just that for her. They lunched, at her +request, at an old-fashioned, sober restaurant in Regent Street, that +gave one the impression of eating luncheon in a Georgian dining-room, in +some private house of great stolidity and decorum. When Julie had said +that she wanted such a place Peter had been tickled to think how she +would behave in it. But she speedily enlightened him. She drew off her +gloves with an air. She did not laugh once. She did not chat to the +waiter. She did not hurry in, nor demand the wine-list, nor call him +Solomon. She did not commit one single Colonial solecism at table, as +Peter had hated himself for half thinking that she might. Yet she never +had looked prettier, he thought, and even there he caught glances which +suggested that others might think so too. And if she talked less than +usual, so did he, for his mind was very busy. In the old days it was +almost just such a wife as Julie now that he would have wanted. But did +he want the old days? Could he go back to them? Could he don the clerical +frock coat and with it the clerical system and outlook of St. John's? He +knew, as he sat there, that not only he could not, but that he would not. +What, then? It was almost as if Julie suggested that the alternative was +madcap days, such as that little scene in the bathroom suggested. He +looked at her, and thought of it again, and smiled at the incongruity of +it, there. But even as he smiled the cold whisper of dread insinuated +itself again, small and slight as it was. Would such days fill his life? +Could they offer that which should seize on his heart, and hold it? + +He roused himself with an effort of will, poured himself another glass of +wine, and drank it down. The generous, full-bodied stuff warmed him, and +he glanced at his wrist-watch. "I say," he said, "we shall be late, +Julie, and I don't want to miss one scrap of this show. Have you +finished? A little more wine?" + +Julie was watching him, he thought, as he spoke, and she, too, seemed to +him to make a little effort. "I will, Peter," she said, not at all as she +had spoken there before--"a full glass too. One wants to be in a good +mood for the Coliseum. Well, dear old thing, cheerio!" + +Outside he demanded a taxi. "I must have it, Julie," he said. "I want to +drive up, and have the old buffer in gold braid open the door for me. +Have a cigarette?" + +She took one, and laughed as they settled into the car. "I know the +feeling, my dear," she said. "And you want to stroll languidly up the red +carpet, and pass by the pictures of chorus-girls as if you were so +accustomed to the real thing that really the pictures were rather borin', +don't you know. And you want to make eyes at the programme-girl, and give +a half-crown tip when they open the box, and take off your British warm +in full view of the audience, and...." + +"Kiss you," said Peter uproariously, suiting the action to the word. +"Good Lord, Julie, you're a marvel! No more of those old restaurants for +me. We dine at our hotel to-night, in the big public room near the band, +and we drink champagne." + +"And you put the cork in my stocking?" she queried, stretching out her +foot. + +He pushed his hand up her skirt and down to the warm place beneath the +gay garter that she indicated, and he kissed her passionately again. "It +doesn't matter now," he said. "I have more of you than that. Why, that's +nothing to me now, Julie. Oh, how I love you!" + +She pushed him off, and snatched her foot away also, laughing gaily. "I'm +getting cheap, am I?" she said. "We'll see. You're going to have a damned +rotten time in the theatre, my dear. Not another kiss, and I shall be as +prim as a Quaker." + +The car stopped. "You couldn't," he laughed, helping her out. "And what +is more, I shan't let you be. I've got you, old darling, and I propose to +keep you, what's more." He took her arm resolutely. "Come along. We're +going to be confoundedly late." + +Theirs was a snug little box, one of the new ones, placed as in a +French theatre. The great place was nearly dark as they entered, except +for the blaze of light that shone through the curtain. The odour of +cigarette-smoke and scent greeted them, with the rustle of dresses and +the subdued sound of gay talk. The band struck up. Then, after the +rolling overture, the curtain ran swiftly up, and a smart young person +tripped on the stage in the limelight and made great play of swinging +petticoats. + +Julie had no remembrance of her promised severity at any rate. She hummed +airs, and sang choruses, and laughed, and was thrilled, exactly as she +should have been, while the music and the panorama went on and wrapped +them round with glamour, as it was meant to do. She cheered the patriotic +pictures and Peter with her, till he felt no end of a fellow to be in +uniform. The people in front of them glanced round amusedly now and +again, and as like as not Julie would be discovered sitting there +demurely, her child's face all innocence, and a big chocolate held +between her fingers at her mouth. Peter would lean back in his corner +convulsed at her, and without moving a muscle of her face she would put +her leg tip on his seat and push him. One scene they watched well back +in their dark box, his arm round her waist. It was a little pathetic +love-play and well done, and in the gloom he played with the curls at +her ears and neck with his lips, and held her hand. + +When it was over they went out with the crowd. The January day was done, +but it was bewildering for all that to come out into real life. There was +no romance for the moment on the stained street, and in the passing +traffic. The gold braid of the hall commissionaire looked tawdry, and +the pictures of ballet-girls but vulgar. It is the common experience, but +each time one feels it there is a new surprise. Julie had her own remedy: + +"The liveliest tea-room you can find, Peter," she demanded. + +"It will be hard to beat our own," said Peter. + +"Well, away there, then; let's get back to a band again, anyhow." + +The great palm-lounge was full of people, and for a few minutes it did +not seem as if they would find seats; but then Julie espied a half-empty +table, and they made for it. It stood away back in a corner, with two +wicker armchairs before it, and, behind, a stationary lounge against the +wall overhung by a huge palm. The lounge was occupied. "We'll get in +there presently," whispered Peter, and they took the chairs, thankful in +the crowded place to get seated at all. + +"Oh, it was topping, Peter," said Julie. "I love a great place like that. +I almost wish we had had dress-circle seats or stalls out amongst the +people. But I don't know; that box was delicious. Did you see how that +old fossil in front kept looking round? I made eyes at him once, +deliberately--you know, like this," and she looked sideways at Peter +with subtle invitation just hinted in her eyes. "I thought he would have +apoplexy--I did, really." + +"It's a good thing I didn't notice, Julie. Even now I should hate to see +you look like that, say, at Donovan. You do it too well. Oh, here's the +tea. Praise the Lord! I'm dying for a cup. You can have all the cakes; +I've smoked too much." + +"Wouldn't you prefer a whisky?" + +"No, not now--afterwards. What's that they're playing?" + +They listened, Julie seemingly intent, and Peter, who soon gave up the +attempt to recognise the piece, glanced sideways at the couple on the +lounge. They did not notice him. He took them both in and caught--he +could not help it--a few words. + +She was thirty-five, he guessed, slightly made-up, but handsome and full +figured, a woman of whom any man might have been proud. He was an +officer, in Major's uniform, and he was smoking a cigarette impatiently +and staring down the lounge. She, on the other hand, had her eyes fixed +on him as if to read every expression on his face, which was heavy and +sullen and mutinous. + +"Is that final, then, George?" she said. + +"I tell you I can't help it; I promised I'd dine with Carstairs +to-night." + +A look swept across her face. Peter could not altogether read it. It was +not merely anger, or pique, or disappointment; it certainly was not +merely grief. There was all that in it, but there was more. And she +said--he only just caught the sentence of any of their words, but there +was the world of bitter meaning in it: + +"Quite alone, I suppose? And there will be no necessity for me to sit +up?" + +"Peter," said Julie suddenly, "the tea's cold. Take me upstairs, will +you? we can have better sent up." + +He turned to her in surprise, and then saw that she too had heard and +seen. + +"Right, dear," he said, "It is beastly stuff. I think, after all, I'd +prefer a spot, and I believe you would too." + +He rose carefully, not looking towards the lounge, like a man; and Julie +got up too, glancing at that other couple with such an ordinary merely +interested look that Peter smiled to himself to see it. They threaded +their way in necessary silence through the tables and chairs to the +doors, and said hardly a word in the lift. But in their sitting-room, +cosy as ever, Julie turned to him in a passion of emotion such as he had +scarcely dreamed could exist even in her. + +"Oh, you darling," she said, "pick me up, and sit me in that chair on +your knee. Love me, Peter, love me as you've never loved me before. Hold +me tight, tight, Peter hurt me, kiss me, love me, say you love me..." and +she choked her own utterance, and buried her face on his shoulder, +straining her body to his, twining her slim foot and leg round his ankle. +In a moment she was up again, however, and glanced at the clock. "Peter, +we must dress early and dine early, mustn't we? The thing begins at +seven-forty-five. Now I know what we'll do. First, give me a drink, +a long one, Solomon, and take one yourself. Thanks. That'll do. Here's +the best.... Oh, that's good, Peter. Can't you feel it running through +you and electrifying you? Now, come"--she seized him by the arm--"come +on! I'll tell you what you've got to do." + +Smiling, though a little astonished at this outburst, Peter allowed +himself to be pulled into the bedroom. She sat down on the bed and pushed +out a foot. "Take it off, you darling, while I take down my hair," she +said. + +He knelt and undid the laces and took off the brown shoes one by one, +feeling her little foot through the silk as he did so. Then he looked up. +She had pulled out a comb or two, and her hair was hanging down. With +swift fingers she finished her work, and was waiting for him. He caught +her in his arms, and she buried her face again. "Oh, Peter, love me, love +me! Undress me, will you? I want you to. Play with me, own me, Peter. +See, I am yours, yours, Peter, all yours. Am I worth having, Peter? Do +you want more than me?" And she flung herself back on the bed in her +disorder, the little ribbons heaving at her breast, her eyes afire, her +cheeks aflame. + +"Well," said Peter, an hour or two later, "we've got to get this dinner +through as quickly as we've ever eaten anything. You'll have to digest +like one of your South African ostriches. I say," he said to the waitress +in a confidential tone and with a smile, "do you think you can get us +stuff in ten minutes all told? We're late as it is, and we'll miss half +the theatre else." + +"It depends what you order," said the girl, rather sharply. Then, after a +glance at them both: "See, if you'll have what I say, I'll get you +through quick. I know what's on easiest. Do you mind?" + +"The very thing," said Peter; "and send the wine-man over on your way, +will you? How will that do?" he added to Julie. + +"I'll risk everything to-night, Peter, except your smiling at the +waitress," she said. "But I must have that champagne. There's something +about champagne that inspires confidence. When a man gives you the gold +bottle you know that he is really serious, or as serious as he can be, +which isn't saying much for most men. And not half a bottle; I've had +half-bottles heaps of times at tête-à-tête dinners. It always means +indecision, which is a beastly thing in anyone, and especially in a man. +It's insulting, for one thing.... Oh, Peter, do look at that girl over +there. Do you suppose she has anything on underneath? I suppose I +couldn't ask her, but you might, you know, if you put on that smile of +yours. Do walk over, beg her pardon, and say very nicely: 'Excuse me, but +I'm a chaplain, and it's my business to know these things. I see you've +no stays on, but have you a bathing costume?'" + +"Julie, do be quiet; someone will hear you. You must remember we're in +England, and that you're talking English." + +"I don't care a damn if they do, Peter! Oh, here's the champagne, at any +rate. Oh, and some soup. Well, that's something." + +"I've got the fish coming," said the girl, "if you can be ready at once." + +Julie seized her spoon. "I suppose I mustn't drink it?" she said. "I +don't see why I shouldn't, as a matter of fact, but it might reflect on +you, Peter, and you're looking so immaculate to-night. By the way, you've +never had that manicure. Do send a note for the girl. I'd hide in the +bathroom. I'd love to hear you. Peter, if I only thought you would do it, +I'd like it better than the play. What is the play, by the way? _Zigzag?_ +Oh, _Zigzag_" (She mimicked in a French accent.) "Well, it will be all +too sadly true if I leave you to that bottle of fizz all by yourself. +Give me another glass, please." + +"What about you?" demanded Peter. "If you're like this now, Heaven knows +what you'll be by the time you've had half of this." + +"Peter, you're an ignoramus. Girls like me never take too much. We began +early for one thing, and we're used to it. For another, the more a girl +talks, the soberer she is. She talks because she's thinking, and because +she doesn't want the man to talk. Now, if you talked to-night, I don't +know what you might not say. You'd probably be enormously sentimental, +and I hate sentimental people. I do, really. Sentiment is wishy-washy, +isn't it? I always associate it with comedians on the stage. Look over +there. Do you see that girl in the big droopy hat and the thin hands? +And the boy--one must say 'boy,' I suppose? He's a little fat and +slightly bald, and he's got three pips up, and has had them for a long +time. Well, look at them. He's searching her eyes, he is, Peter, really. +That's how it's done: you just watch. And he doesn't know if he's eating +pea-soup or oyster-sauce. And she's hoping her hat is drooping just +right, and that he'll notice her ring is on the wrong finger, and how +nice one would look in the right place. To do her justice, she isn't +thinking much about dinner, either; but that's sinful waste, Peter, in +the first place, and bad for one's tummy in the second. However, they're +sentimental, they are, and there's a fortune in it. If they could only +bring themselves to do just that for fifteen minutes at the Alhambra +every night, they'd be the most popular turn in London." + +"That's all very well," said he; "but if you eat so fast and talk at the +same time, you'll pay for it very much as you think they will. Have you +finished?" + +"No, I haven't. I want cheese-straws, and I shall sit here till I get +them or till the whole of London zigzags round me." + +"I say," said Peter to their waitress, "if you possibly can, fetch us +cheese-straws now. Not too many, but quickly. Can you? The lady won't go +without them, and something must be done." + +"Wouldn't the management wait if you telephoned, Peter dear?" inquired +Julie sarcastically. "Just say who you are, and they sure will. If the +chorus only knew, they'd go on strike against appearing before you came, +or tear their tights or something dreadful like that, so that they +couldn't come on. Yes, now I am ready. One wee last little drop of the +bubbly--I see it there--and I'll sacrifice coffee for your sake. Give me +a cigarette, though. Thanks. And now my wrap." + +She rose, the cigarette in her fingers, smiling at him. Peter hastily +followed, walking on air. He was beginning to realise how often he failed +to understand Julie, and to see how completely she controlled her +apparently more frivolous moods; but he loved her in them. He little +knew, as he followed her out, the tumult of thoughts that raced through +that little head with its wealth of brown hair. He little guessed how +bravely she was already counting the fleeting minutes, how resolutely +keeping grip of herself in the flood which threatened to sweep her--how +gladly!--away. + +A good revue must be a pageant of music, colour, scenery, song, dance, +humour, and the impossible. There must be good songs in it, but one does +not go for the songs, any more than one goes to see the working out of a +plot. Strung-up men, forty-eight hours out of the trenches, with every +nerve on edge, must come away with a smile of satisfaction on their +faces, to have a last drink at home and sleep like babies. Women who have +been on nervous tension for months must be able to go there, and allow +their tired senses to drink in the feast of it all, so that they too may +go home and sleep. And in a sense their evening meant all this to Peter +and Julie; but only in a sense. + +They both of them bathed in the performance. The possible and impossible +scenes came and went in a bewildering variety, till one had the feeling +that one was asleep and dreaming the incomprehensible jumble of a dream, +and, as in a nice dream, one knew it was absurd, but did not care. The +magnificent, brilliant staging dazzled till one lay back in one's chair +and refused to name the colours to oneself or admire their blending any +more. The chorus-girls trooped on and off till they seemed countless, and +one abandoned any wish to pick the prettiest and follow her through. And +the gay palace of luxury, with its hundreds of splendidly dressed women, +its men in uniform, its height and width and gold and painting, and its +great arching roof, where, high above, the stirring of human hearts still +went on, took to itself an atmosphere and became sentient with humanity. + +Julie and Peter were both emotional and imaginative, and they were +spellbound till the notes of the National Anthem roused them. Then, with +the commonplaces of departure, they left the place. "It's so near," said +Julie in the crowd outside; "let's walk again." + +"The other pavement, then," said Peter, and they crossed. It was cold, +and Julie clung to him, and they walked swiftly. + +At the entrance Peter suggested an hour under the palms, but Julie +pleaded against it. "Why, dear?" she said. "It's so cosy upstairs, and we +have all we want. Besides, the lounge would be an anti-climax; let's go +up." + +They went up, and Julie dropped into her chair while Peter knelt to poke +the fire. Then he lit a cigarette, and she refused one for once, and he +stood there looking into the flame. + +Julie drew a deep sigh. "Wasn't it gorgeous, Peter?" she said. "I can't +help it, but I always feel I want it to go on for ever and ever. Did you +ever see _Kismet?_ That was worse even than this. I wanted to get up and +walk into the play. These modern things are too clever; you know they're +unreal, and yet they seem to be real. You know you're dreaming, but you +hate to wake up. I could let all that music and dancing and colour go on +round me till I floated away and away, for ever." + +Peter said nothing. He continued to stare into the fire. + +"What do you feel?" demanded Julie. + +Peter drew hard on his cigarette, and then he blew out the smoke. "I +don't know," he said. "Yes, I do," he added quickly; "I feel I want to +get up and preach a sermon." + +"Good Lord, Peter! what a dreadful sensation that must be! Don't begin +now, will you? I'm beginning to wish we'd gone into the lounge after all; +you surely couldn't have preached there." + +Peter did not smile. He went on as if she had not spoken, "Or write a +great novel, or, better still, a great play," he said. + +"What would be the subject, then, you Solomon, or the title, anyway?" + +"I don't know," said Peter dreamily. "_All Men are Grass_, _The Way of +all Flesh_--no, neither of those is good, and besides, one at least is +taken. I know," he added suddenly, "I would call it _Exchange_, that's +all. My word, Julie, I believe I could do it." He straightened himself, +and walked across the room and back again, once or twice. "I believe I +could: I feel it tingling in me; but it's all formless, if you +understand; I've no plot. It's just what I feel as I sit there in a +theatre, as we did just now." + +Julie leaned forward and took the cigarette she had just refused. She lit +it herself with a half-burnt match, and Peter stood and watched her, but +hardly saw what she was doing. She was as conscious of his preoccupation +as if it were something physical about him. + +"Explain, my dear," she said, leaning back and staring into the fire. + +"I don't know that I can," he replied, and she felt as if he did not +speak to her. "It's the bigness of it all, the beauty, the triumphant +success. It's drawn that great house full, lured them in, the thousands +of them, and it does so night after night. Tired people go there to be +refreshed, and sad people to be made gay, and people sick of life to +laugh and forget it. It's the world's big anodyne. It offers a great +exchange. And all for a few shillings, Julie, and for a few hours. The +sensation lingers, but one has to go again and again. It tricks one into +thinking, almost, that it's the real thing, that one can dance like +mayflies in the sun. Only, Julie, there comes an hour when down sinks the +sun, and what of the mayflies then?" + +Julie shifted her head ever so little. "Go on," she said, looking up +intently at him. + +He did not notice her, but her words roused him. He began to pace up and +down again, and her eyes followed him. "Why," he said excitedly, "don't +you see that it's a fraudulent exchange? It's a fraudulent exchange that +it offers, and it itself is an exchange as fraudulent as that which our +modern world is making. No, not our modern world only. We talk so big of +our modernity, when it's all less than the dust--this year's leaves, no +better than last year's, and fallen to-morrow. Rome offered the same +exchange, and even a better one, I think--the blood and lust and conflict +of the amphitheatre. But they're both exchanges, offered instead of the +great thing, the only great thing." + +"Which is, Peter?" + +"God, of course--Almighty God; Jesus, if you will, but I'm not in a mood +for the tenderness of that. It's God Himself Who offers tired and sad +people, and people sick of life, no anodyne, no mere rest, but stir and +fight and the thrill of things nobly done--nobly tried, Julie, even if +nobly failed. Can't you see it? And you and I to-night have been looking +at what the world offers--in exchange." + +He ceased and dropped into a chair the other side of the fire. A silence +fell on them. Then Julie gave a little shiver. "Peter, dear," she said +tenderly, "I'm a little tired and cold." + +He was up at once and bending over her. "My darling, what a beast I am! +I clean forgot you for a minute. What will you have? What about a hot +toddy? Shall I make one?" he demanded, smiling. "Donovan taught me how, +and I'm really rather good at it." + +She smiled back at him, and put her hand up to smooth his hair. "That +would be another exchange, Peter," she said, "and I don't want it. Only +one thing can warm me to-night and give me rest." + +He read what she meant in her eyes, and knelt beside the chair to put his +arms around her. She leaned her face on his shoulder, and returned the +kisses that he showered upon her. "Poor mayflies," she said to herself, +"how they love to dance in the sun!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Ever after that next day, the Saturday, will remain in Peter's memory as +a time by itself, of special significance, but a significance, except for +one incident, very hard to place. It began, indeed, very quietly, and +very happily. They breakfasted again in their own room, and Julie was +in one of her subdued moods, if one ever could say she was subdued. +Afterwards Peter lit a cigarette and strolled over to the window. "It's a +beastly day," he said, "cloudy, cold, windy, and going to rain, I think. +What shall we do? Snow up in the hotel all the time?" + +"No," said Julie emphatically, "something quite different. You shall show +me some of the real London sights, Westminster Abbey to begin with. Then +we'll drive along the Embankment and you shall tell me what everything +is, and we'll go and see anything else you suggest. I don't suppose +you realise, Peter, that I'm all but absolutely ignorant of London." + +He turned and smiled on her. "And you really _want_ to see these things?" +he said. + +"Yes, of course I do. You don't think I suggested it for your benefit? +But if it will make you any happier, I'll flatter you a bit. I want to +see those things now, with you, partly because I'm never likely to find +anyone who can show me them better. Now then. Aren't you pleased?" + +At that, then, they started. Westminster came first, and they wandered +all over it and saw as much as the conditions of war had left for the +public to see. It amused Peter to show Julie the things that seemed to +him to have a particular interest--the Chapter House, St. Faith's Chapel, +the tomb of the Confessor, and so on. She made odd comments. In St. +Faith's she said: "I don't say many prayers, Peter, but here I couldn't +say one." + +"Why not?" he demanded. + +"Because it's too private," she said quaintly. "I should think I was +pretending to be a saint if I went past everybody else and the vergers +and things into a little place like this all by myself. Everyone would +know that I was doing something which most people don't do. See? Why +don't people pray all over the church, as they do in France in a +cathedral, Peter?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Come on," he said; "your notions are all +topsy-turvy, Julie. Come and look at the monuments." + +They wandered down the transept, and observed the majesty of England in +stone, robed in togas, declaiming to the Almighty, and obviously +convinced that He would be intensely interested; or perhaps dying in the +arms of a semi-dressed female, with funeral urns or ships or cannon +in the background; or, at least in one case, crouching hopelessly, before +the dart of a triumphant death. Julie was certainly impressed, "They are +all like ancient Romans, Peter," she said, "and much more striking than +those Cardinals and Bishops and Kings, kneeling at prayer, in Rouen +Cathedral. But, still, they were _not_ ancient Romans, were they? They +were all Christians, I suppose. Is there a Christian monument anywhere +about?" + +"I don't know," said Peter, "but we'll walk round and see." + +They made a lengthy pilgrimage, and finally Peter arrested her. "Here's +one," he said. + +A Georgian Bishop in bas-relief looked down on them, fat and comfortable. +In front of him was a monstrous cup, and a plate piled with biggish +squares of stone. Julie did not realise what it was. "What's he doing +with all that lump-sugar?" she demanded. + +Peter was really a bit horrified. "You're an appalling pagan," he said. +"Come away!" And they came. + +They roamed along the Embankment. Julie was as curious as a child, and +wanted to know all about everything, from Boadicea, Cleopatra's Needle, +and the Temple Church, to Dewar's Whisky Works and the Hotel Cecil. +Thereabouts, Julie asked the name of the squat tower and old red-brick +buildings opposite, and when she heard it was Lambeth Palace instantly +demanded to visit it. Peter was doubtful if they could, but they crossed +to see, and they were shown a good deal by the courtesy of the +authorities. The Archbishop was away, to Peter's great relief, for as +likely as not Julie would have insisted on an introduction, but they +saw the chapel and the dining-hall amongst other things. The long line +of portraits fascinated her, but not as it fascinated Peter. The +significance of the change in the costumes of the portraits struck +him for the first time--first the cope and mitre and cross, then the +skull-cap and the tippet, then the balloon-sleeves and the wig, then the +coat and breeches and white cravat, then the academic robes, and then a +purple cassock. Its interest to Julie was other, however. "Peter," she +whispered, "perhaps you'll be there one day." + +He looked at her sharply, but she was not mocking him, and, marvelling at +her simplicity and honest innocence, he relaxed into a smile. "Not very +likely, my dear," he said. "In other days a pleasant underground cell in +the Lollards' Tower would have been more likely." + +Then, of course, Julie must see the famous tower, and see a little of it +they did. She wanted to know what Lollardy was; their guide attempted an +explanation. Julie was soon bored. "I can't see why people make such a +bother about such things," she said. "A man's religion is his own +business, surely, and he must settle it for himself. Don't you think so, +Peter?" + +"Is it his own business only?" he asked gravely. + +"Whose else should it be?" she demanded. + +"God's," said Peter simply. + +Julie stared at him and sighed. "You're very odd, Peter," she said, "but +you do say things that strike one as being true. Go on." + +"Oh, there's no more to say," said Peter, "except, perhaps, this: if +anyone or any Church honestly believed that God had committed His share +in the business to them--well, then he might justifiably feel that he or +it had a good deal to do with the settling of another man's religion. +Hence this tower, Julie, and as a matter of fact, my dear, hence me, past +and present. But come on." + +She took his arm with a little shiver which he was beginning to notice +from time to time in her. "It's a horrible idea, Peter," she said. "Yes, +let's go." + +So their taxi took them to Buckingham Palace and thereabouts, and by +chance they saw the King and Queen. Their Majesties drove by smartly in +morning dress with a couple of policemen ahead, and a few women waved +handkerchiefs, and Peter came to the salute, and Julie cheered. The Queen +turned towards where she was standing, and bowed, and Peter noticed, +amazed, that the eyes of the Colonial girl were wet, and that she did not +attempt to hide it. + +He had to question her. "I shouldn't have thought you'd have felt about +royalty like that, Julie," he said. + +"Well, I do," she said, "and I don't care what you say. Only I wish +they'd go about with the Life Guards. The King's a King to me. I suppose +he is only a man, but I don't want to think of him so. He stands for the +Empire and for the Flag, and he stands for England too. I'd obey that man +almost in anything, right or wrong, but I don't know that I'd obey anyone +else." + +"Then you're a survival of the Dark Ages," he said. + +"Don't be a beast!" said Julie. + +"All right, you're not, and indeed I don't know if I am right. Very +likely you're the very embodiment of the spirit of the Present Day. +Having lost every authority, you crave for one." + +Julie considered this. "There may be something in that," she said. "But I +don't like you when you're clever. It was the King, and that's enough for +me. And I don't want to see anything more. I'm hungry; take me to lunch." + +Peter laughed. "That's it," he said--"like the follower of Prince Charlie +who shook hands once with his Prince and then vowed he would never shake +hands with anyone again. So you've seen the King, and you won't see +anything else, only your impression won't last twelve hours, +fortunately." + +"I don't suppose the other man kept his vow," said Julie. "For one thing, +no man ever does. Come on!" + +And so they drifted down the hours until the evening theatre and +_Carminetta_. They said and did nothing in particular, but they just +enjoyed themselves. In point of fact, they were emotionally tired, and, +besides, they wanted to forget how the time sped by. The quiet day was, +in its own way too, a preparation for the evening feast, and they were +both in the mood to enjoy the piece intensely when it came. The +magnificence of the new theatre in which it was staged all helped. Its +wide, easy stairways, its many conveniences, its stupendous auditorium, +its packed house, ushered it well in. Even the audience seemed different +from that of last night. + +Julie settled herself with a sigh of satisfaction to listen and watch. +And they both grew silent as the opera proceeded. At first Julie could +not contain her delight. "Oh, she's perfect, Peter," she exclaimed--"a +little bit of life! Look how she shakes her hair back and how impudent +she is--just like one of those French girls you know too much about! And +she's boiling passion too. And a regular devil. I love her, Peter!" + +"She's very like you, Julie," said Peter. + +Julie flashed a look at him. "Rubbish!" she said, but was silent. + +They watched while Carminetta set herself to win her bet and steal the +heart of the hero from the Governor's daughter. They watched her force +the palace ballroom, and forgot the obvious foolishness of a great deal +of it in the sense of the drama that was being worked out. The whole +house grew still. The English girl, with her beauty, her civilisation, +her rank and place, made her appeal to her fiancé; and the Spanish +bastard dancer, with her daring, her passion, her naked humanity, so +coarse and so intensely human, made her appeal also. And they watched +while the young conventionally-bred officer hesitated; they watched till +Carminetta won. + +Julie, leaning forward, held her breath and gazed at the beautiful +fashionable room on the stage, gazed through the open French windows to +the moonlit garden and the night beyond, and gazed, though at last she +could hardly see, at the Spanish girl. That great renunciation held them +both entranced. So bitter-sweet, so humanly divine, the passionate, +heart-broken, heroic song of farewell, swelled and thrilled about them. +And with the last notes the child of the gutter reached up and up till +she made the supreme self-sacrifice, and stepped out of the gay room into +the dark night for the sake of the man she loved too much to love. + +Then Julie bowed her head into her hands, and in the silence and darkness +of their box burst into tears. And so, for the first and last time, Peter +heard her really weep. + +He said foolish man-things to comfort her. She looked up at last, +smiling, her brown eyes challengingly brave through her tears, "Peter, +forgive me," she said. "I shouldn't be such a damned fool! You never +thought I could be like that, did you? But it was so superbly done, +I couldn't help it. It's all over now--all over, Peter," she added +soberly. "I want to sit in the lounge to-night for a little, if you don't +mind. Could you possibly get a taxi? I don't want to walk." + +It was difficult to find one. Finally Peter and another officer +made a bolt simultaneously and each got hold of a door of a car that +was just coming up. Both claimed it, and the chauffeur looked round +good-humouredly at the disputants. "Settle it which-hever way you like, +gents," he said. "Hi don't care, but settle it soon." + +"Let's toss," said Peter. + +"Right-o," said the other man, and produced a coin. + +"Tails," whispered Julie behind Peter, and "Tails!" he called. + +The coin spun while the little crowd looked on in amusement, and tails it +was. "Damn!" said the other, and turned away. + +"A bad loser, Peter," said Julie; "and he's just been seeing +_Carminetta_, too! But am I not lucky! I almost always win." + +In the palm lounge Julie was very cheerful. "Coffee, Peter," she said, +"and liqueurs." + +"No drinks after nine-thirty," said the waiter. "Sorry, sir." + +Julie laughed. "I nearly swore, Peter," she said, "but I remembered in +time. If one can't get what one wants, one has to go without singing. But +I'll have a cigarette, not to say two, before we've finished. And I'm in +no hurry; I want to sit on here and pretend it's not Saturday night. And +I want to go very slowly to bed, and I don't want to sleep." + +"Is that the effect of the theatre?" asked Peter. "And why so different +from last night?" + +Julie evaded. "Don't you feel really different?" she demanded. + +"Yes," he said. + +"How?" + +"Well, I don't want to preach any sermon to-night. It's been preached." + +Julie drew hard on her cigarette, and blew out a cloud of smoke. "It has, +Peter," she said merrily, "and thank the Lord I am therefore spared +another." + +"You're very gay about it now, Julie, but you weren't at first. That play +made me feel rather miserable too. No, I think it made me feel small. +Carminetta was great, wasn't she? I don't know that there is anything +greater than that sort of sacrifice. And it's far beyond me," said Peter. + +Julie leaned back and hummed a bar or two that Peter recognised from the +last great song of the dancer. "Well, my dear, I was sad, wasn't I?" she +said. "But it's over. There's no use in sadness, is there?" + +Peter did not reply, and started as Julie suddenly laughed. "Oh, good +Lord, Peter!" she exclaimed, "to what _are_ you bringing me? Do you know +that I'm about to quote Scripture? And I damn-well shall if we sit on +here! Let's walk up Regent Street; I can't sit still. Come on." She +jumped up. + +"Just now," he said, "you wanted to sit still for ages, and now you want +to walk. What is the matter with you, Julie? And what was the text?" + +"That would be telling!" she laughed. "But can't I do anything I like, +Peter?" she demanded. "Can't I go and get drunk if I like, Peter, or sit +still, or dance down Regent Street, or send you off to bed and pick up a +nice boy? It would be easy enough here. Can't I, Peter?" + +Her mood bewildered him, and, without in the least understanding why, +he resented her levity. But he tried to hide it. "Of course you can," +he said lightly; "but you don't really want to do those things, do +you--especially the last, Julie?" + +She stood there looking at him, and then, in a moment, the excitement +died out of her voice and eyes. She dropped into a chair again. "No, +Peter," she said, "I don't. That's the marvel of it. I expect I shall, +one of these days, do most of those things, and the last as well, but I +don't think I'll ever _want_ to do them again. And that's what you've +done to me, my dear." + +Peter was very moved. He slipped his hand out and took hers under cover +of her dress. "My darling," he whispered, "I owe you everything. You +have given me all, and I won't hold back all from you. Do you remember, +Julie, that once I said I thought I loved you more than God? Well, I know +now--oh yes, I believe I do know now. But I choose you, Julie." + +Her eyes shone up at him very brightly, and he could not read them +altogether. But her lips whispered, and he thought he understood. + +"Oh, Peter, my dearest," she said, "thank God I have at least heard you +say that. I wouldn't have missed you saying those words for anything, +Peter." + +So might the serving-girl in Pilate's courtyard have been glad, had she +been in love. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Part at least of Julie's programme was fulfilled to the letter, for they +lay long in bed talking--desultory, reminiscent talk, which sent Peter's +mind back over the months and the last few days, even after Julie was +asleep in the bed next his. Like a pageant, he passed, in review scene +after scene, turning it over, and wondering at significances that he had +not before, imagined. He recalled their first meeting, that instantaneous +attraction, and he asked himself what had caused it. Her spontaneity, +freshness, and utter lack of conventionality, he supposed, but that did +not seem to explain all. He wondered at the change that had even then +come about in himself that he should have been so entranced by her, He +went over his early hopes and fears; he thought again of conversations +with Langton; and he realised afresh how true it was that the old +authorities had dwindled away; that no allegiance had been left; that his +had been a citadel without a master. And then Julie moved through his +days again--Julie at Caudebec, daring, iconoclastic, free; Julie at +Abbeville, mysterious, passionate, dominant; Julie at Dieppe--ah, Julie +at Dieppe! He marvelled that he had held out so long after Dieppe, and +then Louise rose before him. He understood Louise less than Julie, +perhaps, and with all the threads in his hand he failed to see the +pattern. He turned over restlessly. It was easy to see how they had come +to be in London; it would have been more remarkable if they had not so +come together; but now, what now? He could not sum up Julie amid the +shifting scenes of the last few days. She had been so loving, and yet, +in a way, their love had reached no climax. It had, indeed, reached what +he would once have thought a complete and ultimate climax, but plainly +Julie did not think so. And nor did he--now. The things of the spirit +were, after all, so much greater than the things of the flesh. The Julie +of Friday night had been his, but of this night...? He rolled over again. +What had she meant at the play? He told himself her tears were simple +emotion, her laughter simple reaction, but he knew it was not true.... + +And for himself? Well, Julie was Julie. He loved her intensely. She could +stir him to anything almost. He loved to be with her, to see her, to hear +her, but he did not feel satisfied. He knew that. He told himself that he +was an introspective fool; that nothing ever would seem to satisfy +him; that the centre of his life _was_ and would be Julie; that she was +real, tinglingly, intensely real; but he knew that that was not the last +word. And then and there he resolved that the last word should be spoken +on the morrow, that had, indeed, already come by the clock: she should +promise to marry him. + +He slept, perhaps, for an hour or two, but he awoke with the dawn. The +grey light was stealing in at the windows, and Julie slept beside him in +the bed between. He tried to sleep again, but could not, and, on a +sudden, had an idea. He got quietly out of bed. + +"What is it, Peter?" said Julie sleepily. + +He went round and leaned over her. "I can't sleep any more, dearest," he +said. "I think I'll dress and go for a bit of a walk. Do you mind? I'll +be in to breakfast." + +"No," she said. "Go if you want to. You are a restless old thing!" + +He dressed silently, and kept the bathroom door closed as he bathed and +shaved. She was asleep again as he stole out, one arm flung loosely on +the counterpane, her hair untidy on the pillow. He kissed a lock of it, +and let himself quietly out of their suite. + +It was still very early, and the Circus looked empty and strange. He +walked down Piccadilly, and wondered at the clean, soft touch of the +dawning day, and recalled another memorable Sunday morning walk. He +passed very familiar places, and was conscious of feeling an exile, an +inevitable one, but none the less an exile, for all that. And so he came +into St. James's Park, still as aimlessly as he had left the hotel. + +Before him, clear as a pointing finger in the morning sky, was the +campanile of that stranger among the great cathedrals of England. It +attracted him for the first time, and he made all but unconsciously +towards it, Peter was not even in the spiritual street that leads to the +gates of the Catholic Church, and it was no incipient Romanism that moved +him. He was completely ignorant of the greater part of that faith, and, +still more, had no idea of the gulf that separates it from all other +religions. He would have supposed, if he had stopped to think, that, as +with other sects, one considered its tenets, made up one's mind as to +their truth or falsehood one by one, and if one believed a sufficient +majority of them joined the Church. It was only, then, the mood of the +moment, and when, he found himself really moving towards that finger-post +he excused himself by thinking that as he was, by his own act, exiled, +from, more familiar temples, he would visit this that would have about it +a suggestion of France. + +He wondered if it would be open as he turned into Ashley Gardens. He +glanced at his watch; it was only just after seven. Perhaps an early Mass +might be beginning. He went to the central doors and found them fast; +then he saw little groups of people and individuals like himself making +for the door in the great tower, and these he followed within. + +He stood amazed for a few minutes. The vast soaring space, so austere in +its bare brick, gripped his imagination. The white and red and gold of +the painted Christ that hung so high and monstrous before the entrance to +the marbles of the sanctuary almost troubled him. It dominated everything +so completely that he felt he could not escape it. He sought one of the +many chairs and knelt down. + +A little bell tinkled, Peter glanced sideways towards the sound, and +saw that a Mass was in progress in a side-chapel of gleaming mosaics, +and that a soldier in uniform served. Hardly had he taken the details +in, when another bell claimed his attention. It came from across the +wide nave, and he perceived that another chapel had its Mass, and a +considerable congregation. And then, his attention aroused, he began to +spy about and to take in the thing. + +The whole vast cathedral was, as it were, alive. Seven or eight Masses +were in progress. One would scarcely finish before another priest, +preceded by soldier in uniform or server in cassock and cotta, would +appear from beyond the great pulpit and make his way to yet another +altar. The small handbells rang out again and again and again, and still +priest after priest was there to take his place. Peter began cautiously +to move about. He became amazed at the size of the congregation. They had +been lost in that great place, but every chapel had its people, and there +were, in reality, hundreds scattered about in the nave alone. + +He knelt for awhile and watched the giving of Communion in the guarded +chapel to the north of the high altar. Its gold and emblazoned gates were +not for him, but he could at least kneel and watch those who passed in +and out. They were of all sorts and classes, of all ranks and ages; men, +women, children, old and young, rich and poor, soldier and civilian, +streamed in and out again. Peter sighed and left them. He found an altar +at which Mass was about to begin, and he knelt at the back on a mosaic +pavement in which fishes and strange beasts were set in a marble stream, +and watched. And it was not one Mass that he watched, but two or three, +and it was there that a vision grew on his inner understanding, as he +knelt and could not pray. + +It is hard and deceptive to write of those subconscious imaginings that +convict the souls of most men some time or another. In that condition +things are largely what we fashion them to be, and one may be thought to +be asserting their ultimate truth in speaking of their influence. But +there is no escaping from the fact that Peter Graham of a lost allegiance +began that Sunday morning to be aware of another claimant. And this is +what dawned upon him, and how. + +A French memory gave him a starting-point. Here, at these Low Masses, it +was more abundantly plain than ever that these priests did not conceive +themselves to be serving a congregation, but an altar. One after the +other they moved through a ritual, and spoke low sentences that hardly +reached him, with their eyes holden by that which they did. At first he +was only conscious of this, but then he perceived the essential change +that came over each in his turn. The posturing and speaking was but +introductory to the moment when they raised the Host and knelt before it. +It was as if they were but functionaries ushering in a King, and then +effacing themselves before Him. + +Here, then, the Old Testament of Peter's past became to him a +schoolmaster. He heard himself repeating again the comfortable words of +the Prayer-Book service: "Come unto Me...." "God so loved...." "If any +man sin...." Louise's hot declaration forced itself upon him: "It is He +Who is there." And it was then that the eyes of his mind were enlightened +and he saw a vision--not, indeed, of the truth of the Roman Mass (if it +be true), and not of the place of the Sacrament in the Divine scheme of +things, but the conception of a love so great that it shook him as if +it were a storm, and bowed him before it as if he were a reed. + +The silent, waiting Jesus.... All these centuries, in every land.... How +He had been mocked, forgotten, spurned, derided, denied, cast out; and +still He waited. Prostitutes of the streets, pardoned in a word, advanced +towards Him, and He knew that so shortly again, within the secret place +of their hearts, He would be crucified; but still He waited. Careless +men, doubtless passion-mastered, came up to Him, and He knew the sort +that came; but still He waited. He, Peter, who had not known He was here +at all, and who had gone wandering off in search of any mistress, spent +many days, turned in by chance, and found Him here. What did He wait for? +Nothing; there was nothing that anyone could give, nothing but a load of +shame, the offering of a body spent by passionate days, the kiss of +traitor-lips; but still He waited. He did more than wait. He offered +Himself to it all. He had bound Himself by an oath to be kissed if Judas +planned to kiss Him, and He came through the trees to that bridal with +the dawn of every day. He had foreseen the chalice, foreseen that it +would be filled at every moon and every sun by the bitter gall of +ingratitude and wantonness and hate, but He had pledged Himself--"Even +so, Father"--and He was here to drink it. Small wonder, then, that the +paving on which Peter Graham knelt seemed to swim before his eyes until +it was in truth a moving ocean of love that streamed from the altar and +enclosed of every kind, and even him. + +The movement of chairs and the gathering of a bigger congregation than +usual near a chapel that Peter perceived to be for the dead aroused him. +He got up to go. He walked quickly up Victoria Street, and marvelled over +the scene he had left. In sight of Big Ben he glanced up--twenty to nine! +He had been, then, an hour and a half in the cathedral. He recalled +having read that a Mass took half an hour, and he began to reckon how +many persons had heard Mass even while he had been there. Not less than +five hundred at every half-hour, and most probably more. Fifteen hundred +to two thousand souls, of every sort and kind, then, had been drawn in to +that all but silent ceremony, to that showing of Jesus crucified. A +multitude--and what compassion! + +Thus he walked home, thinking of many things, but the vision he had seen +was uppermost and would not be displaced. It was still in his eyes as he +entered their bedroom and found Julie looking at a magazine as she lay in +bed, smoking a cigarette. + +"Lor', Peter, are you back? I suppose I ought to be up, but I was so +sleepy. What's the time? Why, what's the matter? Where have you been?" + +Peter did not go over to her at once as she had expected. It was not that +he felt he could not, or anything like that, but simply that he was only +thinking of her in a secondary way. He walked to the dressing-table and +lifted the flowers she had worn the night before and put there in a +little glass. + +"Where have you been, old Solomon?" demanded Julie again. + +"Seeing wonders, Julie," said Peter, looking dreamily at the blossoms. + +"No? Really? What? Do tell me. If it was anything I might have seen, you +were a beast not to come back for me, d'you hear?" + +Peter turned and stared at her, but she knew as he looked that he hardly +saw her. Her tone changed, and she made a little movement with her hand, +"Tell me, Peter," she said again. + +"I've seen," said Peter slowly, "a bigger thing than I thought the world +could hold, I've seen something so wonderful, Julie, that it hurt--oh, +more than I can say. I've seen Love, Julie." + +She could not help it. It was a foolish thing to say just then, she knew, +but it came out. "Oh, Peter," she said, "did you have to leave me to see +that?" + +"Leave you?" he questioned, and for a moment so lost in his thought was +he that he did not understand what she meant. Then it dawned on him, and +he smiled. He did not see as he stood there, the clumsy Peter, how the +two were related. So he smiled, and he came over to her, and took her +hand, and sat on the bed, his eyes still full of light. "Oh, you've +nothing to do with it," he said. "It's far bigger than you or I, Julie. +Our love is like a candle held up to the sun beside it. Our love wants +something, doesn't it? It burns, it--it intoxicates, Julie. But this love +waits, _waits_, do you understand? It asks nothing; it gives, it suffices +all. Year after year it just waits, Julie, waits for anyone, waits for +everyone. And you can spurn it, spit on it, crucify it, and it is still +there when you--need, Julie." And Peter leaned forward, and buried his +face in her little hand. + +Julie heard him through, and it was well that before the end he did not +see her eyes. Then she moved her other hand which held the half-burnt +cigarette and dropped the smoking end (so that it made a little hiss) +into her teacup on the glass-topped table, and brought her hand back, and +caressed his hair as he lay bent forward there. "Dear old Peter," she +said tenderly, "how he thinks things! And when you saw this--this love, +Peter, how did you feel?" + +He did not answer for a minute, and when he did he did not raise his +head. "Oh, I don't know, Julie," he said. "It went through and through +me. It was like a big sea, and it flooded me away. It filled me. I seemed +to drink it in at every pore. I felt satisfied just to be there." + +"And then you came back to Julie, eh, Peter?" she questioned. + +"Why, of course," he said, sitting up with a smile. "Why not?" He gave a +little laugh. "Why, Julie," he said, "I never thought of that before. I +suppose I ought to have been--oh, I don't know, but our days together +didn't seem to make any difference. That Love was too big. It seemed +to me to be too big to be--well, jealous, I suppose." + +She nodded. "That would be just it, Peter. That's how it would seem +to you. You see, I know. It's strange, my dear, but I don't feel +either--jealous." + +He frowned. "What do you mean?" he said. "Don't you understand? It was +God's Love that I saw." + +She hesitated a second, and then her face relaxed into a smile. "You're +as blind as a bat, my dear, but I suppose all men are, and so you can't +help it. Now go and ring for breakfast and smoke a cigarette in the +sitting-room while I dress." And Peter, because he hated to be called a +bat and did not feel in the least like one, went. + +He rang the bell, and the maid answered it. She did not wait for him to +give his order, but advanced towards him, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, sir," +she said, "is madame up? I don't know how to thank her, and you too. I've +wanted a frame for Jack's picture, but I couldn't get a real good one, +I couldn't. When I sees this parcel I couldn't think _what_ it was. I +forgot even as how I'd give the lady my name. Oh, she's the real good +one, she is. You'll forgive me, sir, but I know a real lady when I see +one. They haven't got no airs, and they know what a girl feels like, +right away. I put Jack in it, sir, on me table, and if there's anything +I can do for you or your lady, now or ever, I'll do it, sir." + +Peter smiled at the little outburst, but his heart warmed within him. How +just like Julie it was! "Well," he said, "it's the lady you've really to +thank. Knock, if you like; I expect she'll let you in. And then order +breakfast, will you? Bacon and eggs and some fish. Thanks." And he turned +away. + +She made for the door, but stopped, "I near forgot, sir," she said. "A +gentleman left this for you last night, and they give it to me at the +office--this morning. There was no answer, he said. He went by this +morning's train." She handed Peter an unstamped envelope bearing the +hotel's name, and left the room as he opened it. He did not recognise +the handwriting, but he tore it open and glanced at once at the +signature, and got a very considerable surprise, not to say a shock. +It was signed "Jack Donovan." + +"MY DEAR GRAHAM, [the letter ran], + +"Forgive me for writing, but I must tell you that I've seen you twice +with Julie (and each time neither of you saw anyone else but +yourselves!). It seems mean to see you and not say so, but for the Lord's +sake don't think it'll go further, or that I reproach you. I've been +there myself, old bird, and in any case I don't worry about other +people's shows. But I want to tell you a bit of news--Tommy Raynard and I +have fixed it up. I know you'll congratulate me. She's topping, and just +the girl for me--no end wiser than I, and as jolly as anyone, really. I +don't know how you and Julie are coming out of it, and I won't guess, for +it's a dreadful war; but maybe you'll be able to sympathise with me at +having to leave _my_ girl in France! However, I'm off back to-morrow, a +day before you. If you hadn't run off to Paris, you'd have known. My +leave order was from Havre. + +"Well, cheerio. See you before long. And just one word, my boy, from a +fellow who has seen a bit more than you (if you'll forgive me): remember, +_Julie'll know best_. + +"Yours, ever, +"JACK DONOVAN." + +Peter frowned over his letter, and then smiled, and then frowned again. +He was still at it when he heard Julie's footstep outside, and he thrust +the envelope quickly into his pocket, thinking rapidly. He did not in the +least understand what the other meant, especially by the last sentence, +and he wanted to consider it before showing Julie. Also, he wondered +if it was meant to be shown to Julie at all. He thought not; probably +Donovan was absolutely as good as his word, and would not even mention +anything to Tommy. But he thought no more, for Julie was on him. + +"Peter, it's started to rain! I knew it would. Why does it always rain on +Sundays in London? Probably the heavens themselves weep at the sight of +so gloomy a city. However, I don't care a damn! I've made up my mind what +we're going to do. We shall sit in front of the fire all the morning, +and you shall read to me. Will you?" + +"Anything you like, my darling," he said; "and we couldn't spend a better +morning. But bacon and eggs first, eh? No, fish first, I mean. But pour +out a cup of tea at once, for Heaven's sake. _I_ haven't had a drop this +morning." + +"Poor old thing! No wonder you're a bit off colour. No early tea after +that champagne last night! But, oh, Peter, wasn't _Carminetta_ a dream?" + +Breakfast over, Peter sat in a chair and bent over her. "What do you want +me to read, Julie darling?" he demanded. + +She considered. "_Not_ a magazine, _not La Vie Parisienne_, though we +might perhaps look at the pictures part of the time. I know! Stop! I'll +get it," She ran out and returned with a little leather-covered book. +"Read it right through, Peter," she said. "I've read it heaps of times, +but I want to hear it again to-day. Do you mind?" + +"Omar Khayyám!" exclaimed Peter. "Good idea! He's a blasphemous old +pagan, but the verse is glorious and it fits in at times. Do you want me +to start at once?" + +"Give me a cigarette! no, put the box there. Stir up the fire. Come and +sit on the floor with your back to me. That's right. Now fire away." + +She leaned back and he began. He read for the rhythm; she listened for +the meaning. He read to the end; she hardly heard more than a stanza: + +"Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! +One thing at least is certain--_this_ Life flies; +One thing is certain, and the rest is lies-- +The flower that once has blown for ever dies." + +They lunched in the hotel, and at the table Peter put the first necessary +questions that they both dreaded. "I'm going to tell them to make out my +bill, Julie," he said. "I've to be at Victoria at seven-thirty a.m. +to-morrow, you know. You've still got some leave, haven't you, dear; what +are you going to do? How long will you stay on here?" + +"Not after you've gone, Peter," she said. "Let them make it out for me +till after breakfast to-morrow." + +"But what are we going to do?" he demanded. + +"Oh, don't ask. It spoils to-day to think of to-morrow. Go to my friends, +perhaps--yes, I think that. It's only for a few days now." + +"Oh, Julie, I wish I could stay." + +"So do I, but you can't, so don't worry. What about this afternoon?" + +"If it's stopped raining, let's go for a walk, shall we?" + +They settled on that, and it was Julie who took him again to St. James's +Park. As they walked: "Where did you go to church this morning, Peter?" +she asked. + +He pointed to the campanile. "Over there," he said. + +"Then let's go together to-night," she said. + +"Do you mean it, Julie?" + +"Of course I do. I'm curious. Besides, it's Sunday, and I want to go to +church." + +"But you'll miss dinner," objected Peter. "It begins at six-thirty." + +"Well, let's get some food out--Victoria Station, for instance. Won't +that do? We can have some supper sent up afterwards in the hotel." + +Peter agreed, but they did not go to the station. In a little cafe +outside Julie saw a South African private eating eggs and bacon, and +nothing would do but that they must do the same. So they went in. They +ate off thick plates, and Julie dropped the china pepper-pot on her eggs +and generally behaved as if she were at a school-treat. But it was a +novelty, and it kept their thoughts off the fact that it was the last +night. And finally they went to church. + +The service did not impress Peter, and every time he looked at Julie's +face he wanted to laugh; but the atmosphere of the place did, though he +could not catch the impression of the morning. For the sermon, a +stoutish, foreign-looking ecclesiastic mounted the pulpit, and they both +prepared to be bored. However, he gave out his text, and Peter sat bolt +upright at once. It would have delighted the ears of his Wesleyan +corporal of the Forestry; and more than that it was the text he had +quoted in the ears of the dying Jenks. He prepared keenly to listen. As +for Julie, she was regarding the altar with a far-away look in her eyes, +and she scarcely moved the whole time. + +Outside, as soon as they were out of the crowd, Peter began at once. + +"Julie," he said, "whatever did you think of that sermon?" + +"What did you?" she said. "Tell me first." + +"I don't believe you listened at all, but I can't help talking of it. It +was amazing. He began by speaking about Adam and Eve and original sin and +the Garden of Eden as if he'd been there. There might never have been a +Higher Critic in existence. Then he said what sin did, and that sin was +only truly sin if it did do that. _That_ was to hide the face of God, to +put Him and a human being absolutely out of communication, so to speak. +And then he came to Christ, to the Cross. Did you hear him, Julie? Christ +comes in between--He got in between God and man. All the anger that +darted out of God against sin hit Him; all the blows that man struck back +against God hit Him. Do you see that, Julie? That was wonderfully put, +but the end was more wonderful. Both, ultimately, cannot kill the Heart +of Jesus. There's no sin there to merit or to feel the anger, and we can +hurt, but we can't destroy His love." + +Peter stopped, "That's what I saw a little this morning," he said after a +minute. + +"Well?" said Julie. + +"Oh, it's all so plain! If there was a way to that Heart, one would be +safe. I mean, a way that is not an emotional idea, not a subjective +experience, but something practical. Some way that a Tommy could travel, +as easily as anyone, and get to a real thing. And he said there was a +way, and just sketched it, the Sacraments--more than ours, of course, +their seven, all of them more or less, I suppose. He meant that the +Sacraments were not signs of salvation, but salvation itself. Julie, I +never saw the idea before. It's colossal. It's a thing to which one might +dedicate one's life. It's a thing to live and die gladly for. It fills +one. Don't you think so, Julie?" He spoke exultantly. + +"Peter, to be honest," said Julie, "I think you're talking fanatical +rubbish." + +"Do you really, Julie? You can't, _surely_ you can't." + +"But I do, Peter," she said sadly; "it makes no appeal to me. I can only +see one great thing in life, and it's not that. 'The rest is lies,' But, +oh! surely that great thing might not be false too. But why do you see +one thing, and I another, my dear?" + +"I don't know," said Peter, "unless--well, perhaps it's a kind of gift, +Julie, 'If thou knewest the gift of God...' Not that I know, only I can +just see a great wonderful vision, and it fills my sight." + +"I, too," she said; "but it's not your vision." + +"What is it, then?" said he, carried away by his own ideas and hardly +thinking of her. + +Her voice brought him back. "Oh, Peter, don't you know even yet?" + +He took her arm very tenderly at that. "My darling," he said, "the two +aren't incompatible. Julie, don't be sad. I love you; you know I love +you. I wish we'd never gone to the place if you think I don't, but I +haven't changed towards you a bit, Julie. I love you far, far more than +anyone else. I won't give you up, even to God!" + +It was dark where they were. Julie lifted her face to him just there. He +thought he had never heard her speak as she spoke now, there, in a London +street, under the night sky. "Peter, my darling," she said, "my brave +boy. How I love you, Peter! I know _you_ won't give me up, Peter, and I +adore you for it. Peter, hell will be heaven with the memory of that!" +There, then, he sealed her with his kiss. + + * * * * * + +Julie stirred in his arms, but the movement did not wake him any more +than the knock of the door had done. "All right," she called. "Thank +you," and, leaning over, she switched on the light. It was 5.30, and +necessary. In its radiance she bent over him, and none of her friends had +ever seen her look as she did then. She kissed him, and he opened his +eyes. + +"Half-past five, Peter," she said, as gaily as she could. "You've got to +get a move on, my dear. Two hours to dress and pack and breakfast--no, I +suppose you can do that on the train. But you've got to get there. Oh, +Lord, how it brings the war home, doesn't it? Jump up!" + +Peter sighed. "Blast the war!" he said lazily. "I shan't move. Kiss me +again, you darling, and let your hair fall over my face." + +She did so, and its glossy curtain hid them. Beneath the veil she +whispered; "Come, darling, for my sake. The longer you stay here now, +the harder it will be." + +He threw his arms round her, and then jumped out of bed yawning. + +"That's it," she said. "Now go and shave and bath while I pack for you. +Hurry up; then we'll get more time." + +While he splashed about she sought for his things, and packed for him as +she never packed for herself. As she gathered them she thought of the +night before, when, overwhelmed in a tempest of love, it had all been +left for the morning. She filled the suit-case, but she could not fasten +it. + +"Come and help, Peter," she called. + +He came out. She was kneeling on it in her loose kimono, her hair all +about her, her nightdress open at the throat. He drank her beauty in, and +then mastered himself for a minute and shut the case. "That all?" she +queried. + +"Yes," he said. "You get back into bed, my darling, or you'll catch cold. +I'll be ready in a second, and then we can have a few minutes together." + +At the glass he marshalled his arguments, and then he came over to her. +He dropped by the bedside and wound his arms about her. "Julie," he +whispered, "my darling, say you'll marry me--please, _please_!" + +She made no reply. He kissed her, unresisting, again and again. + +"Julie," he said, "you know how I love you. You do know it. You know +I'm not begging you to marry me because I've got something out of +you, perhaps when you were carried away, and now I feel I must make +reparation. My darling, it isn't that. I love you so much that I can't +live without you. I'll give up everything for you. I want to start a new +life with you. I can't go back to the old, anyhow; I don't want to: it's +a sham to me now, and I hate shams--you know I do. But you're not a sham; +our love isn't a sham. I'd die for you, Julie, my own Julie; I'd die for +the least little bit of this hair of yours, I think! But I want to live +for you. I want to put you right in the centre of everything, and live +for you, Julie. Say 'Yes,' my love, my own. You must say 'Yes,' Why don't +you, Julie?" + +And still she made no reply. + +A kind of despair seized him. "Oh, Julie," he cried, "what can I say or +what can I do? You're cruel, Julie; you're killing me! You _must_ say +'Yes' before I go. We'll meet in Havre, I know; but that will be so +different. I must have my answer now. Oh, my darling, please, please, +speak! You love me, Julie, don't you?" + +"Peter," said Julie slowly, "I love you so much that I hardly dare speak, +lest my love should carry me away. But listen, my dear, listen. Peter, +I've watched you these days; I've watched you in France. I've watched you +from the moment when I called you over to me because I was interested +and felt my fate, I suppose. I've watched you struggling along, Peter, +and I understand why you've struggled. You're built for great things, my +dear--how great I can't see and I can't even understand. No, Peter, I +can't even understand--that's part of the tragedy of it. Peter, I love +you so that my love for you _is_ my centre, it's my all in all, it's my +hope of salvation, Peter. Do you hear, my darling?--my love, it's my one +hope! If I can't keep that pure and clean, Peter, I ruin both of us. I +love you so, Peter, that I won't marry you!" + +He gave a little cry, but swiftly she put a hand over his mouth. She +smiled at him as she did so, a daring little smile. "Be quiet, you +Solomon, you," she said; "I haven't finished. There! Now listen again, +Peter: you can't help it, but you can't love me as I love you. I see it. +I--I hate it, I think; but I know it, and there's an end. You, my dear, +you _would put me_ in the centre, but you can't. I can't put _you_ out of +_my_ centre, Peter. You _would_ give up God for me, Peter, but you can't, +or if you did, you'd lose us both. But I, Peter--oh, my darling, I have +no god but you. And that's why I'll worship you, Peter, and sacrifice to +you, Peter, sacrifice to your only ultimate happiness, Peter, and +sacrifice my all." + +He tried to speak, but he could not. The past days lay before him in a +clear light at last. Her love shone on them, and shone too plainly for +mistake. He tried to deny, but he couldn't; contradict, but his heart +cried the truth, and his eyes could not hide it. But he could and did +vent his passion. "Damn God! Curse Him!" he cried. "I hate Him! Why +should He master me? I want you, Julie; I will have you; I will worship +_you_, Julie!" + +She let him speak; and, being Julie, his words only brought a more tender +light into her face. "Peter," she said, "one minute. Do you remember +where you first kissed me, my darling?--the first real kiss, I mean," and +her eyes sparkled with fun even then. "You know--ah, I see you do! You +will never forget that, will you? Perhaps you thought I didn't notice, +but I did. Neither you nor I chose it; it was Fate; perhaps it was your +God, Peter. But, anyway, look at me now as you looked then. What do you +see?" + +He stared at her, and he saw--how clearly he saw! Her sweet back-bent +head, her shining eyes, the lamp-light falling on her hair out of the +night. He even heard the sea as it beat on the stones of the quay--or +thought he did--and felt the whip of the wind. And behind her, +dominating, arms outspread, the harbour crucifix. And she saw that he +saw, and she whispered: "_Do_ you hate Him, Peter?" And he sank his head +into her hands and sobbed great dry sobs. + +"Ah, don't, don't," he heard her say--"don't Peter! It's not so bad as +that. Your life is going to be full, my beloved, with a great and burning +love; and you were right this morning, Peter, more right than you knew. +When that is there you will have place even for me--yes, even for me, the +love of what you will call your sin. And I, my dear, dear boy, I have +something even now which no devil, Peter, and no god can take away." + +He looked up. "Then there's a chance, Julie. You won't say 'Yes,' but +don't say 'No.' Let us see. I shall take no vows, Julie. I haven't an +idea what I shall do, and maybe it won't be quite as you think, and there +will be a little room for you one day. Oh, say you'll wait a while, +Julie, just to see!" + +It was the supreme moment. She saw no crucifix to sustain her, but she +did see the bastard Spanish dancing-girl. And she did not hesitate. "No, +Peter," she said, "I would not take that, and you never could give it. I +did not mean such place as that. It never can be, Peter; you are not +made for me." + +And thus did Julie, who knew no God, but Julie of the brave, clean, +steadfast heart, give Peter to Him. + + * * * * * + +The maid came in answer to her ring. "Will you light a fire, please?" +said Julie. "I suppose Captain Graham has gone?" + +"Yes, mam, he's gone, and he felt it terrible, I could see. But don't you +fear, mam, he'll be kept, I know he will. You're that good, he'll come +back to you, never fear. But it's 'ard on those they leave, ain't it, +mam?--their wives an' all." + +"Yes," said Julie, and she never spoke more bravely. "But it's got to be, +hasn't it? Would you pull the blind up? Ah, thanks; why, it's sunny! I'm +so glad. It will be good for the crossing." + +"It will be that, 'm. We gets the sun first up here. Shall I bring up the +tea, madame?" + +"I'll ring," said Julie, "when I want it. It won't be for a few minutes +yet." + +The girl went out, and the door shut behind her. Julie lay on still for a +little, and then she got up. She walked to the window and looked out, and +she threw her arms wide with a gesture, and shut her eyes, and let the +sun fall on her. Then she walked to her little trunk, and rummaged in it. +From somewhere far down she drew out a leather case, and with it in her +hand she went over and sat by the fire. She held it without moving for a +minute, and then she slowly opened it. One by one she drew out a few +worthless things--a withered bunch of primroses, a couple of little +scribbled notes, a paper cap from a cracker, a menu card, a handkerchief +of her own that she had lent to him, and that he (just like Peter) had +given back. She held them all in her hand a minute, and then she bent +forward and dropped them in the open fire. + +And the sun rose a little higher, and fell on the tumbled brown hair that +Peter had kissed and that now hid her eyes. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Simon Called Peter, by Robert Keable + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIMON CALLED PETER *** + +***** This file should be named 14579-8.txt or 14579-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/5/7/14579/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/14579-8.zip b/old/14579-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..11d400c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14579-8.zip diff --git a/old/14579.txt b/old/14579.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e7780a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14579.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12400 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Simon Called Peter, by Robert Keable + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Simon Called Peter + +Author: Robert Keable + +Release Date: January 3, 2005 [EBook #14579] +Last updated: June 29, 2013 +Last updated: August 25, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIMON CALLED PETER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + SIMON CALLED PETER + + BY ROBERT KEABLE + + AUTHOR OF "THE DRIFT OF PINIONS," "STANDING BY," ETC. + + 1921 + + + + +THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO JULIE + +She never lived, maybe, but it is truer to say that she never dies. Nor +shall she ever die. One may believe in God, though He is hard to find, +and in Women, though such as Julie are far to seek. + + + + +THE AUTHOR TO THE READER + + +The glamour of no other evil thing is stronger than the glamour of war. +It would seem as if the cup of the world's sorrow as a result of war had +been filled to the brim again and again, but still a new generation has +always been found to forget. A new generation has always been found to +talk of the heroisms that the divine in us can manifest in the mouth of +hell and to forget that so great a miracle does not justify our creation +of the circumstance. + +Yet if ever war came near to its final condemnation it was in 1914-1918. +Our comrades died bravely, and we had been willing to die, to put an end +to it once and for all. Indeed war-weary men heard the noise of conflict +die away on November 11, 1918, thinking that that end had been attained. +It is not yet three years ago; a little time, but long enough for +betrayal. + +Long enough, too, for the making of many books about it all, wherein has +been recorded such heroisms as might make God proud and such horror as +might make the Devil weep. Yet has the truth been told, after all? Has +the world realized that in a modern war a nation but moves in uniform to +perform its ordinary tasks in a new intoxicating atmosphere? Now and +again a small percentage of the whole is flung into the pit, and, for +them, where one in ten was heavy slaughter, now one in ten is reasonable +escape. The rest, for the greater part of the time, live an unnatural +life, death near enough to make them reckless and far enough to make them +gay. Commonly men and women more or less restrain themselves because of +to-morrow; but what if there be no to-morrow? What if the dice are heavily +weighted against it? And what of their already jeoparded restraint when +the crisis has thrown the conventions to the winds and there is little +to lighten the end of the day? + +Thus to lift the veil on life behind the lines in time of war is a +thankless task. The stay-at-homes will not believe, and particularly +they whose smug respectability and conventional religion has been put +to no such fiery trial. Moreover they will do more than disbelieve; they +will say that the story is not fit to be told. Nor is it. But then it +should never have been lived. That very respectability, that very +conventionality, that very contented backboneless religion made it +possible--all but made it necessary. For it was those things which +allowed the world to drift into the war, and what the war was nine days +out of ten ought to be thrust under the eyes of those who will not +believe. It is a small thing that men die in battle, for a man has but +one life to live and it is good to give it for one's friends; but it is +such an evil that it has no like, this drifting of a world into a hell to +which men's souls are driven like red maple leaves before the autumn +wind. + +The old-fashioned pious books made hell stink of brimstone and painted +the Devil hideous. But Satan is not such a fool. Champagne and Martinis +do not taste like Gregory powder, nor was St. Anthony tempted by +shrivelled hags. Paganism can be gay, and passion look like love. +Moreover, still more truly, Christ could see the potentiality of virtue +in Mary Magdalene and of strength in Simon called Peter. The conventional +religious world does not. + +A curious feature, too, of that strange life was its lack of +consecutiveness. It was like the pages of _La Vie Parisienne_. The friend +of to-day was gone for ever to-morrow. A man arrived, weary and dirty and +craving for excitement, in some unknown town; in half an hour he had +stepped into the gay glitter of wine and women's smiles; in half a dozen +he had been whirled away. The days lingered and yet flew; the pages were +twirled ever more dazzlingly; only at the end men saw in a blinding flash +whither they had been led. + +These things, then, are set out in this book. This is its atmosphere. +They are truly set out. They are not white-washed; still less are they +pictured as men might have seen them in more sober moments, as the +Puritan world would see them now. Nor does the book set forth the +author's judgment, for that is not his idea of a novel. It sets out +what Peter and Julie saw and did, and what it appeared to them to be +while they did it. Very probably, then, the average reader had better +read no further than this.... + +But at any rate let him not read further than is written. The last page +has been left blank. It has been left blank for a reason, because the +curtain falls not on the conclusion of the lives of those who have +stepped upon the boards, but at a psychological moment in their story. +The Lord has turned to look upon Peter, and Julie has seen that He has +looked. It is enough; they were happy who, going down into the Valley of +the Shadow of Death, saw a vision of God's love even there. For the +Christ of Calvary moved to His Cross again but a few short years ago; and +it is enough in one book to tell how Simon failed to follow, but how +Jesus turned to look on Peter. + +R.K. + + + + +PART I + + Ah! is Thy love indeed +A weed, albeit an amaranthine weed, +Suffering no flowers except its own to mount? + Ah! must-- + Designer infinite!-- +Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it? + +FRANCIS THOMPSON. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +London lay as if washed with water-colour that Sunday morning, light blue +sky and pale dancing sunlight wooing the begrimed stones of Westminster +like a young girl with an old lover. The empty streets, clean-swept, were +bathed in the light, and appeared to be transformed from the streets of +week-day life. Yet the half of Londoners lay late abed, perhaps because +six mornings a week of reality made them care little for one of magic. + +Peter, nevertheless, saw little of this beauty. He walked swiftly as +always, and he looked about him, but he noticed none of these things. +True, a fluttering sheet of newspaper headlines impaled on the railings +of St. Margaret's held him for a second, but that was because its message +was the one that rang continually in his head, and had nothing at all to +do with the beauty of things that he passed by. + +He was a perfectly dressed young man, in a frock coat and silk hat of the +London clergyman, and he was on his way to preach at St. John's at the +morning service. Walking always helped him to prepare his sermons, and +this sermon would ordinarily have struck him as one well worth preparing. +The pulpit of St. John's marked a rung up in the ladder for him. That +great fashionable church of mid-Victorian faith and manners held a +congregation on Sunday mornings for which the Rector catered with care. +It said a good deal for Peter that he had been invited to preach. He +ought to have had his determined scheme plain before him, and a few +sentences, carefully polished, at hand for the beginning and the end. He +could trust himself in the middle, and was perfectly conscious of that. +He frankly liked preaching, liked it not merely as an actor loves to sway +his audience, but liked it because he always knew what to say, and was +really keen that people should see his argument. And yet this morning, +when he should have been prepared for the best he could do, he was not +prepared at all. + +Strictly, that is not quite true, for he had a text, and the text +absolutely focused his thought. But it was too big for him. Like some at +least in England that day, he was conscious of staring down a lane of +tragedy that appalled him. Fragments and sentences came and went in his +head. He groped for words, mentally, as he walked. Over and over again +he repeated his text. It amazed him by its simplicity; it horrified him +by its depth. + +Hilda was waiting at the pillar-box as she had said she would be, and +little as she could guess it, she irritated him. He did not want her just +then. He could hardly tell why, except that, somehow, she ran counter to +his thoughts altogether that morning. She seemed, even in her excellent +brown costume that fitted her fine figure so well, out of place, and out +of place for the first time. + +They were not openly engaged, these two, but there was an understanding +between them, and an understanding that her family was slowly +recognising. Mr. Lessing, at first, would never have accepted an +engagement, for he had other ideas for his daughter of the big house in +Park Lane. The rich city merchant, church-warden at St. John's, important +in his party, and a person of distinction when at his club, would have +been seriously annoyed that his daughter should consider a marriage with +a curate whose gifts had not yet made him an income. But he recognised +that the young man might go far. "Young Graham?" he would say, "Yes, a +clever young fellow, with quite remarkable gifts, sir. Bishop thinks a +lot of him, I believe. Preaches extraordinarily well. The Rector said he +would ask him to St. John's one morning...." + +Peter Graham's parish ran down to the river, and included slums in which +some of the ladies of St. John's (whose congregation had seen to it that +in their immediate neighbourhood there were no such things) were +interested. So the two had met. She had found him admirable and likeable; +he found her highly respectable and seemingly unapproachable. From which +cold elements much more may come than one might suppose. + +At any rate, now, Mrs. Lessing said nothing when Hilda went to post a +letter in London on Sunday morning before breakfast. She would have +mildly remonstrated if the girl had gone to meet the young man. The which +was England once, and may, despite the Kaiser, be England yet once more. + +"I was nearly going," she declared. "You're a bit late." + +"I know," he replied; "I couldn't help it. The early service took longer +than usual. But I'm glad to see you before breakfast. Tell me, what does +your father think of it all?" + +The girl gave a little shrug of the shoulders, "Oh, he says war is +impossible. The credit system makes it impossible. But if he really +thinks so, I don't see why he should say it so often and so violently. +Oh, Peter, what do you think?" + +The young man unconsciously quickened his pace. "I think it is certain," +he said. "We must come in. I should say, more likely, the credit system +makes it impossible for us to keep out. I mean, half Europe can't go to +war and we sit still. Not in these days. And if it comes--Good Lord, +Hilda, do you know what it means? I can't see the end, only it looks to +me like being a fearful smash.... Oh, we shall pull through, but nobody +seems to see that our ordinary life will come down like a pack of cards. +And what will the poor do? And can't you see the masses of poor souls +that will be thrown into the vortex like, like...." He broke off. "I +can't find words," he said, gesticulating nervously. "It's colossal." + +"Peter, you're going to preach about it: I can see you are. But do take +care what you say. I should hate father to be upset. He's so--oh, I don't +know!--_British_, I think. He hates to be thrown out, you know, and he +won't think all that possible." + +She glanced up (the least little bit that she had to) anxiously. Graham +smiled. "I know Mr. Lessing," he said. "But, Hilda, he's _got_ to be +moved. Why, he may be in khaki yet!" + +"Oh, Peter, don't be silly. Why, father's fifty, and not exactly in +training," she laughed. Then, seriously: "But for goodness' sake don't +say such things--for my sake, anyway." + +Peter regarded her gravely, and held open the gate. "I'll remember," he +said, "but more unlikely things may happen than that." + +They went up the path together, and Hilda slipped a key into the door. As +it opened, a thought seemed to strike her for the first time. "What will +_you_ do?" she demanded suddenly. + +Mrs. Lessing was just going into the dining-room, and Peter had no +need to reply. "Good-morning, Mr. Graham," she said, coming forward +graciously. "I wondered if Hilda would meet you: she wanted to post +a letter. Come in. You must be hungry after your walk." + +A manservant held the door open, and they all went in. That magic sun +shone on the silver of the breakfast-table, and lit up the otherwise +heavy room. Mrs. Lessing swung the cover of a silver dish and the eggs +slipped in to boil. She touched a button on the table and sat down, just +as Mr. Lessing came rather ponderously forward with a folded newspaper in +his hand. + +"Morning, Graham," he said. "Morning, Hilda. Been out, eh? Well, well, +lovely morning out; makes one feel ten years younger. But what do you +think of all this, Graham?" waving the paper as he spoke. + +Peter just caught the portentous headline-- + +"GERMANY DECLARES WAR ON RUSSIA," + +as he pulled up to the table, but he did not need to see it. There was +really no news: only that. "It is certain, I think, sir," he said. + +"Oh, certain, certain," said Lessing, seating himself. "The telegrams say +they are over the frontier of Luxembourg and massing against France. Grey +can't stop 'em now, but the world won't stand it--can't stand it. There +can't be a long war. Probably it's all a big bluff again; they know in +Berlin that business can't stand a war, or at any rate a long war. And we +needn't come in. In the City, yesterday, they said the Government could +do more by standing out. We're not pledged. Anderson told me Asquith said +so distinctly. And, thank God, the Fleet's ready! It's madness, madness, +and we must keep our heads. That's what I say, anyway." + +Graham cracked an egg mechanically. His sermon was coming back to him. +He saw a congregation of Lessings, and more clearly than ever the other +things. "What about Belgium?" he queried. "Surely our honour is engaged +there?" + +Mr. Lessing pulled up his napkin, visibly perturbed. "Yes, but what can +we do?" he demanded. "What is the good of flinging a handful of troops +overseas, even if we can? It's incredible--English troops in Flanders in +this century. In my opinion--in my opinion, I say--we should do better to +hold ourselves in readiness. Germany would never really dare antagonise +us. They know what it involves. Why, there's hundreds of millions of +pounds at stake. Grey has only to be firm, and things must come right. +Must--absolutely must." + +"Annie said, this morning, that she heard everyone in the +streets last night say we must fight, father," put in Hilda. + +"Pooh!" exclaimed the city personage, touched now on the raw. "What do +the fools know about it? I suppose the _Daily Mail_ will scream, but, +thank God, this country has not quite gone to the dogs yet. The people, +indeed! The mass of the country is solid for sense and business, and +trusts the Government. Of course, the Tory press will make the whole +question a party lever if it can, but it can't. What! Are we going to be +pushed into war by a mob and a few journalists? Why, Labour even will be +dead against it. Come, Graham, you ought to know something about that. +More in your line than mine--don't you think so?" + +"You really ought not to let the maids talk so," said Mrs. Lessing +gently. + +Peter glanced at her with a curiously hopeless feeling, and looked slowly +round the room until his eyes rested on Mr. Lessing's portrait over the +mantelshelf, presented by the congregation of St. John's on some occasion +two years before. From the portrait he turned to the gentleman, but it +was not necessary for him to speak. Mr. Lessing was saying something to +the man--probably ordering the car. He glanced across at Hilda, who had +made some reply to her mother and was toying with a spoon. He thought he +had never seen her look more handsome and.... He could not find the word: +thought of "solid," and then smiled at the thought. It did not fit in +with the sunlight on her hair. + +"Well, well," said Mr. Lessing; "we ought to make a move. It won't do for +either of us to be late, Mr. Preacher." + +The congregation of St. John's assembled on a Sunday morning as befitted +its importance and dignity. Families arrived, or arrived by two or three +representatives, and proceeded with due solemnity to their private pews. +No one, of course, exchanged greetings on the way up the church, but +every lady became aware, not only of the other ladies present, but of +what each wore. A sidesman, with an air of portentous gravity, as one +who, in opening doors, performed an office more on behalf of the Deity +than the worshippers, was usually at hand to usher the party in. Once +there, there was some stir of orderly bustle: kneelers were distributed +according to requirements, books sorted out after the solemn unlocking of +the little box that contained them, sticks and hats safely stowed away. +These duties performed, paterfamilias cast one penetrating glance round +the church, and leaned gracefully forward with a kind of circular motion. +Having suitably addressed Almighty God (it is to be supposed), he would +lean back, adjust his trousers, possibly place an elbow on the pew-door, +and contemplate with a fixed and determined gaze the distant altar. + +Peter, of course, wound in to solemn music with the procession of choir +boys and men, and, accorded the honour of a beadle with a silver mace, +since he was to preach, was finally installed in a suitably cushioned +seat within the altar-rails. He knelt to pray, but it was an effort to +formulate anything. He was intensely conscious that morning that a +meaning hitherto unfelt and unguessed lay behind his world, and even +behind all this pomp and ceremony that he knew so well. Rising, of +course, when the senior curate began to intone the opening sentence in +a manner which one felt was worthy even of St. John's, he allowed himself +to study his surroundings as never before. + +The church had, indeed, an air of great beauty in the morning sunlight. +The Renaissance galleries and woodwork, mellowed by time, were dusted +by that soft warm glow, and the somewhat sparse congregation, in its +magnificently isolated groups, was humanised by it too. The stone of the +chancel, flecked with colour, had a quiet dignity, and even the altar, +ecclesiastically ludicrous, had a grace of its own. There was to be a +celebration after Matins. The historic gold plate was therefore arranged +on the retable with something of the effect of show pieces at Mappin and +Webb's. Peter noticed three flagons, and between them two patens of great +size. A smaller pair for use stood on the credence-table. The gold +chalice and paten, veiled, stood on the altar-table itself, and above +them, behind, rose the cross and two vases of hot-house lilies. +Suggesting one of the great shields of beaten gold that King Solomon had +made for the Temple of Jerusalem, an alms-dish stood on edge, and leant +against the retable to the right of the veiled chalice. Peter found +himself marvelling at its size, but was recalled to his position when +it became necessary to kneel for the Confession. + +The service followed its accustomed course, and throughout the whole of +it Peter was conscious of his chaotic sermon. He glanced at his notes +occasionally, and then put them resolutely away, well aware that they +would be all but useless to him. Either he would, at the last, be able to +formulate the thoughts that raced through his head, or else he could do +no more than occupy the pulpit for the conventional twenty minutes with a +conventional sermon. At times he half thought he would follow this easier +course, but then the great letters of the newspaper poster seemed to +frame themselves before him, and he knew he could not. And so, at last, +there was the bowing beadle with the silver mace, and he must set out on +the little dignified procession to the great Jacobean pulpit with its +velvet cushion at the top. + +Hilda's mind was a curious study during that sermon. At first, as her +lover's rather close-cropped, dark-haired head appeared in sight, she had +studied him with an odd mixture of pride and apprehension. She held her +hymn-book, but she did not need it, and she watched surreptitiously while +he opened the Bible, arranged some papers, and, in accordance with +custom, knelt to pray. She began to think half-thoughts of the days that +might be, when perhaps she would be the wife of the Rector of some St. +John's, and later, possibly, of a Bishop. Peter had it in him to go far, +she knew. She half glanced round with a self-conscious feeling that +people might be guessing at her thoughts, and then back, wondering +suddenly if she really knew the man, or only the minister. And then there +came the rustle of shutting books and of people composing themselves to +listen, the few coughs, the vague suggestion of hassocks and cushions +being made comfortable. And then, in a moment, almost with the giving out +of the text, the sudden stillness and that tense sensation which told +that the young orator had gripped his congregation. + +Thereafter she hardly heard him, as it were, and she certainly lost the +feeling of ownership that had been hers before. As he leaned over the +pulpit, and the words rang out almost harshly from their intensity, she +began to see, as the rest of the congregation began to see, the images +that the preacher conjured up before her. A sense of coming disaster +riveted her--the feeling that she was already watching the end of +an age. + +"Jesus had compassion on the multitude"--that had been the short and +simple text. Simple words, the preacher had said, but how when one +realised Who had had compassion, and on what? Almighty God Himself, with +His incarnate Mind set on the working out of immense and agelong plans, +had, as it were, paused for a moment to have compassion on hungry women +and crying babies and folk whose petty confused affairs could have seemed +of no consequence to anyone in the drama of the world. And then, with a +few terse sentences, the preacher swung from that instance to the world +drama of to-day. Did they realise, he asked, that peaceful bright Sunday +morning, that millions of simple men were at that moment being hurled at +each other to maim and kill? At the bidding of powers that even they +could hardly visualise, at the behest of world politics that not one in +a thousand would understand and scarcely any justify, houses were being +broken up, women were weeping, and children playing in the sun before +cottage doors were even now being left fatherless. It was incredible, +colossal, unimaginable, but as one tried to picture it, Hell had opened +her mouth and Death gone forth to slay. It was terrible enough that +battlefields of stupendous size should soon be littered with the dying +and the dead, but the aftermath of such a war as this would be still more +terrible. No one could say how near it would come to them all. No one +could tell what revolution in morals and social order such a war as this +might not bring. That day God Himself looked down on the multitude as +sheep having no shepherd, abandoned to be butchered by the wolves, and +His heart beat with a divine compassion for the infinite sorrows of the +world. + +There was little more to it. An exhortation to go home to fear and pray +and set the house in order against the Day of Wrath, and that was all. +"My brethren," said the young man--and the intensity of his thought lent +a certain unusual solemnity to the conventional title--"no one can tell +how the events of this week may affect us. Our feet may even now be going +down into the Valley of the Shadow of temptation, of conflict, of death, +and even now there may be preparing for us a chalice such as we shall +fear to drink. Let us pray that in that hour the compassion of Jesus may +be real to us, and we ourselves find a sure place in that sorrowful +Heart." + +And he was gone from the pulpit without another word. It would have been +almost ridiculous if one had noted that the surprised beadle had had no +"And now to God the Father ..." in which to reach the pulpit, and had +been forced to meet his victim hurrying halfway up the chancel; but +perhaps no one but that dignitary, whom the fall of thrones would not +shake, had noticed it. The congregation paid the preacher the great +compliment of sitting on in absolute silence for a minute or two. For a +moment it still stared reality in the face. And then Mr. Lessing shifted +in his pew and coughed, and the Rector rose, pompously as usual, to +announce the hymn, and Hilda became conscious of unaccustomed tears in +her eyes. + +The senior curate solemnly uncovered and removed the chalice. Taking +bread and wine, he deposited the sacred vessels at the north end of the +altar, returned to the centre, unfolded the corporal, received the alms, +and as solemnly set the great gold dish on the corporal itself, after the +unmeaning custom of the church. And then came the long prayer and the +solemn procession to the vestry, while a dozen or two stayed with the +senior curate for the Communion. + +Graham found himself in the little inner vestry, with its green-cloth +table and massive inkstand and registers, and began to unvest +mechanically. He got his coat out of the beautiful carved wardrobe, and +was folding up his hood and surplice, when the Rector laid a patronising +hand on his shoulder. "A good sermon, Graham," he said--"a good sermon, +if a little emotional. It was a pity you forgot the doxology. But it is +a great occasion, I fear a greater occasion than we know, and you rose to +it very well. Last night I had half a mind to 'phone you not to come, and +to preach myself, but I am glad now I did not. I am sure we are very +grateful. Eh, Sir Robert?" + +Sir Robert Doyle, the other warden, was making neat piles of sovereigns +on the green cloth, while Mr. Lessing counted the silver as to the manner +born. He was a pillar of the church, too, was Sir Robert, but a soldier +and a straight speaker. He turned genially to the young man. + +"From the shoulder, Rector," he said. "Perhaps it will make a few of us +sit up a little. Coming down to church I met Arnold of the War Office, +and he said war was certain. Of course it is. Germany has been playing up +for it for years, and we fools have been blind and mad. But it'll come +now. Thank God, I can still do a bit, and maybe we shall meet out there +yet--eh, Mr. Graham?" + +Somehow or another that aspect of the question had not struck Peter +forcibly till now. He had been so occupied with visualising the march +of world events that he had hardly thought of himself as one of the +multitude. But now the question struck home. What would he do? He was +at a loss for the moment. + +The Rector saved him, however. "Well, well, of course, Sir Robert, apart +from the chaplains, the place of the clergy will be almost certainly at +home. Hospital visiting, and so on, will take a lot of time. I believe +the Chaplain-General's Department is fully staffed, but doubtless, if +there is any demand, the clergy will respond. It is, of course, against +Canon Law for them to fight, though doubtless our young friend would like +to do his share in that if he could. You were in the O.T.C. at Oxford, +weren't you, Graham?" + +"Yes," said Graham shortly. + +"The French priests are mobilising with the nation," said Sir Robert. + +"Ah, yes, naturally," replied the Rector; "that is one result of the +recent anti-clerical legislation. Thank God, this country has been spared +that, and in any case we shall never have conscription. Probably the Army +will have to be enlarged--half a million will be required at least, I +should think. That will mean more chaplains, but I should suppose the +Bishops will select--oh, yes, surely their lordships will select. It +would be a pity for you to go, Graham; it's rough work with the Tommies, +and your gifts are wanted at home. The Vicar of St. Thomas's speaks very +highly of your gifts as an organiser, and doubtless some sphere will be +opened up for you. Well, well, these are stirring times. Good-morning, +Mr. Graham." + +He held out his hand to the young man. Mr. Lessing, carefully smoothing +his silk hat, looked up. "Come in to luncheon with us, will you, Graham?" +he said. + +Peter assented, and shook hands all round. Sir Robert and he moved out +together, and the baronet caught his eye in the porch. "This'll jog him +up a bit, I'm thinking," he said to himself. "There's stuff in that chap, +but he's got to feel his legs." + +Outside the summer sun was now powerful, and the streets were dusty and +more busy. The crowd had thinned at the church door, but Hilda and Mrs. +Lessing were waiting for the car. + +"Don't let's drive," said Hilda as they came up; "I'd much sooner walk +home to-day." + +Her father smiled paternally. "Bit cramped after church, eh?" he said. +"Well, what do you say, dear?" he asked his wife. + +"I think I shall drive," Mrs. Lessing replied; "but if Mr. Graham is +coming to luncheon, perhaps he will walk round with Hilda. Will you, Mr. +Graham?" + +"With pleasure," said Peter. "I agree with Miss Lessing, and the walk +will be jolly. We'll go through the park. It's less than half an hour, +isn't it?" + +It was arranged at that, and the elders drove off. Peter raised his hat +to Sir Robert, who turned up the street, and together he and Hilda +crossed over the wide thoroughfare and started down for the park. + +There was silence for a little, and it was Peter who broke it. + +"Just before breakfast," he said, "you asked me what I should do, and I +had no chance to reply. Well, they were talking of it in the vestry just +now, and I've made up my mind. I shall write to-night to the Bishop and +ask for a chaplaincy." + +They walked on a hundred yards or so in silence again. Then Hilda broke +it. "Peter," she began, and stopped. He glanced at her quickly, and saw +in a minute that the one word had spoken truly to him. + +"Oh, Hilda," he said, "do you really care all that? You can't possibly! +Oh, if we were not here, and I could tell you all I feel! But, dear, I +love you; I know now that I have loved you for months, and it is just +because I love you that I must go." + +"Peter," began Hilda again, and again stopped. Then she took a grip of +herself, and spoke out bravely. "Oh, Peter," she said, "you've guessed +right. I never meant you to--at least, not yet, but it is terrible to +think of you going out there. I suppose I ought to be glad and proud, and +in a way I am, but you don't seem the right person for it. It's wasting +you. And I don't know what I shall do without you. You've become the +centre of my life. I count on seeing you, and on working with you. If +you go, you, you may ... Oh, I can't say it! I ought not to say all this. +But..." She broke off abruptly. + +Graham glanced round him. They were in the park now, and no one in +particular was about in the quiet of the sidewalk. He put his hand out, +and drew her gently to a seat. Then, leaning forward and poking at the +ground with his stick, he began. "Hilda, darling," he said, "it's awful +to have to speak to you just now and just like this, but I must. First, +about ourselves. I love you with all my heart, only that's so little to +say; I love you so much that you fill my life. And I have planned my life +with you. I hardly knew it, but I had. I thought I should just go on and +get a living and marry you--perhaps, if you would (I can hardly speak of +it now I know you would)--and--and--oh, I don't know--make a name in the +Church, I suppose. Well, and I hope we shall one day, but now this has +come along. I really feel all I said this morning, awfully. I shall go +out--I must. The men must be helped; one can't sit still and imagine them +dying, wounded, tempted, and without a priest. It's a supreme chance. We +shall be fighting for honour and truth, and the Church must be there to +bear her witness and speak her message. There will be no end to do. And +it is a chance of a lifetime to get into touch with the men, and +understand them. You do see that, don't you? And, besides--forgive me, +but I must put it so--if _He_ had compassion on the multitude, ought we +not to have too? _He_ showed it by death; ought we to fear even that +too?" + +The girl stole out a hand, and his gripped it hard. Then she remembered +the conventions and pulled it away, and sat a little more upright. She +was extraordinarily conscious of herself, and she felt as if she had two +selves that day. One was Hilda Lessing, a girl she knew quite well, a +well-trained person who understood life, and the business of society and +of getting married, quite correctly; and the other was somebody she did +not know at all, that could not reason, and who felt naked and ashamed. +It was inexplicable, but it was so. That second self was listening to +heroics and even talking them, and surely heroics were a little out of +date. + +She looked across a wide green space, and saw, through the distant trees, +the procession of the church parade. She felt as if she ought to be +there, and half unconsciously glanced at her dress. A couple of terriers +ran scurrying across the grass, and a seat-ticket man came round the +corner. Behind them a taxi hooted, and some sparrows broke out into a +noisy chatter in a bush. And here was Peter talking of death, and the +Cross--and out of church, too. + +She gave a little shudder, and glanced at a wrist-watch. "Peter," she +said, "we must go. Dear, for my sake, do think it over. Wait a little, +and see what happens. I quite understand your point of view, but you must +think of others--even your Vicar, my parents, and of me. And Peter, shall +we say anything about our--our love? What do you think?" + +Peter Graham looked at her steadily, and as she spoke he, too, felt the +contrast between his thoughts and ordinary life. The London curate was +himself again. He got up. "Well, darling," he said, "just as you like, +but perhaps not--at any rate until I know what I have to do. I'll think +that over. Only, we shan't change, shall we, whatever happens? You _do_ +love me, don't you? And I do love you." + +Hilda met his gaze frankly and blushed a little. She held out a hand to +be helped up. "My dear boy," she said. + +After luncheon Peter smoked a cigar in the study with Mr. Lessing before +departure. Every detail of that hour impressed itself upon him as had the +events of the day, for his mind was strung up to see the inner meaning of +things clearly. + +They began with the usual ritual of the selection of chairs and cigars, +and Mr. Lessing had a glass of port with his coffee, because, as he +explained, his nerves were all on edge. Comfortably stretched out in an +armchair, blowing smoke thoughtfully towards the empty grate, his fat +face and body did not seem capable of nerves, still less to be suffering +from them, but then one can never tell from appearances. At any rate he +chose his words with care, and Graham, opposite but sitting rather +upright, could not but sense his meaning. + +"Well, well, well," he said, "to think we should come to this! A European +war in this century, and we in it! Not that I'll believe it till I hear +it officially. While there's life there's hope, eh, Graham?" + +Peter nodded, for he did not know what to say. + +"The question is," went on the other, "that if we are carried into war, +what is the best policy? Some fools will lose their heads, of course, and +chuck everything to run into it. But I've no use for fools, Graham." + +"No, sir," said Peter. + +"No use for fools," repeated Mr. Lessing. "I shall carry on with business +as usual, and I hope other people will carry on with theirs. There are +plenty of men who can fight, and who ought to, without disorganising +everything. Hilda would see that too--she's such a sensible girl. Look at +that Boer affair, and all that foolery about the C.I.V. Why, I met a +South African at the club the other day who said we'd have done ten times +as well without 'em. You must have trained men these days, and, after +all, it's the men behind the armies that win the war. Men like you and I, +Graham, each doing his ordinary job without excitement. That's the type +that's made old England. You ought to preach about it, Graham. Come to +think, it fits in with what you said this morning, and a good sermon too, +young man. Every man's got to put his house in order and carry on. You +meant that, didn't you?" + +"Something like that," said Peter; "but as far as the clergy are +concerned, I still think the Bishops ought to pick their men." + +"Yes, yes, of course," said Mr. Lessing, stretching himself a bit. "But I +don't think the clergy could be much use over there. As the Canon said, +there will be plenty to do at home. In any case it would be no use +rushing the Bishops. Let them see what's needed, and then let them choose +their men, eh? A man like London's sure to be in the know. Good thing +he's your Bishop, Graham: you can leave it to him easily?" + +"I should think so, sir," said Peter forlornly. + +"Oh, well, glad to hear you say it, I'm sure, Graham, and so will Mrs. +Lessing be, and Hilda. We're old-fashioned folk, you know.... Well, well, +and I suppose I oughtn't to keep you. I'll come with you to the door, my +boy." + +He walked ahead of the young man into the hall, and handed him his hat +himself. On the steps they shook hands to the fire of small sentences. +"Drop in some evening, won't you? Don't know if I really congratulated +you on the sermon; you spoke extraordinarily well, Graham. You've a great +gift. After all, this war will give you a bit of a chance, eh? We must +hear you again in St. John's.... Good-afternoon." + +"Good-afternoon, Mr. Lessing," said Graham, "and thank you for all you've +said." + +In the street he walked slowly, and he thought of all Mr. Lessing had not +said as well as all he had. After all, he had spoken sound sense, and +there was Hilda. He couldn't lose Hilda, and if the old man turned out +obstinate--well, it would be all but impossible to get her. Probably +things were not as bad as he had imagined. Very likely it would all be +over by Christmas. If so, it was not much use throwing everything up. +Perhaps he could word the letter to the Bishop a little differently. He +turned over phrases all the way home, and got them fairly pat. But it was +a busy evening, and he did not write that night. + +Monday always began as a full day, what with staff meeting and so on, and +its being Bank Holiday did not make much difference to them. But in the +afternoon he was free to read carefully the Sunday papers, and was +appalled with the swiftness of the approach of the universal cataclysm. +After Evensong and supper, then, he got out paper and pen and wrote, +though it took much longer than he thought it would. In the end he begged +the Bishop to remember him if it was really necessary to find more +chaplains, and expressed his readiness to serve the Church and the +country when he was wanted. When it was written, he sat long over the +closed envelope and smoked a couple of pipes. He wondered if men were +killing each other, even now, just over the water. He pictured a battle +scene, drawing from imagination and what he remembered of field-days at +Aldershot. He shuddered a little as he conceived himself crawling through +heather to reach a man in the front line who had been hit, while the +enemies' guns on the crest opposite were firing as he had seen them fire +in play. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be hit. + +Then he got up and stretched himself. He looked round curiously at the +bookcase, the Oxford group or two, the hockey cap that hung on the edge +of one. He turned to the mantelpiece and glanced over the photos. +Probably Bob Scarlett would be out at once; he was in some Irish +regiment or other. Old Howson was in India; he wouldn't hear or see much. +Jimmy--what would Jimmy do, now? He picked up the photograph and looked +at it--the clean-shaven, thoughtful, good-looking face of the best fellow +in the world, who had got his fellowship almost at once after his +brilliant degree, and was just now, he reflected, on holiday in the +South of France. Jimmy, the idealist, what would Jimmy do? He reached +for a hat and made for the door. He would post his letter that night +under the stars. + +Once outside, he walked on farther down Westminster way. At the Bridge +he leaned for a while and watched the sullen, tireless river, and then +turned to walk up past the House. It was a clear, still night, and the +street was fairly empty. Big Ben boomed eleven, and as he crossed in +front of the gates to reach St. Margaret's he wondered what was doing in +there. He had the vaguest notion where people like the Prime Minister and +Sir Edward Grey would be that night. He thought possibly with the King, +or in Downing Street. And then he heard his name being called, and turned +to see Sir Robert Doyle coming towards him. + +The other's face arrested him. "Is there any news, Sir Robert?" he asked. + +Sir Robert glanced up in his turn at the great shining dial above them. +"Our ultimatum has gone or is just going to Germany, and in twenty-four +hours we shall be at war," he said tersely. "I'm just going home; I've +been promised a job." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +At 7.10 on a foggy February morning Victoria Station looked a place of +mystery within which a mighty work was going forward. Electric lights +still shone in the gloom, and whereas innumerable units of life ran this +way and that like ants disturbed, an equal number stood about apparently +indifferent and unperturbed. Tommies who had found a place against a wall +or seat deposited rifle and pack close by, lit a pipe, and let the world +go by, content that when the officers' leave train had gone someone, or +some Providence, would round them up as well. But, for the rest, porters, +male and female, rushed up with baggage; trunks were pushed through the +crowd with the usual objurgations; subalterns, mostly loud and merry, +greeted each other or the officials, or, more subdued, moved purposefully +through the crowd with their women-folk, intent on finding a quieter +place farther up the platforms. + +There was no mistaking the leave platform or the time of the train, for a +great notice drew one's attention to it. Once there, the Army took a man +in hand. Peter was entirely new to the process, but he speedily +discovered that his fear of not knowing what to do or where to go, which +had induced him (among other reasons) to say good-bye at home and come +alone to the station, was unfounded. Red-caps passed him on respectfully +but purposefully to officials, who looked at this paper and that, and +finally sent him up to an officer who sat at a little table with papers +before him to write down the name, rank, unit, and destination of each +individual destined that very morning to leave for the Army in France. + +Peter at last, then, was free to walk up the platform, and seek the rest +of his luggage that had come on from the hotel with the porter. He was +free, that is, if one disregarded the kit hung about his person, or +which, despite King's Regulations, he carried in his hands. But free or +not, he could not find his luggage. At 7.30 it struck him that at least +he had better find his seat. He therefore entered a corridor and began +pilgrimage. It was seemingly hopeless. The seats were filled with coats +or sticks or papers; every type of officer was engaged in bestowing +himself and his goods; and the general atmosphere struck him as being +precisely that which one experiences as a fresher when one first enters +hall for dinner at the 'Varsity. The comparison was very close. +First-year men--that is to say, junior officers returning from their +first leave--were the most encumbered, self-possessed, and asserting; +those of the second year, so to say, usually got a corner-seat and looked +out of window; while here and there a senior officer, or a subaltern with +a senior's face, selected a place, arranged his few possessions, and got +out a paper, not in the Oxford manner, as if he owned the place, but in +the Cambridge, as if he didn't care a damn who did. + +Peter made a horrible hash of it. He tried to find a seat with all his +goods in his hands, not realising that they might have been deposited +anywhere in the train, and found when it had started, since, owing to a +particular dispensation of the high gods, everything that passed the +barrier for France got there. He made a dive for one place and sat in it, +never noting a thin stick in the corner, and he cleared out with enormous +apologies when a perfectly groomed Major with an exceedingly pleasant +manner mentioned that it was his seat, and carefully put the stick +elsewhere as soon as Peter had gone. Finally, at the end of a carriage, +he descried a small door half open, and inside what looked like an empty +seat. He pulled it open, and discovered a small, select compartment with +a centre table and three men about it, all making themselves very +comfortable. + +"I beg your pardon," said Peter, "but is there a place vacant for one?" + +The three eyed him stonily, and he knew instinctively that he was again a +fresher calling on the second year. One, a Captain, raised his head to +look at him better. He was a man of light hair and blue, alert eyes, +wearing a cap that, while not looking dissipated, somehow conveyed the +impression that its owner knew all about things--a cap, too, that carried +the Springbok device. The lean face, with its humorous mouth, regarded +Peter and took him all in: his vast expanse of collar, the wide black +edging to his shoulder-straps, his brand-new badges, his black buttons +and stars. Then he lied remorselessly: + +"Sorry, padre; we're full up." + +Peter backed out and forgot to close the door, for at that moment a +shrill whistle was excruciatingly blown. He found himself in the very cab +of the Pullman with the glass door before him, through which could be +seen a sudden bustle. Subalterns hastened forward from the more or less +secluded spots that they had found, with a vision of skirts and hats +behind them; an inspector passed aggressively along; and--thanks to those +high gods--Peter observed the hurrying hotel porter at that moment. In +sixty seconds the door had been jerked open; a gladstone, a suit-case, +and a kit-bag shot at him; largesse had changed hands; the door had shut +again; the train had groaned and started; and Peter was off to France. + +It was with mixed feelings that he groped for his luggage. He was +conscious of wanting a seat and a breakfast; he was also conscious of +wanting to look at the station he was leaving, which he dimly felt he +might never see again; and he was, above all, conscious that he looked a +fool and would like not to. In such a turmoil he lugged at the gladstone +and got it into a corner, and then turned to the window in the cleared +space with a determination. In turning he caught the Captain's face stuck +round the little door. It was withdrawn at once, but came out again, and +he heard for the second time the unfamiliar title: + +"Say, padre; come in here. There's room after all." + +Peter felt cheered. He staggered to the door, and found the others busy +making room. A subaltern of the A.S.C. gripped his small attache case and +swung it up on to the rack. The South African pulled a British warm off +the vacant seat and reached out for the suit-case. And the third man, with +the rank of a Major and the badge of a bursting bomb, struck a match and +paused as he lit a cigarette to jerk out: + +"Damned full train! We ought to have missed it, Donovan." + +"It's a good stunt that, if too many blighters don't try it on," observed +the subaltern, reaching for Peter's warm. "But they did my last leave, +and I got the devil of a choking off from the brass-hat in charge. It's +the Staff train, and they only take Prime Ministers, journalists, and +trade-union officials in addition. How's that, padre?" + +"Thanks," said Peter, subsiding. "It's jolly good of you to take me in. I +thought I'd got to stand from here to Folkestone." + +H.P. Jenks, Second-Lieutenant A.S.C., regarded him seriously. "It +couldn't be done, padre," he said, "not at this hour of the morning. I +left Ealing about midnight more or less, got sandwiched in the Metro with +a Brigadier-General and his blooming wife and daughters, and had to wait +God knows how long for the R.T.O. If I couldn't get a seat and a break +after that, I'd be a casualty, sure thing." + +"It's your own fault for going home last night," observed the Major +judiciously. (Peter noticed that he was little older than Jenks on +inspection.) "Gad, Donovan, you should have been with us at the Adelphi! +It was some do, I can tell you. And afterwards..." + +"Shut up, Major!" cut in Jenks. "Remember the padre." + +"Oh, he's broad-minded I know, aren't you, padre? By the way, did you +ever meet old Drennan who was up near Poperinghe with the Canadians? He +was a sport, I can tell you. Mind you, a real good chap at his job, but a +white man. Pluck! By jove! I don't think that chap had nerves. I saw him +one day when they were dropping heavy stuff on the station, and he was +getting some casualties out of a Red Cross train. A shell burst just down +the embankment, and his two orderlies ducked for it under the carriage, +but old Drennan never turned a hair. 'Better have a fag,' he said to the +Scottie he was helping. 'It's no use letting Fritz put one off one's +smoke.'" + +Peter said he had not met him, but could not think of anything else to +say at the moment, except that he was just going out for the first time. + +"You don't say?" said Donovan dryly. + +"Wish I was!" ejaculated Jenks. + +"Good chap," replied the Major. "Pity more of your sort don't come over. +When I was up at Loos, September last year, we didn't see a padre in +three months. Then they put on a little chap--forget his name--who used +to bike over when we were in rest billets. But he wasn't much use." + +"I was in hospital seven weeks and never saw one," said Jenks. + +"Good heavens!" said Graham. "But I've been trying to get out for +all these years, and I was always told that every billet was taken +and that there were hundreds on the waiting list. Last December the +Chaplain-General himself showed me a list of over two hundred names." + +"Don't know where they get to, then, do you, Bevan?" asked Jenks. + +"No," said the Major, "unless they keep 'em at the base." + +"Plenty down at Rouen, anyway," said Donovan. "A sporting little blighter +I met at the Brasserie Opera told me he hadn't anything to do, anyway." + +"I shall be a padre in the next war," said Jenks, stretching out his +legs. "A parade on Sunday, and you're finished for the week. No orderly +dog, no night work, and plenty of time for your meals. Padres can always +get leave too, and they always come and go by Paris." + +Donovan laughed, and glanced sideways at Peter. "Stow it, Jenks," he +said. "Where you for, padre?" he asked. + +"I've got to report at Rouen," said Peter. "I was wondering if you were +there." + +"No such luck now," returned the other. "But it's a jolly place. Jenko's +there. Get him to take you out to Duclair. You can get roast duck at a +pub there that melts in your mouth. And what's that little hotel near the +statue of Joan of Arc, Jenks, where they still have decent wine?" + +Peter was not to learn yet awhile, for at that moment the little door +opened and a waiter looked in. "Breakfast, gentlemen?" he asked. + +"Oh, no," said Jenks. "Waiter, I always bring some rations with me; I'll +just take a cup of coffee." + +The man grinned. "Right-o, sir," he said. "Porridge, gentlemen?" + +He disappeared, leaving the door open and, Donovan opening a newspaper, +Graham stared out of window to wait. From the far corners came scraps of +conversation, from which he gathered that Jenks and the Major were going +over the doings of the night before. He caught a word or two, and stared +the harder out of window. + +Outside the English country was rushing by. Little villas, with +back-gardens running down to the rail, would give way for a mile or two +to fields, and then start afresh. The fog was thin there, and England +looked extraordinarily homely and pleasant. It was the known; he was +conscious of rushing at fifty miles an hour into the unknown. He turned +over the scrappy conversation of the last few minutes, and found it +savoured of the unknown. It was curious the difference uniform made. He +felt that these men were treating him more like one of themselves than +men in a railway-carriage had ever treated him before; that somehow even +his badges made him welcome; and yet that, nevertheless, it was not he, +Peter Graham, that they welcomed, or at least not his type. He wondered +if padres in France were different from priests in England. He turned +over the unknown Drennan in his mind. Was it because he was a good priest +that the men liked him, or because they had discovered the man in the +parson? + +The waiter brought in the breakfast--porridge, fish, toast, and the +rest--and they fell to, a running fire of comments going on all the time. +Donovan had had Japanese marmalade somewhere, and thought it better than +this. The Major wouldn't touch the beastly margarine, but Jenks thought +it quite as good as butter if taken with marmalade, and put it on nearly +as thickly as his toast. Peter expanded in the air of camaraderie, and +when he leaned back with a cigarette, tunic unbuttoned and cap tossed up +on the rack, he felt as if he had been in the Army for years. He +reflected how curious that was. The last two or three years or so of Boy +Scouts and hospitals and extra prayer-meetings, attended by the people +who attended everything else, seemed to have faded away. There was hardly +a gap between that first war evening which he remembered so clearly and +this. It was a common experience enough, and probably due to the fact +that, whereas everything else had made little impression, he had lived +for this moment and been extraordinarily impressed by that Sunday. But he +realised, also, that it was due as much to his present companions. They +had, seemingly, accepted him as he had never been accepted before. They +asked practically no questions. So far as he could see, he made no +difference to them. He felt as if he were at last part of a great +brotherhood, in which, chiefly, one worried about nothing more important +than Japanese marmalade and margarine. + +"We're almost there, boys," said Bevan, peering out of window. + +"Curse!" ejaculated Jenks. "I hate getting my traps together in a train, +and I loathe the mob on the boat." + +"I don't see why you should," said Donovan. "I'm blest if I bother about +anything. The R.T.O. and the red-caps do everything, and you needn't even +worry about getting a Pullman ticket this way over. Hope it's not rough, +though." He let a window down and leaned out. "Looks all right," he +added. + +Peter got up with the rest and began to hang things about him. His +staringly new Sam Browne irritated him, but he forgot it as the train +swung round the curve to the landing-stage. + +"Get a porter and a truck, Donovan," said the Major, who was farthest +from the door. + +They got out nonchalantly, and Peter lit a cigarette, while the others +threw remarks at the man as to luggage. Then they all trooped off +together in a crowd that consisted of every variety of rank and regiment +and section of the British Empire, plus some Waacs and nurses. + +_The Pride of Folkestone_ lay alongside, and when they got there she +seemed already full. The four of them got jammed at the gangway and +shoved on board, handing in and receiving papers from the official at the +head as they passed him. Donovan was in front, and as he stepped on deck +he swung his kit-bag back to Peter, crying: + +"Lay hold of that, padre, and edge across the deck. Get up ahead of the +funnel that side. I'll get chairs. Jenko, you rotter, get belts, and drop +eyeing the girl!" + +"Jolly nice bit of fluff," said Jenks meditatively, staring fixedly +across the deck. + +"Where?" queried the Major, fumbling for his eyeglass. + +"Get on there, please, gentlemen," called a ship's official. + +"Damn it! mind my leg!" + +"Cheerio, old son, here we are again!" + +"I say, Tommy, did you get to the Alhambra last night, after all? What? +Well, I couldn't see you, anyhow." + +To which accompaniment, Peter pushed his way across the deck. "Sorry, +padre," said a V.A.D. who blocked the way, bending herself back to let +him pass, and smiling. "Catch hold," called out Donovan, swinging a +couple of chairs at him. "No, sir, it's not my chair"--to a Colonel +who was grabbing at one already set out against the rail. + +The Colonel collected it and disappeared, Jenks appearing a moment later, +red-faced, through the crush. "You blamed fool," he whispered, "it's that +girl's. I saw her put one here and edged up on it, only some fool got in +my way. Still (hopefully), perhaps she'll come back." + +Between them they got four chairs into a line and sat down, all, that is, +save Jenks, who stood up, in a bland and genial way, as if to survey the +crowd impartially. How impartially soon appeared. "Damn!" he exploded. +"She's met some other females, weird and woolly things, and she's sitting +down there. No, by Jove! she's looking this way." + +He made a half-start forward, and the Major kicked his shins. "Blast!" he +exploded; "why did you do that, you fool?" + +"Don't be an infant, Jenko, sit down. You can't start a flirtation across +the blooming deck. Here, padre, can't you keep him in order?" + +Peter half raised himself from his chair at this, and glanced the way the +other was looking. Through the crush he saw, clearly enough for a minute, +a girl of medium height in a nurse's uniform, sideways on to him. The +next second she half-turned, obviously smiling some remark to her +neighbour, and he caught sight of clear brown eyes and a little fringe +of dark hair on the forehead of an almost childish face. The eyes met +his. And then a sailor blundered across his field of vision. + +"Topping, isn't she?" demanded Jenks, who had apparently been pulled down +into his chair in the interval. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Graham, and added deliberately: "Rather +ordinary, I thought." + +Jenks stared at him. "Good Lord, padre," he said, "where are your eyes?" + +Peter heard a little chuckle behind, and glanced round to see Donovan +staring at him with amusement written all across his face. "You'll do, +padre," he said, taking a pipe from his pocket and beginning to fill it. +Peter smiled and leant back. Probably for the first time in five years he +forgot for a moment what sort of a collar it was around his neck. + +Sitting there, he began to enjoy himself. The sea glittered in the +sun and the Lees stretched out opposite him across the shining gulf. +Sea-birds dipped and screamed. On his left, Major Bevan was talking to +a flying man, and Peter glanced up with him to see an aeroplane that +came humming high up above the trees on the cliff and flew out to sea. + +"Damned fine type!" said the boy, whose tunic, for all his youth, sported +wings. "Fritz can't touch it yet. Of course, he'll copy it soon enough, +or go one better, but just at present I think it's the best out. Wish +we'd got some in our circus. We've nothing but ..." and he trailed off +into technicalities. + +Peter found himself studying Donovan, who lay back beyond Jenks turning +the pages of an illustrated magazine and smoking. The eyes interested +him; they looked extraordinarily clear, but as if their owner kept hidden +behind them a vast number of secrets as old as the universe. The face was +lined--good-looking, he thought, but the face of a man who was no novice +in the school of life. Peter felt he liked the Captain instinctively. He +carried breeding stamped on him, far more than, say, the Major with the +eyeglass. Peter wondered if they would meet again. + +The siren sounded, and a bustle began as people put on their life-belts. +"All life-belts on, please," said a young officer continually, who, with +a brassard on his arm, was going up and down among the chairs. "Who's +that?" asked Peter, struggling with his belt. + +"Some poor bloke who has been roped in for crossin' duty," said Jenks. +"Mind my chair, padre; Bevan and I are going below for a wet. Coming, +skipper?" + +"Not yet," said Donovan; "the bar's too full at first for me. Padre and +I'll come later." + +The others stepped off across the crowded deck, and Donovan pitched his +magazine into Bevan's chair to retain it. + +"You're from South Africa?" queried Peter. + +"Yes," replied the other. "I was in German West, and came over after on +my own. Joined up with the brigade here." + +"What part of Africa?" asked Peter. + +"Basutoland, padre. Not a bad place in a way--decent climate, topping +scenery, but rather a stodgy crowd in the camps. One or two decent +people, but the majority mid-Victorian, without a blessed notion except +the price of mealies, who quarrel about nothing half the time, and talk +tuppenny-ha'penny scandal the rest. Good Lord! I wish we had some of the +perishers out here. But they know which side of the bread the butter is. +Bad time for trade, they say, and every other trader has bought a car +since the war. Of course, there's something to be said for the other +side, but what gets my goat is their pettiness. I'm for British East +Africa after the war. There's a chap written a novel about Basutoland +called 'The Land of To-morrow,' but I'd call it 'The Land of the Day +before Yesterday.' I suppose some of them came over with an assortment of +ideas one time, but they've struck no new ones since. I don't advise you +to settle in a South African dorp if you can help it, padre." + +"Don't suppose I shall," said Peter. "I've just got engaged, and my +girl's people wouldn't let her out of England." + +"Engaged, are you? Thank your stars you aren't married. It's safer not to +be out here." + +"Why?" + +Donovan looked at him curiously. "Oh, you'll find out fast enough, +padre," he said. "Wonder what you'll make of it. Rum place just now, +France, I can tell you. There's the sweepings of half the world over +there, and everything's turned upside down. Fellows are out for a spree, +of course, and you can't be hard on a chap down from the line if he goes +on the bust a bit. It's human nature, and you must allow for it; don't +you think so?" + +"Human nature can be controlled," said Peter primly. + +"Can it?" retorted the other. "Even the cloth doesn't find it too easy, +apparently." + +"What do you mean?" demanded Peter, and then added: "Don't mind telling +me; I really want to know." + +Donovan knocked out his pipe, and evaded. "You've got to be broad-minded, +padre," he said. + +"Well, I am," said Peter. "But ..." + +"Come and have a drink then," interrupted the other. "Jenko and the Major +are coming back." + +"Damned poor whisky!" said the latter, catching the rail as the boat +heaved a bit, "begging your pardon, padre. Better try brandy. If the war +lasts much longer there'll be no whisky worth drinking this side. I'm off +it till we get to the club at Boulogne." + +Peter and Donovan went off together. It was a new experience for Peter, +but he wouldn't have owned it. They groped their way down the saloon +stairs, and through a crowd to the little bar. "What's yours?" demanded +Donovan. + +"Oh, I'll take the Major's advice," said Peter. "Brandy-and-soda for me." + +"Soda finished, sir," said the bar steward. + +"All right: two brandies-and-water, steward," said Donovan, and swung a +revolving seat near round for Graham. As he took it, Peter noticed the +man opposite. His badge was a Maltese Cross, but he wore a flannel collar +and tie. Their eyes met, but the other stared a bit stonily. For the +second time, Peter wished he hadn't a clerical collar. The next he was +taking the glass from the South African. "Cheerio," said Donovan. + +"Here's to you," said Peter, and leaned back with an assumption of ease. + +He had a strange sense of unreality. No fool and no Puritan, he had +naturally, however, been little in such an atmosphere since ordination. +He would have had a drink in Park Lane with the utmost ease, and he would +have argued, over it, that the clergy were not nearly so out of touch +with men as the papers said. But down here, in the steamer's saloon, +surrounded by officers, in an atmosphere of indifference to him and his +office, he felt differently. He was aware, dimly, that for the past five +years situations in which he had been had been dominated by him, and that +he, as a clergyman, had been continually the centre of concern. Talk, +conduct, and company had been rearranged when he came in, and it had +happened so often that he had ceased to be aware of it. But now he was +a mere unit, of no particular importance whatever. No one dreamed of +modifying himself particularly because a clergyman was present. Peter +clung to the belief that it was not altogether so, but he was +sufficiently conscious of it. And he was conscious of liking it, of +wanting to sink back in it as a man sinks back in an easy-chair. He +felt he ought not to do so, and he made a kind of mental effort to +pull himself together. + +Up on the deck the world was very fair. The French coast was now clearly +visible, and even the houses of the town, huddled together as it seemed, +but dominated by a church on the hill. Behind them, a sister ship +containing Tommies ploughed steadily along, serene and graceful in the +sunlight, and above an airship of silvery aluminum, bearing the +tricoloured circle of the Allies, kept pace with the swift ship without +an effort. Four destroyers were visible, their low, dark shapes ploughing +regularly along at stated intervals, and someone said a fifth was out of +sight behind. People were already beginning to take off their life-belts, +and the sailors were clearing a place for the gangway. Peter found that +Donovan had known what he was about, for his party would be close to the +gangway without moving. He began to wonder uneasily what would be done +on landing, and to hope that Donovan would be going his way. No one had +said a word about it. He looked round for Jenks' nurse, but couldn't see +her. + +It was jolly entering the port. The French houses and fishing-boats +looked foreign, although one could hardly say why. On the quay was a big +notice: "All officers to report at once to the M.L.O." Farther on was a +board bearing the letters "R.T.O." ... But Peter hardly liked to ask. + +In fact, everything went like clockwork. He presently found himself +in a queue, behind Donovan, of officers who were passing a small +window like a ticket office. Arriving, he handed in papers, and was +given them back with a brief "All right." Beyond, Donovan had secured +a broken-down-looking one-horse cab. "You'll be coming to the club, +padre?" he asked. "Chuck in your stuff. This chap'll take it down and +Bevan with it. Let's walk. It isn't far." + +Jenks elected to go with his friend the Major, and Donovan and Peter +set off over the cobbles. They joined up with another small group, and +for the first time Peter had to give his name as he was introduced. He +forgot the others, as soon as he heard them, and they forgot his. A big +Dublin Fusilier officer with a tiny moustache, that seemed ludicrous +in his great face, exchanged a few sentences with him. They left the +quay and crossed a wide space where a bridge debouched towards the +railway-station. Donovan, who was walking ahead, passed on, but the +Fusilier suggested to Peter that they might as well see the R.T.O. at +once about trains. Entering the station gates, the now familiar initials +appearing on a row of offices before them to the left, Peter's companion +demanded the train to Albert. + +"Two-thirty a.m., change at Amiens, sir," said a clerk in uniform within, +and the Fusilier passed on. + +"What time is the Rouen train?" asked Peter in his turn, and was told +9.30 p.m. + +"You're in luck, padre," said the other. "It's bally rotten getting in at +two-thirty, and probably the beastly thing won't go till five. Still, it +might be worse. You can get on board at midnight, and with luck get to +sleep. If I were you, I'd be down here early for yours--crowded always, +it is. Of course, you'll dine at the club?" + +Peter supposed he would. + +The club entrance was full up with officers, and more and more kept +pouring in. Donovan was just leaving the counter on the right with some +tickets in his hand as they pushed in. "See you later," he called out. +"I've got to sleep here, and I want to leave my traps." + +Peter wondered where, but was too much occupied in keeping well behind +the Fusilier to think much. At a kind of counter a girl in a W.A.A.C. +uniform was serving out tickets of one sort and another, and presently +the two of them were before her. For a few francs one got tickets for +lunch, dinner, bed, a bath, and whatever else one wanted, but Peter +had no French money. The Fusilier bought him the first two, however, +and together they forced their way out into the great lounge. "Half +an hour before lunch," said his new companion, and then, catching sight +of someone: "Hullo, Jack, you back? Never saw you on the boat. Did +you ..." His voice trailed off as he crossed the room. + +Peter looked around a little disconsolately. Then he made his way to a +huge lounge-chair and threw himself into it. + +All about him was a subdued chatter. A big fire burned in the stove, +and round it was a wide semicircle of chairs. Against the wall were +more, and a small table or two stood about. Nearly every chair had its +occupant--all sorts and conditions of officers, mostly in undress, and he +noticed some fast asleep, with muddied boots. There was a look on their +faces, even in sleep, and Peter guessed that some at least were down +from the line on their way to a brief leave. More and more came in +continuously. Stewards with drinks passed quickly in and out about them. +The Fusilier and his friend were just ordering something. Peter opened +his case and took out a cigarette, tapping it carefully before lighting +it. He began to feel at home and lazy and comfortable, as if he had been +there before. + +An orderly entered with envelopes in his hand. "Lieutenant Frazer?" he +called, and looked round inquiringly. There was no reply, and he turned +to the next. "Captain Saunders?" Still no reply. "Lieutenant Morcombe?" +Still no reply. "Lieutenant Morcombe," he called again. Nobody took any +interest, and he turned on his heel, pushed the swing-door open, and +departed. + +Then Donovan came in, closely followed by Bevan. Peter got up and made +towards them. "Hullo!" said Bevan. "Have an appetiser, padre. Lunch will +be on in twenty minutes. What's yours, skipper?" + +The three of them moved on to Peter's chair, and Bevan dragged up +another. Peter subsided, and Donovan sat on the edge. Peter pulled +out his cigarette-case again, and offered it. Bevan, after one or two +ineffectual attempts, got an orderly at last. + +"Well, here's fun," he said. + +"Cheerio," said Peter. He remembered Donovan had said that in the saloon. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Jenks being attached to the A.S.C. engaged in feeding daily more than +100,000 men in the Rouen area, Peter and he travelled together. By the +latter's advice they reached the railway-station soon after 8.30, but +even so the train seemed full. There were no lights in the siding, and +none whatever on the train, so that it was only by matches that one could +tell if a compartment was full or empty, except in the case of those from +which candle-light and much noise proclaimed the former indisputably. At +last, however, somewhere up near the engine, they found a second-class +carriage, apparently unoccupied, with a big ticket marked "Reserved" upon +it. Jenks struck a match and regarded this critically. "Well, padre," he +said, "as it doesn't say for whom it is reserved, I guess it may as +well be reserved for us. So here goes." He swung up and tugged at the +door, which for some time refused to give. Then it opened suddenly, and +Second-Lieutenant Jenks, A.S.C., subsided gracefully and luridly on the +ground outside. Peter struck another match and peered in. It was then +observed that the compartment was not empty, but that a dark-haired, +lanky youth, stretched completely along one seat, was regarding them +solemnly. + +"This carriage is reserved," he said. + +"Yes," said Jenks cheerfully, "for us, sir. May I ask what you are doing +in it?" + +The awakened one sighed. "It's worked before, and if you chaps come in +and shut the door quickly, perhaps it will work again. Three's not too +bad, but I've seen six in these perishing cars. Come in quickly, for the +Lord's sake!" + +Peter looked round him curiously. Two of the four windows were broken, +and the glory had departed from the upholstery. There was no light, and +it would appear that a heavier body than that designed for it had +travelled upon the rack. Jenks was swearing away to himself and trying +to light a candle-end. Peter laughed. + +"Got any cards?" asked the original owner. + +"Yes," said Jenks. "Got any grub?" + +"Bath-olivers and chocolate and half a water-bottle of whisky," replied +the original owner. "And we shall need them." + +"Good enough," said Jenks. "And the padre here has plenty of sandwiches, +for he ordered a double lot." + +"Do you play auction, padre?" queried what turned out, in the +candle-light, to be a Canadian. + +Peter assented; he was moderately good, he knew. + +This fairly roused the Canadian. He swung his legs off the seat, and +groped for the door. "Hang on to this dug-out, you men," he said, "and +I'll get a fourth. I kidded some fellows of ours with that notice just +now, but I know them, and I can get a decent chap to come in." + +He was gone a few minutes only; then voices sounded outside. "Been +looking for you, old dear," said their friend. "Only two sportsmen here +and a nice little show all to ourselves. Tumble in, and we'll get +cheerful. Not that seat, old dear. But wait a jiffy; let's sort things +out first." + + * * * * * + +They snorted out of the dreary tunnel into Rouen in the first daylight of +the next morning. Peter looked eagerly at the great winding river and the +glory of the cathedral as it towered up above the mists that hung over +the houses. There was a fresh taste of spring in the air, and the smoke +curled clear and blue from the slow-moving barges on the water. The bare +trees on the island showed every twig and thin branch, as if they had +been pencilled against the leaden-coloured flood beneath. A tug puffed +fussily upstream, red and yellow markings on its grimy black. + +Jenks was asleep in the corner, but he woke as they clattered across the +bridge. "Heigh-ho!" he sighed, stretching. "Back to the old graft again." + +Yet once more Peter began to collect his belongings. It seemed ages since +he had got into the train at Victoria, and he felt particularly grubby +and unshaven. + +"What's the next move?" he asked. + +Jenks eyed him. "Going to take a taxi?" he queried. + +"Where to?" said Peter. + +"Well, if you ask me, padre," he replied, "I don't see what's against a +decent clean-up and breakfast at the club. It doesn't much matter when I +report, and the club's handy for your show. I know the A.C.G.'s office, +because it's in the same house as the Base Cashier, and the club's just +at the bottom of the street. But it's the deuce of a way from the +station. If we can get a taxi, I vote we take it." + +"Right-o," agreed Peter. "You lead on." + +They tumbled out on the platform, and produced the necessary papers at +the exit labelled "British Officers Only." A red-capped military +policeman wrote down particulars on a paper, and in a few minutes they +were out among the crowd of peasantry in the booking-hall. Jenks pushed +through, and had secured a cab by the time Peter arrived. "There isn't a +taxi to be got, padre," he said, "but this'll do." + +They rolled off down an avenue of wintry trees, passed a wooden building +which Peter was informed was the English military church, and out on to +the stone-paved quay. To Peter the drive was an intense delight. A French +blue-coated regiment swung past them. "Going up the line," said Jenks. A +crowd of black troops marched by in the opposite direction. "Good Lord!" +said Jenks, "so the S.A. native labour has come." The river was full of +craft, but his mentor explained that the true docks stretched mile on +mile downstream. By a wide bridge lay a camouflaged steamer. "Hospital +ship," said Jenks. Up a narrow street could be seen the buttresses of the +cathedral; and if Peter craned his head to glance up, his companion was +more occupied in the great cafe at the corner a little farther on. But +it was, of course, deserted at that early hour. A flower-stall at the +corner was gay with flowers, and two French peasant women were arranging +the blooms. And then the fiacre swung into the Rue Joanne d'Arc, and +opposite a gloomy-looking entrance pulled up with a jerk. "Here we are," +said Jenks. "It's up an infernal flight of steps." + +The officers' club in Rouen was not monstrously attractive, but they got +a good wash in a little room that looked out over a tangle of picturesque +roofs, and finally some excellent coffee and bacon and eggs. + +Jenks lit a cigarette and handed one to Peter. "Better leave your traps," +he said. "I'll go up with you; I've nothing to do." + +Outside the street was filling with the morning traffic, and the two +walked up the slight hill to the accompaniment of a running fire of +comments and explanations from Jenks, "That's Cox's--useful place for +the first half of a month, but not much use to me, anyway, for the +second.... You ought to go to I that shop and buy picture post-cards, +padre; there's a topping girl who sells 'em.... Rue de la Grosse +Horloge--you can see the clock hanging over the road. The street runs +up to the cathedral: rather jolly sometimes, but nothing doing +now.... What's that? I don't know. Yes, I do, Palais de Justice or +something of that sort. Pretty old, I believe.... In those gardens is the +picture gallery; not been in myself, but I believe they've got some good +stuff.... That's your show, over there. Don't be long; I'll hang about." + +Peter crossed the street, and, following directions ascended some wooden +stairs. A door round the corner at the top was inscribed "A.C.G. (C. of +E.)," and he went up to it. There he cogitated: ought one to knock, or, +being in uniform, walk straight in? He could not think of any reason +why one should not knock being in uniform, so he knocked. + +"Come in," said a voice. + +He opened the door and entered. At a desk before him sat a rather elderly +man, clean-shaven, who eyed him keenly. On his left, with his back to +him, was a man in uniform pattering away busily on a typewriter, and, for +the rest, the room contained a few chairs, a coloured print of the Light +of the World over the fireplace, and a torn map. Peter again hesitated. +He wondered what was the rank of the officer in the chair, and if he +ought to salute. While he hesitated, the other said: "Good-morning. What +can I do for you?" + +Peter, horribly nervous, made a half-effort at saluting, and stepped +forward. "My name's Graham, sir," he said. "I've just come over, and was +told in the C.G.'s office in London to report to Colonel Chichester, +A.C.G., at Rouen." + +The other put him at his ease at once. He rose and held a hand out over +the littered desk. "How do you do, Mr. Graham?" he said. "We were +expecting you. I am the A.C.G. here, and we've plenty for you to do. +Take a seat, won't you? I believe I once heard you preach at my brother's +place down in Suffolk. You were at St. Thomas's, weren't you, down by the +river?" + +Peter warmed to the welcome. It was strangely familiar, after the past +twenty-four hours, to hear himself called "Mr." and, despite the uniforms +and the surroundings, he felt he might be in the presence of a vicar in +England. Some of his old confidence began to return. He replied freely +to the questions. + +Presently the other glanced at his watch. "Well," he said, "I've got to +go over to H.Q., and you had better be getting to your quarters. Where +did I place Captain Graham, Martin?" + +The orderly at the desk leaned sideways and glanced at a paper pinned on +the desk. "No. 5 Rest Camp, sir," he said. + +"Ah, yes, I remember now. You can get a tram at the bottom of the street +that will take you nearly all the way. It's a pretty place, on the edge +of the country. You'll find about one thousand men in camp, and the +O.C.'s name is--what is it, Martin?" + +"Captain Harold, sir." + +"Harold, that's it. A decent chap. The men are constantly coming and +going, but there's a good deal to do." + +"Is there a chapel in the camp?" asked Peter. + +"Oh, no, I don't think so. You'll use the canteen. There's a quiet room +there you can borrow for celebrations. There's a P.O.W. camp next door +one way and a South African Native Labour Corps lot the other. But they +have their own chaplains. We'll let you down easy at first, but you might +see if you can fix up a service or so for the men in the forest. There's +a Labour Company out there cutting wood. Maybe you'll be able to get a +lift out in a car, but get your O.C. to indent for a bicycle if there +isn't one. Drop in and see me some day and tell me how you are getting +on, I'll find you some more work later on." + +Peter got up. The other held out his hand, which Peter took, and then, +remembering O.T.C. days at Oxford, firmly and, unblushingly saluted. The +Colonel made a little motion. "Good-bye," he said, and Peter found +himself outside the door. + +"No. 5 Rest. Camp;" said Jenks a moment later: "you're in luck, padre. +It's a topping camp, and the skipper is an awfully good sort. Beast of a +long way out, though. You'll have to have a taxi now." + +"The A.C.G. said a tram would do," said Peter. + +"Then he talked through his blooming hat," replied the other. "He's +probably never been there in his little life. It's two miles beyond the +tram terminus if it's a yard. My place is just across the river, and +there's a ferry that pretty well drops you there. Tell you what I'll do. +I'll see you down and then skip over." + +"What about your stuff, though?" queried Peter. + +"Oh? bless you, I can get a lorry to collect that. That's one use in +being A.S.C., at any rate." + +"It's jolly decent of you," said Peter. + +"Not a bit, old dear," returned the other. "You're the right sort, padre, +and I'm at a loose end just now. Besides, I'd like to see old Harold. +He's one of the best. Come on." + +They found a taxi this time, near the Gare du Vert, and ran quickly out, +first over cobbles, then down a wide avenue with a macadamised surface +which paralleled the river, downstream. + +"Main road to Havre," volunteered Jenks. "I've been through once or twice +with our stuff. It's a jolly pretty run, and you can lunch in Candebec +with a bit of luck, which is one of the beauty-spots of the Seine, you +know." + +The road gave on open country in a few miles, though there were camps +to be seen between it and the river, with wharves and buildings at +intervals, and ahead a biggish waterside village. Just short of that +they pulled up. A notice-board remarked "No. 5 Rest Camp," and Peter +saw he had arrived. + +The sun was well up by this time, and his spirits with it. The country +smiled in the clear light. Behind the camp fields ran up to a thick wood +through which wound a road, and the river was just opposite them. A +sentry came to attention as they passed in, sloped arms, and saluted. +Peter stared at him. "You ought to take the salute, padre," said Jenks; +"you're senior to me, you know." + +They passed down a regular street of huts, most of which had little +patches of garden before them in which the green of some early spring +flowers was already showing, and stopped before the orderly-room. Jenks +said he would look in and see if "the skipper" were inside, and in a +second or two came out with a red-faced, cheerful-looking man, whom +he introduced as Captain Harold. With them was a tall young Scots officer +in a kilt, whom Peter learned was Lieutenant Mackay of their mess. + +"Glad to see you, padre," said Harold. "Our last man wasn't up to much, +and Jenks says you're a sport. I've finished in there, so come on to the +mess and let's have a spot for luck. Come on, Scottie. Eleven o'clock's +all right for you, isn't it?" + +"Shan't say no," said the gentleman addressed, and they passed behind the +orderly-room and in at an open door. + +Peter glanced curiously round. The place was very cheerful--a fire +burning and gay pictures on the wall. "Rather neat, isn't it, padre?" +queried Harold. "By the way, you've got to dub up a picture. Everyone in +the mess gives one. There's a blank space over there that'll do nicely +for a Kirschner, if you're sport enough for that, Jenko'll show you where +to get a topper. What's yours, old son?" + +"Same as usual, skipper," said Jenks, throwing himself into a chair. + +Harold walked across to a little shuttered window and tapped. A man's +face appeared in the opening, "Four whiskies, Hunter--that's all right, +padre?" + +"Yes," said Peter, and walked to the fire, while the talk became general. + +"First time over?" queried Mackay. + +"Well, how's town?" asked Harold. "Good shows on? I ought to be due next +month, but I think I'll! wait a bit. Want to get over in the spring and +see a bit of the country too. What do they think of the war over there, +Jenko?" + +"It's going to be over by summer. There's a big push coming off this +spring, and Fritz can't stand much more. He's starving, and has no +reserves worth talking of. The East does not matter, though the doings +at Salonika have depressed them no end. This show's going to be won on +the West, and that quickly. Got it, old bean?" + +"Good old Blighty!" ejaculated Harold. "But they don't really believe all +that, do they, padre?" + +"They do," said Peter. "And, to tell you the truth, I wondered if +I'd be over in time myself. Surely the Yanks must come in and make +a difference." + +"This time next year, perhaps, though I doubt it. What do you think, +Scottie?" + +"Oh, ask another! I'm sick of it. Say, skipper, what about that run out +into the forest you talked of?" + +"Good enough. Would you care to go, padre? There's a wood-cuttin' crowd +out there, and I want to see 'em about firewood. There's a car possible +to-day, and we could all pack in." + +"Count me out," said Jenks. "I'll have to toddle over and report. Sorry, +all the same." + +"I'd love it," said Peter. "Besides, the A.C.G. said I was to look up +those people." + +"Oh, well done. It isn't a joy-ride at all, then. Have another, padre, +and let's get off. No? Well, I will. How's yours, Scottie?" + +Ten minutes later the three of them got into a big car and glided +smoothly off, first along the river, and then up a steep road into the +forest. Peter, fresh from London, lay back and enjoyed it immensely. He +had no idea Normandy boasted such woods, and the world looked very good +to him. It was all about as different from what he had imagined as it +could possibly have been. He just set himself to appreciate it. + +The forest was largely fir and pine, and the sunlight glanced down the +straight trunks and patterned on the carpet beneath. Hollies gleamed +green against the brown background, and in an open space of bare beech +trees the littered ground was already pricked with the new green of the +wild hyacinth. Now and again the rounded hills gave glimpses of the far +Normandy plain across the serpentine river, then would as suddenly close +in on them again until the car seemed to dart between the advancing +battalions of the forest as though to escape capture. At length, in +one such place, they leaped forward up a short rise, then rushed +swiftly downhill, swung round a corner, and came out on what had +become all but a bare tableland, set high so that one could see +distant valleys--Boscherville, Duclair--and yet bare, for the timber +had been all but entirely cut down. + +Five hundred yards along this road brought them to a small encampment. +There were some lines of Nysson huts, a canteen with an inverted triangle +for sign, some tents, great stacks of timber and of smaller wood, a few +lorries drawn up and silent, and, beyond, two or three buildings of wood +set down by themselves, with a garden in front, and a notice "Officers' +Quarters." Here, then, Captain Harold stopped the car, and they got out. +There were some jovial introductions, and presently the whole party set +off across the cleared space to where, in the distance, one could see +the edge of the forest. + +Peter did not want to talk, and dropped a little behind. Harold and the +O.C. of the forestry were on in front, and Mackay, with a junior local +officer, were skirmishing about on the right, taking pot-shots with small +chunks of wood at the stumps of trees and behaving rather like two +school-boys. + +The air was all heavy with resinous scent, and the carpet beneath soft +with moss and leaves and fragrant slips of pine. Here and there, on a +definite plan, a small tree had been spared, and when he joined the men +ahead, Peter learned how careful were the French in all this apparently +wholesale felling. In the forest, as they saw as they reached it, the +lines were numbered and lettered and in some distant office every +woodland group was known with its place and age. There are few foresters +like the French, and it was cheering to think that this great levelling +would, in a score of years, do more good than harm. + +Slowly biting into the untouched regiments of trees were the men, helped +in their work by a small power engine. The great trunks were lopped and +roughly squared here, and then dragged by motor traction to a slide, +which they now went to view. It was a fascinating sight. The forest ended +abruptly on a high hill, and below, at their feet, wound the river. Far +down, working on a wharf that had been constructed of piles driven into +the mud, was a Belgian detachment with German prisoners, and near the +wharf rough sheds housed the cutting plant. Where they stood was the +head of a big slide, with back-up sides, and the forest giants, brought +to the top from the place where they were felled, were levered over, to +swish down in a cloud of dust to the waiting men beneath. + +"Well, skipper, what about the firewood?" asked Harold as they stood +gazing. + +"How much do you want?" asked the O.C. Forestry. + +"Oh, well, what can you let me have? You've got stacks of odd stuff +about; surely you can spare a bit." + +"It's clean agin regulations, but could you send for it?" + +"Rather! There's an A.S.C. camp below us, and the men there promised me +a lorry if I'd share the spoils with them. Will that do?" + +"All right. When will you send up?" + +"What's to-day? Wednesday? How about Sunday? I could put some boys on to +load up who'd like the jaunt. How would Sunday do?" + +"Capital. My chaps work on all day, of course, and I don't want to give +them extra, so send some of yours." + +Peter listened, and now cut in. + +"Excuse me, sir," he said, "but I was told I ought to try and get a +service of some sort out here. Could I come out on the lorry and hold +one?" + +"Delighted, padre, of course. I'll see what I can do for you. About +eleven? Probably you won't get many men as there are usually inspection +parades and some extra fatigues on Sunday, but I'll put it in orders. We +haven't had a padre for a long time." + +"Eleven would suit me," said Peter, "if Captain Harold thinks the lorry +can get up here by that time. Will it, sir?" + +"Oh, I should think so, and, anyway, an hour or so won't make much +difference. If I can, I'll come with you myself. But, I say, we ought +to be getting back now. It will be infernally late for luncheon." + +"Come and have a drink before you start, anyway," said the O.C.; and he +led the way back to the camp and into an enclosure made of bushes and +logs in the rear of the mess, where rustic seats and a table had been +constructed under the shade of a giant oak. "It's rattling here in +summer," he said, "and we have most of our meals out of doors. Sit +down, won't you? Orderly!" + +"By Jove! you people are comfortable out here," said Harold. "Wish I had +a job of this sort." + +"Oh, I don't know, skipper; it would feed you up after a while, I think. +It's bally lonely in the evening, and we can't always get a car to town. +It's a damned nuisance getting out again, too." Then, as the orderly +brought glasses and a bottle: "Have a spot. It's Haig and Haig, Mackay, +and the right, stuff." + +"Jolly good, sir," said that worthy critically. "People think because +I don't talk broad Scots I'm no Highlander, but when it comes to the +whisky I've got a Scottish thirst. Say when, sir." + +Peter had another because he was warm with the sense of good comradeship, +and was warmer still when he climbed into the car ten minutes later. Life +seemed so simple and easy; and he was struck with the cheeriness of his +new friends, and the ready welcome to himself and his duty. He waved to +the O.C. "See you Sunday, sir," he called, out, "'bout eleven. You won't +forget to put it in orders, will you? Cheerio." + +"Let's go round by the lower road, skipper," said Mackay. "We can look +in at that toppin' little pub--what's its name, Croix something?--and +besides, the surface is capital down there." + +"And see Marie, eh? But don't forget you've got a padre aboard." + +"Oh, he's all right, and if he's going to be out here, it's time he knew +Marie." + +Graham laughed. "Carry on," he said. "It's all one to me where we go, +skipper." + +He lay back more comfortably than ever, and the big car leaped forward +through the forest, ever descending towards the river level. Soon the +trees thinned, and they were skirting ploughed fields. Presently they ran +through a little village, where a German prisoner straightened himself +from his work in a garden and saluted. Then through a wood which suddenly +gave a vista of an avenue to a stately house, turreted in the French +style, a quarter of a mile away; then over a little stream; then round a +couple of corners, past a dreamy old church, and a long immemorial wall, +and so out into the straight road along the river. The sun gleamed on the +water, and there were ships in view, a British and a couple of Norwegian +tramps, ploughing slowly down to the sea. On the far bank the level of +the land was low, but on this side only some narrow apple-orchards and +here and there lush water-meadows separated them from the hills. + +The Croix de Guerre stood back from the road in a long garden just where +a forest bridle-path wound down through a tiny village to the main road. +Their chauffeur backed the car all but out of sight into this path after +they climbed out, and the three of them made for a sidedoor in a high +wall. Harold opened it and walked in. The pretty trim little garden had +a few flowers in bloom, so sheltered was it, and Mackay picked a red +rosebud as they walked up the path. + +Harold led the way without ceremony into a parlour that opened off a +verandah, and, finding it empty, opened a door beyond. "Marie! Marie!" +he called. + +"Ah, Monsieur le Capitaine, I come," came a girl's voice, and Marie +entered. Peter noticed how rapidly she took them all in, and how cold +were the eyes that nevertheless sparkled and greeted Harold and Mackay +with seeming gaiety. She was short and dark and not particularly +good-looking, but she had all the vivacity and charm of the French. + +"Oh, monsieur, where have you been for so long? I thought you had +forgotten La Croix de Guerre altogether. It's the two weeks--no, +_three_--since you come here. The gentlemen will have dejeuner? And +perhaps a little aperitif before?" + +"Bon jour, Marie," began the Captain in clumsy French, and then abandoned +the attempt. "I could not come, Marie, you know. C'est la guerre. Much +work each day." + +"Ah, non, monsieur cannot cheat me. He had found another cafe and another +girl.... Non, non, monsieur, it is not correct;" and the girl drew +herself up with a curiously changed air as Harold clumsily reached out +towards her, protesting. "And you have a cure here--how do you say, a +chapelain?" and Marie beamed on Peter. + +The two officers looked at him and laughed. "What can I bring you, +Monsieur le Capitaine le Cure?" demanded the girl. "Vermuth? Cognac?" + +Mackay slipped from the edge of the table on which he had been sitting +and advanced towards her, speaking fluent French, with a curious +suggestion of a Scotch accent that never appeared in his English. Peter +watched with a smile on his face and a curious medley of feelings, while +the Lieutenant explained, that they could not stop to lunch, that they +would take three mixed vermuth, and that he would come and help her get +them. They went out together, Marie protesting, and Harold, lighting a +cigarette and offering one to Peter, said with a laugh: "He's the boy, is +Mackay. Wish I could sling the lingo like him. It's a great country, +padre." + +In a minute or two the pair of them came back, Marie was wearing the rose +at the point of the little _decollete_ of her black dress, and was all +over smiles. She carried a tray with glasses and a bottle. Mackay carried +the other. With a great show, he helped her pour out, and chatted away in +French while they drank. + +Harold and Peter talked together, but the latter caught scraps of the +others' conversation. Mackay wanted to know, apparently, when she would +be next in town, and was urging a date on her. Peter caught "Rue Jeanne +d'Arc," but little more, and Harold was insistent on a move in a few +minutes. They skirmished at the door saying "Good-bye," but it was with +an increased feeling of the warmth and jollity of his new life that Peter +once more boarded the car. This time Mackay got in front and Harold +joined Graham behind. As they sped off, Peter said: + +"By Jove, skipper, you do have a good time out here!" + +Harold flicked off the ash of his cigarette. "So, so, padre," he said. +"But the devil's loose. It's all so easy; I've never met a girl yet who +was not out for a spree. Of course, we don't see anything of the real +French ladies, though, and this isn't the line. By God! when I think of +the boys up there, I feel a beast sometimes. But I can't help it; they +won't pass me to go up, and it's no use growling down here because of +it." + +"I suppose not," said Peter, and leaned back reflecting for the rest of +the way. He felt as if he had known these men all his days, and as if his +London life had been lived on another planet. + +After lunch he was given a cubicle, and spent an hour or two getting +unpacked. That done, just as he was about to sit down to a letter, there +came a knock at the door, and Mackay looked in. + +"You there, padre?" he asked. "There's a lorry going up to town that has +just brought a batch of men in: would you care to come? I've got to do +some shopping, and we could dine at the club and come back afterwards." + +Peter jumped up. "Topping," he said. "I want to get one or two things, +and I'd love it." + +"Come on, then," said the other. "I'll meet you at the gate in five +minutes." + +Peter got on his Sam Browne and went out, and after a bit Mackay joined +him. They jolted up to town, and went first to the Officers' Store at the +E.F.C. Mackay bought some cigarettes, and Peter some flannel collars and +a tie. Together the pair of them strolled round town, and put their heads +in at the cathedral at Peter's request. He had a vision of old grey stone +and coloured glass and wide soaring spaces, but his impatient companion +hauled him out. "Of course, you'll want to see round, padre," he said, +"but you can do it some other time and with somebody else. I've seen it +once, and that's enough for me. Let's get on to the club and book a +table; there's usually a fearful crowd." + +Peter was immensely impressed with the crowd of men, the easy greetings +of acquaintances, and the way in which one was ignored by the rest. He +was introduced to several people, who were all very cheerful, and in the +long dining-room they eventually sat down to table with two more officers +whom the Scotsman knew. Peter was rather taken with a tall man, slightly +bald, of the rank of Captain, who was attached to a Labour Corps. He had +travelled a great deal, and been badly knocked about in Gallipoli. In a +way, he was more serious than the rest, and he told Peter a good deal +about the sights of the town--the old houses and churches, and where was +the best glass, and so on. Mackay and the fourth made merry, and Mackay, +who called the W.A.A.C. waitress by her Christian name, was plainly +getting over-excited. Peter's friend was obviously a little scornful. +"You'll meet a lot of fools here, padre," he said, "old and young. The +other day I was having tea here when two old buffers came in--dug-outs, +shoved into some job or another--and they sat down at the table next +mine. I couldn't help hearing what they said. The older and fatter, a +Colonel, looked out of window, and remarked ponderously: + +"'By the way, wasn't Joan of Arc born about here?' + +"'No,' said the second; 'down in Alsace-Lorraine, I believe. She was +burnt here, and they threw her ashes into the Grand Pont.'" + +Peter laughed silently, and the other smiled at him. "Fact," he said. +"That's one type of ass, and the second is (dropping his voice) your +friend here and his like, if you don't mind my saying so. Look at him +with that girl now. Somebody'll spot it, and they'll keep an eye on him. +Next time he meets her on the sly he'll be caught out, and be up for it. +Damned silly fool, I think! The bally girl's only a waitress from Lyons." + +Peter glanced at Mackay. He was leaning back holding the menu, which she, +with covert glances at the cashier's desk, was trying to take away from +him. "Isobel," he said, "I say, come here--no, I really want to see +it--tell me, when do you get out next?" + +"We don't get no leave worth talking of, you know," she said. "Besides, +you don't mean it. You can't talk to me outside. Oh, shut up! I must go. +They'll see us," and she darted away. + +"Damned pretty girl, eh?" said Mackay contentedly. "Don't mind me, padre. +It's only a bit of a joke. Come on, let's clear out." + +The four went down the stairs together and stood in a little group at +the entrance-door. "Where you for now, Mac?" asked the second officer, +a subaltern of the West Hampshires. + +"Don't know, old sport. I'm with the padre. What you for, padre?" + +"I should think we had better be getting back," said Peter, glancing at +the watch on his wrist. "We've a long way to go." + +"Oh, hang it all, not yet! It's a topping evenin'. Let's stroll up the +street." + +Peter glanced at the Labour Corps Captain, who nodded, and they two +turned off together. "There's not much to do," he said. "One gets sick of +cinemas, and the music-hall is worse, except when one is really warmed up +for a razzle-dazzle. I don't wonder these chaps go after wine and women +more than they ought. After all, most of them are just loose from home. +You must make allowances, padre. It's human nature, you know." + +Peter nodded abstractedly. It was the second time he had heard that. +"It's all so jolly different from what I expected," he said meditatively. + +"I know," said the other. "Not much danger or poverty or suffering here, +seemingly. But you never can tell. Look at those girls: I bet you would +probably sum them up altogether wrongly if you tried." + +Peter glanced at a couple of French women who were passing. The pair were +looking at them, and in the light of a brilliantly lit cinema they showed +up clearly. The paint was laid on shamelessly; their costumes, made in +one piece, were edged with fur and very gay. Each carried a handbag and +one a tasselled stick. "Good-night, cherie," said one, as they passed. + +Peter gave a little shudder. "How ghastly!" he said. "How can anyone +speak to them? Are there many like that about?" He glanced back again: +"Why, good heavens," he cried, "one's Marie!" + +"Hullo, padre," said his friend, the ghost of a smile beginning about his +lips. "Where have you been? Marie! By Jove! I shall have to report you to +the A.C.G." + +Peter blushed furiously. "It was at an inn," he said, "this morning, as +we were coming back from the forest. But she seemed so much better then, +Mackay knew her; why, I heard him say...." + +He glanced back at the sudden recollection. The two girls were speaking +to the two others, twenty paces or so behind. "Oh," he exclaimed, "look +here!..." + +The tall Labour man slipped his arm in his and interrupted. "Come on, +padre," he said; "you can't do anything. Mackay's had a bit too much as +it is, and the other chap is looking for a night out. We'll stroll past +the cathedral, and I'll see you a bit of the way home." + +"But how damnable, how beastly!" exclaimed Peter. "It makes one +sick!..." He broke off, and the two walked on in silence. + +"Is there much of that?" Peter demanded suddenly. + +The other glanced at him. "You'll find out without my telling you," he +said; "but don't be too vehement till you've got your eyes open. There +are worse things." + +"There can't be," broke in Peter. "Women like that, and men who will go +with them, aren't fit to be called men and women. There's no excuse. It's +bestial, that's what it is." + +"You wouldn't speak to one?" queried the other. + +"Good heavens, no! Do you forget what I am?" + +"No, I don't, padre, but look here, I'm not a Christian, and I take a +common-sense view of these things, but I'm bound to say I think you're on +the wrong tack, too. Didn't Christ have compassion on people like that? +Didn't He eat and drink with publicans and sinners?" + +"Yes, to convert them. You can't name the two things in the same breath. +He had compassion on the multitude of hungry women and children and +misguided men, but He hated sin. You can't deny that." Peter recalled his +sermon; he was rather indignant, unreasonably, that the suggestion should +have been made. + +"So?" said the other laconically. "Well, you know more about it than +I do, I suppose. Come on; we go down here." + +They parted at the corner by the river again, and Peter set out for his +long walk home alone. It was a lovely evening of stars, cool, but not too +cold, and at first the streets were full of people. He kept to the curb +or walked in the road till he was out of the town, taking salutes +automatically, his thoughts far away. The little _cafes debits_ were +crowded, largely by Tommies. He was not accosted again, for he walked +fast, but he saw enough as he went. + +More than an hour later he swung into camp, and went to his room, lit a +candle, and shut the door. Tunic off, he sat on the edge of the camp-bed +and stared at the light. He seemed to have lived a year in a day, and he +felt unclean. He thought of Hilda, and then actually smiled, for Hilda +and this life seemed so incredibly far apart. He could not conceive of +her even knowing of its existence. Yet, he supposed, she knew, as he had +done, that such things were. He had even preached about them.... It +suddenly struck him that he had talked rot in the pulpit, talked of +things of which he knew nothing. Yet, of course, his attitude had been +right. + +He wondered if he should speak to Mackay, and, so wondering, fell forward +on his knees. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Hilda's religion was, like the religion of a great many Englishwomen of +her class, of a very curious sort. She never, of course, analysed it +herself, and conceivably she would object very strongly to the +description set down here, but in practical fact there is no doubt about +the analysis. To begin with, this conventional and charming young lady of +Park Lane had in common with Napoleon Bonaparte that Christianity meant +more to them both as the secret of social order than as the mystery of +the Incarnation. Hilda was convinced that a decent and orderly life +rested on certain agreements and conclusions in respect to marriage and +class and conduct, and that these agreements and conclusions were +admirably stated in the Book of Common Prayer, and most ably and +decorously advocated from the pulpit of St. John's. She would have said +that she believed the agreements and conclusions because of the Prayer +Book, but in fact she had primarily given in her allegiance to a social +system, and supported the Prayer Book because of its support of that. +Once a month she repeated the Nicene Creed, but only because, in the +nature of things, the Nicene Creed was given her once a month to repeat, +and she never really conceived that people might worry strenuously about +it, any more than she did. Being an intelligent girl, she knew, of +course, that people did, and occasionally preachers occupied the pulpit +of St. John's who were apparently quite anxious that she and the rest +of the congregation should understand that it meant this and not that, +or that and not this, according to the particular enthusiasm of the +clergyman of the moment. Sentence by sentence she more or less understood +what these gentlemen keenly urged upon her; as a whole she understood +nothing. She was far too much the child of her environment and age not +to perceive that Mr. Lloyd George's experiments in class legislation were +vastly more important. + +Peter, therefore, had always been a bit of an enigma to her. As a rule +he fitted in with the scheme of things perfectly well, for he was a +gentleman, he liked nice things, and he was splendidly keen on charity +organisation and the reform of abuses on right lines. But now and again +he said and did things which perturbed her. It was as if she had +gradually become complete mistress of a house, and then had suddenly +discovered a new room into which she peeped for a minute before it was +lost to her again and the door shut. It was no Bluebeard's chamber into +which she looked; it was much more that she had a suspicion that the room +contained a live mistress who might come out one day and dispute her own +title. She could tell how Peter would act nine times out of ten; she knew +by instinct, a great deal better than he did, the conceptions that ruled +his life; but now and again he would hesitate perplexedly as if at the +thought of something that she did not understand, or act suddenly in +response to an overwhelming flood of impulse whose spring was beyond her +control or even her surmise. Women mother all their men because men are +on the whole such big babies, but from a generation of babies is born +occasionally the master. Women get so used to the rule that they forget +the exception. When he comes, then, they are troubled. + +But this was not all Hilda's religion. For some mysterious reason this +product of a highly civilised community had the elemental in her. Men and +women both have got to eliminate all trace of sex before they can +altogether escape that. In other words, because in her lay latent the +power of birth, in which moment she would be cloistered alone in a dark +and silent room with infinity, she clung unreasonably and all but +unconsciously to certain superstitions which she shared with primitive +savages and fetish-worshippers. All of which seems a far cry from the War +Intercession Services at wealthy and fashionable St. John's, but it was +nothing more or less than this which was causing her to kneel on a high +hassock, elbows comfortably on the prayer-rail, and her face in her +hands, on a certain Friday evening in the week after Peter's arrival in +France, while the senior curate (after suitable pauses, during which her +mind was uncontrollably busy with an infinite number of things, ranging +from the doings of Peter in France to the increasing difficulty of +obtaining silk stockings), intoned the excellent stately English of +the Prayers set forth by Authority in Time of War. + +Two pews ahead of her knelt Sir Robert Doyle, in uniform. That simple +soldier was a bigger child than most men, and was, therefore, still +conscious of a number of unfathomable things about him, for the which +Hilda, his godchild, adored and loved him as a mother will adore her +child who sits in a field of buttercups and sees, not minted, nor +botanical, but heavenly gold. He was all the more lovable, because he +conceived that he was much bigger and stronger than she, and perfectly +capable of looking after her. In that, he was like a plucky boy who gets +up from his buttercups to tell his mother not to be frightened when a cow +comes into the field. + +They went out together, and greeted each other in the porch. +"Good-evening, child," said the soldier, with a smile. "And how's Peter?" + +Hilda smiled back, but after a rather wintry fashion, which the man was +quick to note. "I couldn't have told you fresh news yesterday," she said, +"but I had a letter this morning all about his first Sunday. He's at +Rouen at a rest camp for the present, though he thinks he's likely to be +moved almost at once; and he's quite well." + +"And then?" queried the other affectionately. + +"Oh, he doesn't know at all, but he says he doesn't think there's any +chance of his getting up the line. He'll be sent to another part where +there is likely to be a shortage of chaplains soon." + +"Well, that's all right, isn't it? He's in no danger at Rouen, at any +rate. If we go on as we're going on now, they won't even hear the guns +down there soon. Come, little girl, what's worrying you? I can see +there's something." + +They were in the street now, walking towards the park, and Hilda did not +immediately reply. Then she said: "What are you going to do? Can't you +come in for a little? Father and mother will be out till late, and you +can keep me company." + +He glanced at his watch. "I've got to be at the War Office later," he +said, "but my man doesn't reach town till after ten, so I will. The +club's not over-attractive these days. What with the men who think one +knows everything and won't tell, and the men who think they know +everything and want to tell, it's a bit trying." + +Hilda laughed merrily. "Poor Uncle Bob," she said, giving him her +childhood's name that had never been discontinued between them. "You +shall come home with me, and sit in father's chair, and have a still +decent whisky and a cigar, and if you're very good I'll read you part +of Peter's letter." + +"What would Peter say?" + +"Oh, he wouldn't mind the bits I'll read to you. Indeed, I think he'd +like it: he'd like to know what you think. You see, he's awfully +depressed; he feels he's not wanted out there, and--though I don't know +what he means--that things, religious things, you know, aren't real." + +"Not wanted, eh?" queried the old soldier. "Now, I wonder why he resents +that. Is it because he feels snubbed? I shouldn't be surprised if he had +a bit of a swelled head, your young man, you know, Hilda." + +"Sir Robert Doyle, if you're going to be beastly, you can go to your +horrid old club, and I only hope you'll be worried to death. Of course +it isn't that. Besides, he says everyone is very friendly and welcomes +him--only he feels that that makes it worse. He thinks they don't +want--well, what he has to give, I suppose." + +"What he has to give? But what in the world has he to give? He has to +take parade services, and visit hospitals and" (he was just going to say +"bury the dead," but thought it hardly sounded pleasant), "make himself +generally decent and useful, I suppose. That's what chaplains did when I +was a subaltern, and jolly decent fellows they usually were." + +"Well, I know. That's what I should feel, and that's what I don't quite +understand. I suppose he feels he's responsible for making the men +religious--it reads like that. But you shall hear the letter yourself." + +Doyle digested this for a while in silence. Then he gave a sort of snort, +which is inimitable, but always accompanied his outbursts against things +slightly more recent than the sixties. It had the effect of rousing +Hilda, at any rate. + +"Don't, you dear old thing," she said, clutching his arm. "I know +exactly what you're going to say. Young men of your day minded their +business and did their duty, and didn't theorise so much. Very likely. +But, you see, our young men had the misfortune to be born a little later +than you. And they can't help it." She sighed a little. "It _is_ trying +sometimes.... But they're all right really, and they'll come back to +things." + +They were at the gate by now. Sir Robert stood aside to let her pass. "I +know, dear," he said, "I'm an old fogey. Besides, young Graham has good +stuff in him--I always said so. But if he's on the tack of trying to +stick his fingers into people's souls, he's made a mistake in going to +France. I know Tommy--or I did know him. (The Lord alone knows what's in +the Army these days.) He doesn't want that sort of thing. He swears and +he grouses and he drinks, but he respects God Almighty more than you'd +think, and he serves his Queen--I mean his King. A parade service is a +parade, and it's a bore at times, but it's discipline, and it helps in +the end. Like that little 'do' to-night, it helps. One comes away feelin' +one can stand a bit more for the sake of the decent, clean things of +life." + +Hilda regarded the fine, straight old man for a second as they stood, on +the top of the steps. Then her eyes grew a little misty. "God bless you, +Uncle Bob," she said. "You _do_ understand." And the two went in +together. + +Hilda opened the door of the study. "I'm going to make you comfortable +myself," she said. She pulled a big armchair round; placed a reading-lamp +on a small table and drew it close; and she made the old soldier sit in +the chair. Then she unlocked a little cupboard, and got out a decanter +and siphon and glass, and a box of cigars. She placed these by his side, +and stood back quizzically a second. Then she threw a big leather cushion +at his feet and walked to the switches, turning off the main light and +leaving only the shaded radiance of the reading-lamp. She turned the +shade of it so that the light would fall on the letter while she sat +on the cushion, and then she bent down, kissed her godfather, and went +to the door. "I won't be a moment, Uncle Bob," she said. "Help yourself, +and get comfortable." + +Five minutes later the door opened and she came in. As she moved into +the circle of light, the man felt an absurd satisfaction, as if he were +partly responsible for the dignified figure with its beautifully waved +soft, fair hair, of which he was so proud. She smiled on him, and sat +down at his feet, leaning back against his chair and placing her left +elbow on his knees. He laid a caressing hand on her arm, and then looked +steadily in front of him lest he should see more than she wished. + +Hilda rustled the sheets. "The first is all about me," she explained, +"and I'll skip that. Let me see--yes, here we are. Now listen. It's +rather long, but you mustn't say anything till I've finished." + +"'Saturday' (Peter's letter ran) I gave up to getting ready for Sunday, +though Harold' (he's the O.C. of the camp, Peter says, a jolly decent +sort of man) 'wanted me to go up town with him. I had had a talk with him +about the services, and had fixed up to have a celebration in the morning +in the Y.M.C.A. in camp--they have a quiet room, and there is a table in +it that one puts against the wall and uses for an altar--and an evening +service in the canteen-hall part of the place. I couldn't have a morning +service, as I was to go out to the forest camp, as I have told you.' He +said in his first letter how he had been motored out to see a camp in the +forest where they are cutting wood for something, and he had fixed up a +parade," said Hilda, looking up. Doyle nodded gravely, and she went on +reading: "'Harold said he'd like to take Communion, and that I could put +up a notice in the anteroom of the Officers' Mess. + +"'Well, I spent the morning preparing sermons. I thought I'd preach from +"The axe is laid to the root of the tree" in the forest, and make a sort +of little parable out of it for the men. I planned to say how Christ was +really watching and testing each one of us, especially out here, and to +begin by talking a bit about Germany, and how the axe was being laid to +that tree because it wouldn't bear good fruit. I couldn't get much for +the evening, so I thought I'd leave it, and perhaps say much the same as +the morning, only differently introduced. I went and saw the hut manager, +a very decent fellow who is a Baptist minister at home, and he said he'd +like to come in the morning. Well, I didn't know what to say to that; I +hated to hurt him, and, of course, he has no Baptist chapel out here; but +I didn't know what the regulations might be, and excused myself on those +grounds. + +"'Then in the afternoon I went round the camp. Oh, Hilda, I was fearfully +nervous--I don't know why exactly, but I was. The men were playing "crown +and anchor," and sleeping, and cleaning kit (this is a rest camp you +know), and it seemed so cold-blooded somehow. I told them anyone could +come in the evening if he wanted to, but that in the morning the service +was for Church of England communicants. I must say I was very bucked up +over the result. I had no end of promises, and those who were going to be +out in the evening said so straight out. Quite thirty said they'd come in +the morning, and they were very respectful and decent. Then I wrote out +and put up my notices. The mess ragged a bit about it, but quite decently +("Here's the padre actually going to do a bit of work!" and the usual +"I shall be a chaplain in the next war!"); and I mentioned to one or two +whom I knew to be Church of England that Captain Harold had said he would +come to the early service. Someone had told me that if the O.C. of a camp +comes, the others often will. After dinner we settled down to bridge, +and about ten-thirty I was just going off to bed when Harold came in with +two or three other men. Well, I hate to tell you, dear, but I promised +I'd write, and, besides, I do want to talk to somebody. Anyway, he was +what they call "merry," and he and his friends were full of talk about +what they'd done up town. I don't know that it was anything very bad, but +it was awful to me to think that this chap was going to communicate next +day. I didn't know what to do, but I couldn't say anything then, and I +slipped off to bed as soon as I could. They made a huge row in the +anteroom for some time, but at last I got to sleep. + +"'Next morning I was up early, and got things fixed up nicely. At eight +o'clock _one man_ came rather sheepishly--a young chap I'd seen the day +before--and I waited for some five minutes more. Then I began. About the +Creed, Harold came in, and so we finished the service. Neither of them +seemed to know the responses at all, and I don't think I have ever felt +more miserable. However, I had done all I could do, and I let it go at +that. I comforted myself that I would get on better in the forest, where +I thought there was to be a parade. + +"'We got out about eleven o'clock, and I went to the O.C.'s hut. He +was sitting in a deck chair reading a novel. He jumped up when he saw +me, and was full of apologies. He'd absolutely forgotten I was coming, +and so no notice had been given, and, anyway, apparently it isn't the +custom in these camps to have ordered parade services. He sent for the +Sergeant-Major, who said the men were mostly cleaning camp, but he +thought he could get some together. So I sat and talked for about twenty +minutes, and then went over. The canteen had been opened, and there were +about twenty men there. They all looked as if they had been forced in, +except one, who turned out to be a Wesleyan, and chose the hymns out of +the Y.M.C.A. books in the place. They had mission hymns, and the only one +that went well was "Throw out the life-line," which is really a rather +ghastly thing. We had short Matins, and I preached as I had arranged. The +men sat stiffly and looked at me. I don't know why, but I couldn't work +up any enthusiasm and it all seemed futile. Afterwards I tried to talk to +this Wesleyan corporal. He was great on forming a choir to learn hymns, +and then I said straight out that I was new to this sort of work, and I +hoped what I had said was all right. He said: "Yes, sir, very nice, I'm +sure; but, if you'll excuse me, what the men need is converting." + +"'Said I: "What exactly do you mean by that, corporal?" + +"'"Well, sir," he said "they want to be led to put their trust in the +Lord and get right with God. There's many a rough lad in this camp, sir. +If you knew what went on, you'd see it." + +"I said that I had told them God was watching them, and that we had to +ask His daily help to live clean, honest lives, and truly repent of our +sins. + +"'"Yes, you did, sir," he said. "That's what I say, sir, it was very +nice; only somehow these chaps have heard that before. It don't grip, +sir. Now, we had a preacher in our chapel once...." And he went on to +tell me of some revival mission. + +"'Well, I went back to the O.C. He wanted me to have a drink, and I did, +for, to tell you the truth, I felt like it. Then I got back to camp. + +"'In the afternoon I went round the lines again. Hilda, I _wish_ I could +tell you what I felt. Everyone was decent enough, but the men would get +up and salute as I came up, and by the very sound of their voices you +could tell how their talk changed as soon as they saw me. Mind you, they +were much more friendly than men at home, but I felt all the time out of +touch. They didn't want me, and somehow Christ and the Gospel seemed a +long way off. However, we had the evening service. The hut was fairly +full, which pleased me, and I preached a much more "Gospel" address than +in the morning. Some officers came, and then afterwards two or three of +us went out for a stroll and a talk. + +"'Among these officers was a tall chap I had met at the club, named +Langton. He had come down to see somebody in our mess, and had come on to +service. He is an extraordinarily nice person, different from most, a man +who thinks a lot and controls himself. He did most of the talking, and +began as we strolled up the hill. + +"'"Padre," he said, "how _does_ Christ save us?" + +"'I said He had died to obtain our forgiveness from God, and that, if we +trusted in Him, He would forgive and help us to live nobler and manlier +lives. (Of course, I said much more, but I see plainly that that is what +it all comes to.) + +"'When I had done, he walked on for a bit in silence, and then he said, +"Do you think the men understand that?" + +"'I said I thought and hoped they might. It was simple enough. + +"'"Well," he said, "it's hopeless jargon to me. If I try to analyse it, +I am knocked out right and left by countless questions; but leave that. +It is when I try to take you practically at your word that I find you are +mumbling a fetish. Forgive me, but it is so." + +"'I was a little annoyed and very troubled. "Do explain," I said. + +"'"All right, only you mustn't mind if I hurt you," he said. "Take _Trust +in Christ_--well, that either means that a man gets intoxicated by an +idea which does control his life, just as it would if he were intoxicated +by the idea _Trust in Buddha_, or else it comes to nothing. I can't +really trust in a dead man, or a man on the right hand of the throne of +God. What Tommy wants is a pal to lean on in the canteen and the street. +He wants somebody more real and more lovable and more desirable than the +girl who tempts him into sin. And he can't be found. Was he in your +service to-night? Can he be emotionally conjured up by 'Yield not to +temptation' or 'Dare to be a Daniel'? Be honest, padre--the thing is a +spectre of the imagination." + +"'I was absolutely silent. He went on: + +"'"You make much talk of sin and forgiveness. Well, Tommy doesn't +understand what you mean by sin. He is confused to bits about it; but +the main thing that stands out is that a man may break all the Ten +Commandments theologically and yet be a rattling good pal, as brave as +a lion, as merry as a cricket, and the life and soul and _Christ_ of a +platoon. That's the fact, and it is the one thing that matters. But there +is another thing: if a man sins, how is he to get forgiveness? What sort +of a God is it Who will wipe the whole blessed thing out because in a +moment of enthusiasm the sinner says he is sorry? If that's all sin is, +it isn't worth worrying about, and if that is all God is, He's not got +the makings of a decent O.C." + +"'"Good for you, skipper," said the other man. + +"'Langton rounded on him. "It isn't good for me or for anyone," he said. +"And I'll tell you what, my boy: all that I've said doesn't justify a man +making a beast of himself, which is what the majority of us do. I can see +that a man may very wisely get drunk at times, but he's a ---- fool to +get himself sodden with drink." (And he went on to more, Hilda, that I +can't write to you.) + +"'Well, I don't know what I said. I went back utterly miserable. Oh, +Hilda, I think I never ought to have come out here. Langton's right in a +way. We clergy have said the same thing so often that we forget how it +strikes a practical common-sense man. But there must be an answer +somewhere, if I only knew it. Meantime I'm like a doctor among the dying +who cannot diagnose the disease. I'm like a salesman with a shop full of +goods that nobody wants because they don't fulfil the advertisement. And +I never felt more utterly alone in my life. + +"'These men talk a different language from mine; they belong to another +world. They are such jolly good fellows that they are prepared to accept +me as a comrade without question, but as for my message, I might as well +be trying to cure smallpox by mouthing sonorous Virgil--only it is worse +than that, for they no longer even believe that the diagnosis is what I +say. And what gets over me is that they are, on the whole, decent chaps. +There's Harold--he's probably immoral and he certainly drinks too much, +but he's as unselfish as possible, and I feel in my bones he'd do +anything to help a friend. + +"'Of course, I hate their vices. The sights in the streets make me feel +positively sick. I wouldn't touch what they touch with a stick. When I +think of you, so honest and upright and clean....' Oh, but I needn't read +that, Uncle Bob." She turned over a page or so. "I think that's all. +No, just this: + +"'I've been made mess secretary, and I serve out coffee in the canteen +for a couple of hours every other day. That's about all there is to do. I +wish to Heaven I had an ordinary commission!" + +The girl's voice ceased with a suspicious suddenness, and the man's +hand tightened on her arm. For a minute they remained so, and then, +impulsively and unrestrained, she half-turned and sobbed out against his +knees: + +"Oh, Uncle Bob, I'm so unhappy! I feel so sorry for him. And--and--the +worst is, I don't really understand.... I don't see what worries him. Our +religion is good enough, I'm sure. Oh, I _hate_ those beasts of men out +there! Peter's too good for them. I wish he'd never gone. I feel as if +he'd never come back!" + +"There, there, my dear," said the old soldier, uncomfortably. "Don't take +on so. He'll find his feet, you know. It's not so bad as that. You can +trust him, can't you?" + +She nodded vigorously. "But what do _you_ think of it all?" she demanded. + +Sir Robert Doyle cleared his throat. "Well," he began, but stopped. To +him it was an extraordinarily hard thing to speak of religion, partly +because he cherished so whole-heartedly what he had got, and partly +because he had never formulated it, probably for that very reason. Sir +Robert could hardly have told his Maker what he believed about Him. When +he said the Creed he always said it with lowered voice and bowed head, as +one who considered very deeply of the matter, but in fact he practically +never considered at all.... + +"Well," he began again, "you see, dear, it's a strange time out there, +and it is a damned unpleasant age, if you'll excuse me. People can't take +anything these days without asking an infernal number of questions. Some +blessed Socialist'll begin to ask why a man should love his mother next, +and, not getting a scientific answer, argue that one shouldn't. As for +the men, they're all right, or they used to be. 'Love the Brotherhood. +Fear God. Honour the King'--that's about enough for you and me, I take +it, and Graham'll find it's enough for him. And he'll play the game, and +decent men will like him and get--er--helped, my dear. That's all there +is to it. But it's a pity," added the old Victorian Regular, "that these +blessed labour corps, and rest camps, and all the rest of it, don't have +parade services. The boy's bound to miss that. I'm hanged if I don't +speak about it!... And that reminds me.... Good Lord, it's ten o'clock! +I must go." + +He started up, Hilda rose, smiling a little. + +"That's better," said the old fellow; "must be a man, what? It's all a +bit of the war, you know." + +"Oh, Uncle Bob, you _are_ a dear. You do cheer one up, somehow. I wish +men were more like you." + +"No, you don't, my dear, don't you think it. I'm a back number, and you +know it, as well as any." + +"You're not, Uncle Bob. I won't have you say it. Give me a kiss and say +you don't mean it." + +"Well, well, Hilda, there is life in the old dog yet, and I must be off +and show it. No, I won't have another, not before duty. Good-night, dear, +and don't worry." + +Hilda saw him off, and waved her hand from the door. Then she went back +slowly to the study and looked round. She stood a few moments and then +switched off the lights, and went out and slowly upstairs. The maid was +in the bedroom, and she dismissed her, keeping her face turned away. In +front of her glass, she held her letter irresolutely a moment, and then +folded it and slipped it into a drawer. She lifted a photo from the +dressing-table and looked at it for a few minutes earnestly. Then she +went to her window, threw it up, and leaned on the sill, staring hard +over the dark and empty park. + +Outside, the General walked some distance before he found a taxi. He +walked fast for a man of his age, and ruminated as he went. It was his +way, and the way of his kind. Most of the modern sciences left him +unmoved, and although he would vehemently have denied it, he was the +most illogical of men. He held fast by a few good, sound, old-fashioned +principles, and the process of thought, to him, meant turning over a new +thing until he had got it into line with these principles. It was an +excellent method as far as it went, and it made him what he was--a +thoroughly sound and dependable servant of the State in any routine +business. + +At the War Office he climbed more slowly up the steps and into the lobby. +An officer was just coming out, and they recognised each other under the +shaded lights. "Hullo, Chichester, what are you doing here?" demanded +Doyle heartily. "Thought you were in France." + +"So I was, up to yesterday. I've just arrived. Orders." + +"Where have you been?" + +"Rouen. It's a big show now. Place full of new troops and mechanics in +uniform. To tell you the truth, Doyle, the Army's a different proposition +from what it was when you and I were in Egypt and India. But that's a +long time ago, old friend." + +"Rouen, eh? Now, that's a coincidence. A young chap I know has just gone +there, in your department. Graham--Peter Graham. Remember him?" + +"Oh, quite well. A very decent chap, I thought. Joined us ten days ago or +so. What about it? I forget for the moment where we put him." + +"Oh, nothing, nothing. He'll find his feet all right. But what's this +about no parade services these days?" + +"No parade services? We have 'em all right, when we can. Of course, it +depends a bit on the O.C., and in the Labour Corps especially it isn't +usually possible. It isn't like the line, old fellow, and even the line +isn't what we knew it. You can't have parade services in trenches, and +you can't have them much when the men are off-loading bully beef or +mending aeroplanes and that sort of thing. This war's a big proposition, +and it's got to go on. Why? Young Graham grousing?" + +"No, no--oh, no," hastily asserted Doyle, the soul of honour. "No, not at +all. Only mentioned not getting a parade, and it seemed to me a pity. +There's a lot in the good old established religion." + +"Is there?" said the other thoughtfully. "I'm not so sure to-day. The men +don't like being ordered to pray. They prefer to come voluntarily." + +Doyle got fierce. "Don't like being ordered, don't they? Then what the +deuce are they there for? Good Lord, man! the Army isn't a debating +society or a mothers' meeting. You might as well have voluntary games +at a public school!" + +The A.C.G. smiled. "That's it, old headstrong! No, my boy, the Army isn't +a mothers' meeting--at any rate, Fritz doesn't think so. But times have +changed, and in some ways they're better. I'd sooner have fifty men at a +voluntary service than two hundred on a parade." + +"Well, I wouldn't," exploded Doyle. "I know your voluntary +services--Moody and Sankey hymns on a Sunday night. The men had better +be in a decent bar. But turn 'em out in the morning, clean and decent +on parade, and give 'em the old service, and it'll tighten 'em up and +do 'em good. Voluntary service! You'll have volunteer evangelists +instead of Army chaplains next!" + +Colonel Chichester still smiled, but a little grimly. "We've got them," +he said. "And no doubt there's something in what you say; but times +change, and the Church has got to keep abreast of the times. But, look +here, I must go. What about a luncheon? I've not got much leave." + +"So must I; I've an appointment," said Doyle. "But all right, old friend, +to-morrow at the club. But you're younger than I, Chichester, or perhaps +you parsons don't get old as quickly!" + +They shook hands and parted. Sir Robert was busy for an hour, and came +out again with his head full of the proposed plans for the aerial defence +of London. "Taxi, sir?" he was asked at the door. "No," he replied; "I'll +walk home." + +"Best way to think, walking at night," he said to himself as he turned +down Whitehall, through the all but empty streets, darkened as they were. +The meaning of those great familiar spaces struck him as he walked. +Hardly formulating it, he became aware of a sense of pride and +responsibility as he passed scene after scene of England's past glory. +The old Abbey towered up in the moonlight, solemn and still, but almost +as if animate and looking at him. He felt small and old as he passed into +Victoria Street. There the Stores by night made him smile at the +contrast, but in Ashley Gardens Westminster Cathedral made him frown. If +he hated anything, it was that for which it stood. Romanism meant to him +something effeminate, sneaking, monstrous.... That there should be +Englishmen to build such a place positively angered him. He was not +exactly a bigot or a fanatic; he would not have repealed the Emancipation +Acts; and he would have said that if anyone wanted to be a Romanist, +he had better be one. But he would not have had time for anyone who did +so want, and if he should have had to have by any chance dealings with a +priest, he would have been so frigidly polite that the poor fellow would +probably have been frozen solid. Of course, Irishmen were different, +and he had known some capital fellows, Irish priests and chaplains.... + +And then he saw two men ahead of him. They were privates on leave and +drunk, but not hopelessly drunk. They were trying to negotiate the blank +of the entrance to the Catholic Soldiers' Hut in the protecting wall +which guarded the pavement just beyond the cathedral. As Sir Robert came +within earshot, one of them stumbled through it and collapsed profanely. +He halted for a second irresolutely, with the officer's hesitancy at +meddling with a drunken man. + +The fellow on the ground tried to raise himself, and got one elbow on the +gravel. This brought him into such a position that he stared straight at +the illuminated crucifix across the path, and but little farther in. + +"Lor', blimey, Joe," he said, "I'm blasted drunk, I am! Thought I was in +old Wipers, I did, and see one of them blessed cru-crushifixes!" + +The other, rather less away, pulled at his arm. "So yer did, ole pal," he +said. "It's there now. This 'ere's some Cartholic place or other. Come +_hon_." + +"Strike me dead, so it is, Joe, large as life! Christ! oo'd 'ave thought +it? A bloody cru-cru-chifix! Wat's old England comin' to, Joe?" And with +drunken solemnity he began to make a sign of the cross, as he had seen it +done in Belgium. + +The other, in the half-light, plainly started. "Shut your bloody jaw, +'Enery," he said, "It's bad luck to swear near a cruchifix. I saw three +chaps blotted out clean next second for it, back behind Lar Basay. Come +on, will yer? We carn't stay 'ere all the blasted night." + +"You are down on a chap, you are," said the other. "_Hi_ don't mean no +'arm. '_E_ ought to know that, any'ow." He got unsteadily to his feet. +"'E died to save us, 'E did. I 'eard a Y.M.C.A. bloke say them very +words, 'E died on the cru-cru-chifix to save us." + +"'Ere, cheese it, you fool! We'll have somebody out next. Come away with +yer. I've got some Bass in my place, if we git there." + +At this the other consented to come. Together they staggered out, not +seeing Sir Robert, and went off down the street, "'Enery" talking as they +went. The General stood and listened as the man's voice died down. + +"Good for yer, old pal. But 'E died to save us _hall_, 'E did. Made a +bloomer of it, I reckon. Didn't save us from the bloody trenches--not as +I can see, any'ow. If that chap could 'ave told us 'ow to get saved from +the blasted rats an' bugs an'...." + +Sir Robert pulled himself together and walked away sharply. By the +cathedral the carven Christ hung on in the wan yellow light, very still. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Peter lay on a home-made bed between the blankets and contemplated the +ceiling while he smoked his first cigarette. He had been a fortnight at +Rouen, and he was beginning to feel an old soldier--that is to say, he +was learning not to worry too much about outside things, and not to show +he worried particularly about the interior. He was learning to stand +around and smoke endless cigarettes; to stroll in to breakfast and out +again, look over a paper, sniff the air, write a letter, read another +paper, wander round the camp, talk a lot of rubbish and listen to more, +and so do a morning's work. Occasionally he took a service, but his real +job was, as mess secretary, to despatch the man to town for the shopping +and afterwards go and settle the bills. Just at present he was wondering +sleepily whether to continue ordering fish from the big merchants, Biais +Freres et Cie, or to go down to the market and choose it for himself. It +was a very knotty problem, because solving it in the latter way meant +getting up at once. And his batman had not yet brought his tea. + +There came a knock at the door, and the tea came in. With it was a folded +note. "Came last night, sir, but you was out," said the man. He collected +his master's tunic and boots, and departed. + +Peter opened the note and swore definitely and unclerically when he had +read it. It was from some unknown person, who signed himself as Acting +Assistant Chaplain-General, to the effect that he was to be moved to +another base, and that as the A.C.G. was temporarily on leave, he had +better apply to the Colonel of his own group for the necessary movement +order. On the whole this was unintelligible to Peter, but he was already +learning that there was no need to worry about that, for somebody would +be able to read the riddle. What annoyed him was the fact that he had got +to move just as he was settling down. It was certainly a matter for +another cigarette, and as he lit it he perceived one gleam of sunshine: +he need worry no more about the fish. + +Peter waited till Harold had finished his breakfast before he imparted +the news to the world a couple of hours or so later. "I say, skipper," he +said, "I've got to quit." + +"What, padre? Oh, hang it all, no, man! You've only just taken on the +mess secretary's job, and you aren't doing it any too badly either. You +can't go, old dear." + +"I must. Some blighter's written from the A.C.G.'s office, and I've got +to get a movement order from the Colonel of the group, whatever that +means. But I suppose you can put me straight about that, anyway." + +"Sure thing. Come up to the orderly-room 'bout eleven, and you can fill +up the chit and I'll fire it in for you. It's only a matter of form. It +goes through to Colonel Lear at La Croisset. Where to?" + +Peter told him moodily. + +"Eh?" said Harold. "Well, you can cheer up about that. Havre's not at all +a bad place. There are some decent shows about there and some very decent +people. What you got to do?" + +"I don't know; I suppose I shall find out when I get there. But I don't +care what it's like. It's vile having to leave just now, when I'm getting +straight. And what'll you do for a four at bridge?" + +Harold got up and fumbled in his pockets. As usual, there was nothing +there. "Why that damned batman of mine won't put my case in my pocket I +can't think," he said. "I'll have to fire the blighter, though he is T.T. +and used to be a P. and O. steward. Give me a fag, somebody. Thanks. +Well, padre, it's no use grousing. It's a beastly old war, and you're in +the blinkin' British Army, me lad. Drop in at eleven, then. Cheerio till +then." + +At eleven Peter found Harold signing papers. He glanced up. "Oh, +sergeant," he said, "give Captain Graham a Movement Order Application +Form, will you? Sit down, padre; there's a pen there." + +Peter wrestled with the form, which looked quite pretty when it was done. +Harold endorsed it. "Fire this through to the orderly-room, 10th Group, +sergeant," he said, and rose wearily. "Come along, padre," he said: "I've +got to go round the camp, and you can come too, if you've nothing better +to do." + +"When'll I have to go, do you think?" asked Peter as they went out. + +"Oh, I don't know. In a day or two. You'll have to hang about, for the +order may come any time, and I don't know how or when they'll send you." + +Peter did hang about, for ten days, with his kit packed. His recently +acquired calm forsook him about the sixth day, and on the tenth he was +entirely mutinous. At lunch he voiced his grievances to the general mess. + +"Look here, you men," he said, "I'm fed up to the back teeth. I've hung +round this blessed camp for more than a week waiting for that infernal +movement order, and I'm hanged if I'm going to stay in any more. It's a +topping afternoon. Who'll come down the river to La Bouille, or whatever +it is called?" + +Harold volunteered. "That's a good line, padre. I want to go there +myself. Are the boats running now?" + +"Saw 'em yesterday," volunteered somebody, and it was settled. + +The two of them spent a decent afternoon on the river, and at Harold's +insistence went on back right up to town. They dined and went to a +cinema, and got back to camp about midnight. Graham struck a match and +looked at the board in the anteroom. "May as well see if there is +anything for me," he said. There was, of course. He tore the envelope +open. "Good Lord, skipper!" he said. "Here's my blessed movement order, +to report at the Gare du Vert at eight p.m. this very day. I'm only four +hours too late. What the dickens shall I do?" + +Harold whistled. "Show it me," he said. "'The following personnel to +report at Gare du Vert ... at 8 p.m. 28th inst'" he read. "You're for it, +old bird," he continued cheerfully. "But what rot! Look here, it was +handed in to my orderly-room at six-thirty. You'd have hardly had time to +get there at any rate." + +Graham looked over his shoulder. "That's so," he said. "But what'll I do +now?" + +"Haven't a notion," said the other, "except that they'll let you know +quick enough. Don't worry--that's the main thing. If they choke you off, +tell 'em it came too late to get to the station." + +Peter meditated this in silence, and in some dismay. He saw visions of +courts-martial, furious strafing, and unholy terrors. He was to be +forgiven, for he was new to comic opera; and besides, when a page of +_Punch_ falls to one in real life, one hardly realises it till too late. +But it was plain that nothing could be done that night, and he went to +bed with what consolation he could derive from the cheerful Harold. + +Next morning his breakfast was hardly over when an orderly came in. +Harold had been earlier than usual, and had finished and gone out. +"Captain Graham, sir?" queried the man. "Captain Harold's compliments, +and a telephone message has just come in that you are to report to H.Q. +10th Group as quickly as possible." + +Peter brushed himself up, and outwardly cheerful but inwardly quaking, +set off. Half an hour's walk brought him to the place, a little office +near a wharf in a tangle of trolley lines. He knocked, went in, came to +attention, and saluted. + +Colonel Lear was a short, red-faced, boorish fellow, and his Adjutant sat +beside him at the desk, for the Colonel was not particularly well up in +his job. The Adjutant was tall, slightly bald, and fat-faced, and he +leaned back throughout the interview with an air of sneering boredom, +only vouchsafing laconic replies to his superior's occasional questions. +Peter didn't know which he hated the more; but he concluded that whereas +he would like to cut the Colonel in Regent Street, he would enjoy +shooting the Adjutant. + +"Ah!" said the Colonel. "Are you Captain Graham? Well, sir, what's the +meaning of this? You applied for a movement order, and one was sent you, +and you did not report at the station. You damned padres think you can do +any bally thing you choose! Out here for a picnic, I suppose. What is the +meaning of it?" + +"Well, sir," said Peter, "I waited ten days for the order and it did not +come. At last I went out for the afternoon, and got back too late to +execute it. I'm very sorry, but can't I go to-day instead?" + +"Good God, sir! do you think the whole British Army is arranged for your +benefit? Do you think nobody has anything else to do except to arrange +things to suit your convenience? We haven't got troopers with Pullman +cars every day for the advantage of you chaplains, though I suppose you +think we ought to have. Supposing you did have to wait, what about it? +What else have you to do? You'd have waited fast enough if it was an +order to go on leave; that's about all you parsons think about. _I_ don't +know what you can do. What had he better do, Mallony?" + +The Adjutant leaned forward leisurely, surveying Peter coolly. + +"Probably he'd better report to the R.T.O., sir," he said. + +"Oh, very well. It won't be any good, though. Go up to the R.T.O. and ask +him what you can do. Here's the order." (He threw it across the table, +and Peter picked it up, noting miserably the blue legend, "Failed to +Report--R.T.O., Gare du Vert.") "But don't apply to this office again. +Haven't you got a blessed department to do your own damned dirty work?" + +"The A.C.G.'s away, sir," said Peter. + +"On leave, I suppose. Wish to God I were a padre, eh, Mallony? Always on +leave or in Paris, and doin' nothing in between.... Got those returns, +sergeant?... What in hell are you waiting for, padre?" + +For the first time in his life Peter had an idea of what seeing red +really means. But he mastered it by an effort, saluted without a word, +and passed out. + +In a confused whirl he set off for the R.T.O., and with a sinking heart +reached the station, crowded with French peasantry, who had apparently +come for the day to wait for the train. Big notices made it impossible to +miss the Railway Transport Officer. He passed down a passage and into an +office. He loathed and hated the whole wide world as he went in. + +A young man, smoking a cigarette and reading a magazine, glanced +up at him. Peter observed in time that he had two stars only on his +shoulder-strap. Before he could speak, the other said cheerily: "Well, +padre, and what can I do for you?" + +Peter deprecatingly told him. He had waited ten days, etc., and had at +last gone out, and the movement order had come with... + +The other cut him short: "Oh, you're the chap who failed to report, are +you? Blighted rotters they are at these Group H.Q.'s. Chuck us over the +chit." + +Peter brightened up and obeyed. The other read it. "I know," ventured +Peter, "but I got the dickens of a strafe from the Colonel. He said he +had no idea when I could get away, and had better see you. What can I +do?" + +"Silly old ass! You'd better go to-night. There are plenty of trains, +and you're all alone, aren't you? I might just alter the date, but I +suppose now you had better go to his nibs the Deputy Assistant Officer +controlling Transport. He's in the Rue de la Republique, No. 153; you can +find it easily enough. Tell him I sent you. He'll probably make you out +a new order." + +Peter felt enormously relieved. He relaxed, smiled, and got out a +cigarette, offering the other one. "Beastly lot of fuss they make +over nothing, these chaps," he said. + +"I know," said the R.T.O.; "but they're paid for it, my boy, and probably +your old dear had been strafed himself this morning. Well, cheerio; see +you again to-night. Come in time, and I'll get you a decent place." + +The great man's office was up two flights of wooden stairs in what looked +like a deserted house. But Peter mounted them with an easy mind. He had +forgiven Lear, and the world smiled. He still didn't realise he was +acting in _Punch_. + +Outside a suitably labelled door he stood a moment, listening to a +well-bred voice drawling out sarcastic orders to some unfortunate. Then, +with a smile he entered. A Major looked up at him, and heard his story +without a word. Peter got less buoyant as he proceeded, and towards the +end he was rather lame. A silence followed. The great man scrutinised +the order. "Where were you?" he demanded at last, abruptly. + +It was an awkward question. Peter hedged. "The O.C. of my camp asked me +to go out with him," he said at last, feebly. + +The other picked up a blue pencil and scrawled further on the order. +"We've had too much of this lately," he said icily. "Officers appear to +think they can travel when and how they please. You will report to the +D.A.Q.M.G. at Headquarters, 3rd Echelon." He handed the folded order +back, and the miserable Peter had a notion that he meant to add: "And +God have mercy on your soul." + +He ventured a futile remonstrance. "The R.T.O. said you could perhaps +alter the date." + +The Major leaned back and regarded him in silence as a remarkable +phenomenon such as had not previously come his way. Then he sighed, +and picked up a pen. "Good-morning," he said. + +Peter, in the street, contemplated many things, including suicide. If +Colonel Chichester had been in Rouen he would have gone there; as it was, +he did not dare to face that unknown any more than this other. In the end +he set out slowly for H.Q., was saluted by the sentry under the flag, +climbed up to a corridor with many strangely labelled doors, and finally +entered the right one, to find himself in a big room in which half a +dozen men in uniform were engaged at as many desks with orderlies moving +between them. A kind of counter barred his farther passage. He stood at +it forlornly for a few minutes. + +At last an orderly came to him, and he shortly explained his presence and +handed in the much-blued order. The man listened in silence, asked him to +wait a moment, and departed. Peter leaned on the counter and tried to +look indifferent. With a detached air he studied the Kirschner girls on +the walls. These added a certain air to the otherwise forlorn place, but +when, a little later, W.A.A.C.'s were installed, a paternal Government +ordered their removal. But that then mattered no longer to Peter. + +At the last the orderly came back. "Will you please follow me, sir?" he +said. + +Peter was led round the barrier like a sheep to execution, and in +at a small door. He espied a General Officer at a desk by the window, +telephone receiver in one hand, the fateful order in the other. He +saluted. The other nodded. Peter waited. + +"Ah, yes! D.A.Q.M.G. speaking. That 10th Group Headquarters? Oh yes; +good-morning, Mallony. About Captain Graham's movement order. When was +this order applied for at your end?... What? Eighteenth? Humph! What time +did your office receive it?... Eh? Ten a.m.? Then, sir, I should like to +know what it was doing in your office till six p.m. This officer did not +receive it till six-thirty. What? He was out? Yes, very likely, but it +reached his mess at six-thirty: it is so endorsed.... Colonel Lear has +had the matter under consideration? Good. Kindly ask Colonel Lear to come +to the telephone." + +He leaned back, and glanced up at Graham, taking him in with a grave +smile. "I understand you waited ten days for this, Captain Graham," he +said. "It's disgraceful that it should happen. I am glad to have had an +instance brought before me, as we have had too many cases of this sort of +thing lately...." He broke off. "Yes? Colonel Lear? Ah, good-morning, +Colonel Lear. This case of the movement order of Captain Graham has just +been brought to me. This officer was kept waiting ten days for his order, +and then given an impossibly short time to report. Well, it won't do, +Colonel. There must be something very wrong in your orderly-room; kindly +see to it. Chaplains have other things to do than sit around in camps +waiting the convenience of Group Headquarters. The application for this +order reached us on the 27th, and was sent off early next morning, in +ample time for the officer to travel. I am very displeased about it. You +will kindly apply at once for a fresh order, and see that it is in +Captain Graham's hands at least six hours before he must report. That +is all. Good-morning." + +Peter could hardly believe his ears, but he could barely keep a straight +face either. The D.A.Q.M.G. hung up the receiver and repeated the latter +part of the message. Peter thanked him and departed, walking on air. A +day later an orderly from the group informed him at 11 a.m. that the +order had been applied for and might be expected that day, and at 1 +o'clock he received it. Such is the humour of the high gods who control +the British Army. But he never saw Colonel Lear again, and was thankful. + +Peter reached his new base, then, early in March in a drizzle of rain. He +was told his camp and set off to find it, and for an hour walked through +endless docks, over innumerable bridges, several of which, being open to +admit and let out ships, caused him pretty considerable delay. It was a +strange, new experience. The docks presented types of nearly every +conceivable nationality and of every sort of shipping. French marines and +seamen were, of course everywhere, but so were Chinese, South African +natives, Egyptians, Senegalese, types of all European nationalities, +a few of the first clean, efficient-looking Americans in tight-fitting +uniforms, and individual officers of a score of regiments. + +The old town ended in a row of high, disreputable-looking houses that +were, however, picturesque enough, and across the _pave_ in front of them +commenced the docks. One walked in and out of harbours and waterways, the +main stretch of harbour opening up more and more on the right hand, and +finally showing two great encircling arms that nearly met, and the grey +Channel beyond. Tossing at anchor outside were more than a dozen ships, +waiting for dark to attempt the crossing. As he went, a seaplane came +humming in from the mists, circled the old town, and took the harbour +water in a slither of foam. He had to wait while a big Argentine ship +ploughed slowly in up a narrow channel, and then, in the late afternoon, +crossed a narrow swing foot-bridge, and found himself on the main outer +sea-wall. + +Following directions, he turned to the right and walked as if going out +to the harbour mouth a mile or so ahead. It seemed impossible that his +camp should be here, for on the one hand he was close to the harbour, and +on the other, over a high wall and some buildings, was plainly to be +espied the sea. A few hundred yards on, however, a crowd of Tommies were +lined up and passing embarkation officers for a big trooper, and Peter +concluded that this was the leave boat by which he was to mark his camp +across the road and more or less beyond it. + +He crossed a railway-line, went in at a gate, and was there. + +The officers' quarters had a certain fascination. You stepped out of +the anteroom and found yourself on a raised concrete platform at the +back of which washed the sea. Very extensive harbour works, half +completed, ran farther out in a great semicircle across a wide space of +leaden water, over which gulls were circling and crying; but the thin +black line of this wall hardly interrupted one's sense of looking +straight out to sea, and its wide mouth away on the right let in the +real invigorating, sea-smelling wind. The camp itself was a mere strip +between the railway-line and the water, a camp of R.E.'s to which he was +attached. He was also to work a hospital which was said to be close by. + +It was pointed out to him later. The railway ran out all but to the +harbour mouth, and there ended in a great covered, wide station. Above +it, large and airy, with extensive verandahs parallel to the harbour, +was the old Customs, and it was this that had been transformed into a +hospital. It was an admirable place. The Red Cross trains ran in below, +and the men could be quickly swung up into the cool, clean wards above. +These, all on one level, had great glass doors giving access to the +verandahs, and from the verandahs broad gangways could be placed, running +men, at high tide, on to the hospital ship alongside. The nurses' +quarters were beyond, and their sitting-room was perched up, as it +were, sea on one side and harbour on the other. + +At present, of course, Peter did not know all this. He was merely +conducted by an orderly in the dusk to the anteroom of the mess, and +welcomed by the orderly-officer, who led him into a comfortable room +already lit, in a corner of which, near a stove, four officers sat at +cards. + +"Hearts three," said one as Peter came in. + +"Pass me," said another, and it struck Peter that he knew the tone. + +The four were fairly absorbed in their game, but the orderly officer led +Peter towards the table. At that they looked up, and next minute one had +jumped up and was greeting him. + +"By all that's wonderful! It's you again," he said. + +"Donovan!" exclaimed Peter, "What: are you doing here?" + +The South African held out his hand. "I've got attached to one of our +nigger outfits," he said, "just up the dock from here. But what are you +doing?" + +"Oh, I've been moved from Rouen," said Peter, "and told to join up here. +Got to look after the hospital and a few camps. And I was told," he +added, "I'd live in this camp." + +"Good enough," said Donovan. "Let me introduce you. This is Lieutenant +Pennell, R.E.--Lieutenant Pennell, Captain Graham. This is a bird of your +kidney, mess secretary and a great man, Padre Arnold, and this is one +Ferrars, Australian Infantry. He tried to stop a shell," went on Donovan +easily, "and is now recovering. The shock left him a little insane, or so +his best friends think; hence, as you may have heard, he has just gone +three hearts. And that's all anyone can do at present, padre, so have a +cigarette and sit down. I hope you haven't changed your old habits, as +you are just in time for a sun-downer. Orderly!" + +He pulled up a large easy-chair, and Peter subsided into it with a +pleasant feeling of welcome. He remembered, now, having heard that +Donovan was at Havre, but it was none the less a surprise to meet him. + +Donovan played a good hand when he liked, but when he was not meeting +his mettle, or perhaps when the conditions were not serious enough, he +usually kept up a diverting, unorthodox run of talk the whole time. Peter +listened and took in his surroundings lazily. "Come on," said his friend, +playing a queen. "Shove on your king, Pennell; everyone knows you've got +him. What? Hiding the old gentleman, are you? Why, sure it's myself has +him all the time"--gathering up the trick and leading the king. "Perhaps +somebody's holding up the ace now...." and so on. + +Pennell played well too, but very differently. He was usually bored with +his luck or the circumstances, and until you got to know him you were +inclined to think he was bored with you. He was a young-looking man of +thirty-five, rather good-looking, an engineer in peace-time who had +knocked about the world a good deal, but hardly gave you that impression. +The Australian played poorly. With curly dark hair and a perpetual pipe, +his face was almost sullen in repose, but it lit up eagerly enough at +any chance excitement. Arnold was easily the eldest, a short man with +iron-grey hair and very kindly eyes, a man master of himself and his +circumstances. Peter watched him eagerly. He was likely to see a good +deal of him, he thought, and he was glad there would be a padre as well +in camp. + +Donovan and Ferrars won the game and so the rubber easily, and the former +pushed his chair back from the table. "That's enough for me, boys," he +said. "I must trek in a minute. Well, padre, and what do you think of the +Army now?" + +"Mixed biscuits rather," Peter said. "But I had a rum experience getting +here. You wouldn't have thought it possible," and he related the story +of the movement order. At the close, Pennell nodded gloomily. "Pack of +fools they are!" he said. "Hardly one of them knows his job. You can +thank your lucky stars that the D.A.Q.M.G. had a down on that Colonel +What's-his-name, or it would have taken you another month to get here, +probably--eh, Donovan?" + +"That's so, old dear," said that worthy, "But I'm hanged if I'd have +cared. Some place, Rouen. Better'n this hole." + +"Well, at Rouen they said this was better," said Peter. + +Arnold laughed. "That's the way of the Army," he said. "It's all much the +same, but you would have to go far to beat this camp." + +Pennell agreed. "You're right there, padre," he said. "This is as neat a +hole as I've struck. If you know the road," he went on to Peter, "you can +slip into town in twenty-five minutes or so, and we're much better placed +than most camps. There's no mud and cinders here, is there, Donovan? His +camp's built on cinders," he added. + +"There are not," said that worthy, rising. "And you're very convenient to +the hospital here, padre. You better get Arnold to show you round; he's a +dog with the nurses." + +"What about the acting matron, No. 1 Base?" demanded Arnold. "He has tea +there every Sunday," he explained to Peter, "and he a married man, too." + +"It's time I went," said Donovan, laughing; "all the same, there's a +concert on Tuesday in next week, a good one, I believe, and I've promised +to go and take some people. Who'll come? Pennell, will you?" + +"Not this child, thanks. Too many nurses, too much tea, and too much talk +for me. Now, if you would pick me out a pretty one and fix up a little +dinner in town, I'm your man, old bean." + +"Well, that might be managed. It's time we had a flutter of some sort. +I'll see. What about you, Graham? You game to try the hospital? You'll +have to get to know the ropes of them all, you know." + +"Yes, I'll come," said Peter--"if I can, that is." He looked inquiringly +at Arnold. + +"Oh, your time is more or less your own," he replied--"at least, it is +our side of the house. Are you C.G. or P.C.?" + +"Good God, padre!" said the Australian, getting up too, "what in the +world do you mean?" + +"Chaplain-General's Department or Principal Chaplain's Department, Church +of England or Nonconformist. And it's sixpence a swear in this mess." +Arnold held out a hand. + +Donovan caught his friend by the arm. "Come on out of it," he said. "You +won't get back in time if you don't. The padre's a good sort; you needn't +mind him. So long everybody. Keep Tuesday clear, Graham. I'll call for +you." + +"Well, I'd better fix you up, Graham," said Arnold. "For my sins I'm mess +secretary, and as the president's out and likely to be, I'll find a place +for you." + +He led Peter into the passage, and consulted a board on the wall. "I'd +like to put you next me, but I can't," he said. "Both sides occupied. +Wait a minute. No. 10 Pennell, and No. 11's free. How would you like +that? Pennell," he called through the open door, "what's the next room to +yours like? Light all right?" + +"Quite decent," said Pennell, coming to the door. "Going to put him +there, padre? Let's go and see." Then the three went off together down +the passage. + +The little room was bare, except for a table under the window, Arnold +opened it, and Peter saw he looked out over the sea. Pennell switched on +the light and found it working correctly, and then sauntered across the +couple of yards or so of the cubicle's width to look at the remains of +some coloured pictures pasted on the wooden partition. + +"Last man's made a little collection from _La Vie Parisienne_ for you, +padre," he said, "Not a very bright selection, either. You'll have to +cover them up, or it'll never do to bring your A.C.G. or A.P.C., or +whatever he is, in here. What a life!" he added, regarding them. "They +are a queer people, the French.... Well, is this going to do?" + +Graham glanced at Arnold, "Very well," he said, "if it's all right for me +to have it." + +"Quite all right," said Arnold. "Remember, Pennell is next door left, so +keep him in order. Next door right is the English Channel, more or less. +Now, what about your traps?" + +"I left them outside the orderly-room," said Peter, "except for some +that a porter was to bring up. Perhaps they'll be here by now. I've got +a stretcher and so on." + +"I'll go and see," said Pennell, "and I'll put my man on to get you +straight, as you haven't a batman yet." And he strolled off. + +"Come to my room a minute," said Arnold, and Peter followed him. + +Arnold's room was littered with stuff. The table was spread with mess +accounts, and the corners of the little place were stacked up with a +gramophone, hymn-books, lantern-slides, footballs, boxing-gloves, and +such-like. The chairs were both littered, but Arnold cleared one by the +simple expedient of piling all its contents on the other, and motioned +his visitor to sit down. "Have a pipe?" he asked, holding out his pouch. + +Peter thanked him, filled and handed it back, then lit his pipe, and +glanced curiously round the room as he drew on it. "You're pretty full +up," he said. + +"Fairly," said the other. "There's a Y.M.C.A. here, and I run it more or +less, and Tommy likes variety. He's a fine chap, Tommy; don't you think +so?" + +Peter hesitated a second, and the other glanced at him shrewdly. + +"Perhaps you haven't been out long enough," he said. + +"Perhaps not," said Peter. "Not but what I do like him. He's a cheerful +creature for all his grousing, and has sterling good stuff in him. But +religiously I don't get on far. To tell you the truth, I'm awfully +worried about it." + +The elder man nodded. "I guess I know, lad," he said. "See here. I'm +Presbyterian and I reckon you are Anglican, but I expect we're up against +much the same sort of thing. Don't worry too much. Do your job and talk +straight, and the men'll listen more than you think." + +"But I don't think I know what to tell them," said Peter miserably, but +drawn out by the other. + +Arnold smiled. "The Prayer Book's not much use here, eh? But forgive me; +I don't mean to be rude. I know what you mean. To tell you the truth, I +think this war is what we padres have been needing. It'll help us to find +our feet. Only--this is honest--if you don't take care you may lose them. +I have to keep a tight hold of that"--and he laid his hand on a big +Bible--"to mind my own." + +Peter did not reply for a minute. He could not talk easily to a stranger. +But at last he said: "Yes; but it doesn't seem to me to fit the case. Men +are different. Times are different. The New Testament people took certain +things for granted, and even if they disagreed, they always had a common +basis with the Apostles. Men out here seem to me to talk a different +language: you don't know where to begin. It seems to me that they have +long ago ceased to believe in the authority of anyone or anything in +religion, and now to-day they actually deny our very commonplaces. But +I don't know how to put it," he added lamely. + +Arnold puffed silently for a little. Then he took his pipe out of his +mouth and regarded it critically. "God's in the soul of every man still," +he said. "They can still hear Him speak, and speak there. And so must we +too, Graham." + +Peter said nothing. In a minute or so steps sounded in the passage, and +Arnold looked up quickly. "Maybe," he said, "our ordinary life prevented +us hearing God very plainly ourselves, Graham, and maybe He has sent us +here for that purpose. I hope so. I've wondered lately if we haven't come +to the kingdom for such a time as this." + +Pennell pushed the door open, and looked in. "You there, Graham?" he +asked. "Oh, I thought I'd find him here, padre; his stuff's come." + +Peter got up. "Excuse me, Arnold," he said; "I must shake in. But I'm +jolly glad you said what you did, and I hope you'll say it again, and +some more." + +The older man smiled an answer, and the door closed. Then he sighed a +little, and stretched out his hand again for the Bible. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The great central ward at No. 1 Base Hospital looked as gay as possible. +In the centre a Guard's band sat among palms and ferns, and an +extemporised stage, draped with flags, was behind, with wings constructed +of Japanese-figured material. Pretty well all round were the beds, +although many of them had been moved up into a central position, and +there was a space for chairs and forms. The green-room had to be outside +the ward, and the performers, therefore, came and went in the public +gaze. But it was not a critical public, and the men, with a plenitude +of cigarettes, did not object to pauses. On the whole, they were +extraordinarily quiet and passive. Modern science has made the +battlefield a hell, but it has also made the base hospital something +approaching a Paradise. + +There were women in plenty. The staff had been augmented by visitors from +most of the other hospitals in the town, and there was a fair sprinkling +of W.A.A.C.'s, Y.M.C.A. workers, and so on, in addition. Jack Donovan +and Peter were a little late, and arrived at the time an exceedingly +popular subaltern was holding the stage amid roars of laughter. They +stood outside one of the many glass doors and peered in. + +Once inside, one had to make one's way among beds and chairs, and the +nature of things brought one into rather more than the usual share of +late-comers' scrutiny, but nothing could abash Donovan. He spotted at +once a handsome woman in nurse's indoor staff uniform, and made for her. +She, with two others, was sitting on an empty bed, and she promptly made +room for Donovan. Graham was introduced, and a quiet girl moved up a bit +for him to sit down; but there was not much room, and the girl would not +talk, so that he sat uncomfortably and looked about him, listening with +one ear to the fire of chaff on his right. Donovan was irrepressible. His +laugh and voice, and the fact that he was talking to a hospital +personage, attracted a certain amount of attention. Peter tried to smile, +but he felt out of it and observed. He stared up towards the band, which +was just striking up again. + +Suddenly he became conscious, as one will, that someone was particularly +looking at him. He glanced back over the chairs, and met a pair of eyes, +roguish, laughing, and unquestionably fixed upon him. The moment he saw +them, their owner nodded and telegraphed an obvious invitation. Peter +glanced at Donovan: he had not apparently seen. He looked back; the eyes +called him again. He felt himself getting hot, for, despite the fact that +he had a kind of feeling that he had seen those eyes before, he was +perfectly certain he did not know the girl. Perhaps she had made a +mistake. He turned resolutely to his companion. + +"Jolly good band, isn't it?" he said. + +"Yes," she replied. + +"But I suppose at a hospital like this you're always hearing decent +music?" he ventured. + +"Not so often," she said. + +"This band is just back from touring the front, isn't it? My friend said +something to that effect." + +"I believe so," she said. + +Peter could have cursed her. It was impossible to get anything out of +her, though why he had not a notion. The answer was really simple, for +she wanted to be next Donovan, and wasn't, and she was all the while +scheming how to get there. But Peter did not tumble to that; he felt an +ass and very uncomfortable, and he broke into open revolt. + +He looked steadily towards the chairs. The back of the girl who had +looked at him was towards him now, for she was talking sideways to +somebody; but he noted an empty chair just next her, and that her uniform +was not that of the nurses of this hospital. He felt confident that she +would look again, and he was not disappointed. Instantly he made up his +mind, nodded, and reached for his cap. "I see a girl I know over there," +he said to his neighbour. "Excuse me, will you?" Then he got up and +walked boldly over to the vacant chair. He was fast acclimatising to war +conditions. + +He sat down on that empty chair and met the girl's eyes fairly. She was +entirely at her ease and laughing merrily. "I've lost my bet," she said, +"and Tommy's won." + +"And you've made me tell a thundering lie," he replied, laughing too, +"which you know is the first step towards losing one's soul. Therefore +you deserve your share in the loss." + +"Why? What did you say?" she demanded. + +"I said I saw a girl I knew," he replied. "But I haven't any idea who you +are, though I can't help feeling I've seen you before." + +She chuckled with amusement, and turned to her companion. "He doesn't +remember, Tommy," she said. + +The second girl looked past her to Peter. "I should think not," she said. +"Nobody would. But he'll probably say in two minutes that he does. You're +perfectly shameless, Julie." + +Julie swung round to Peter. "You're a beast, Tommy," she said over her +shoulder, "and I shan't speak to you again. You see," she went on to +Peter, "I could see you had struck a footling girl, and as I don't know a +single decent boy here, I thought I'd presume on an acquaintance, and see +if it wasn't a lucky one. We've got to know each other, you know. The +girl with me on the boat--oh, damn, I've told you!--and I am swearing, +and you're a parson, but it can't be helped now--well, the girl told me +we should meet again, and that it was probably you who was mixed up with +my fate-line. What do you think of that?" + +Peter had not an idea, really. He was going through the most amazing set +of sensations. He felt heavy and dull, and as if he were utterly at a +loss how to deal with a female of so obviously and totally different a +kind from any he had met before; but, with it all, he was very conscious +of being glad to be there. Underneath everything, too, he felt a bit of a +dare-devil, which was a delightful experience for a London curate; and +still deeper, much more mysteriously and almost a little terrifyingly, +something stranger still, that he had known this girl for ages, although +he had not seen her for a long time. "I'm highly privileged, I'm sure," +he said, and could have kicked himself for a stupid ass. + +"Oh Lord!" said Julie, with a mock expression of horror; "for goodness' +sake don't talk like that. That's the worst of a parson: he can't forget +the drawing-room. At any rate, I'm not sure that _I'm_ highly fortunate, +but I thought I ought to give Fate a chance. Do you smoke?" + +"Yes," said Peter wonderingly. + +"Then for goodness' sake smoke, and you'll feel better. No, I daren't +here, but I'm glad you are educated enough to ask me. Nurses aren't +supposed to smoke in public, you know, and I take it that even you have +observed that I'm a nurse." + +She was quite right. Peter drew on his cigarette and felt more at +ease. "Well, to be absolutely honest, I had," he said. "And I observe, +moreover, that you are not wearing exactly an English nurse's uniform, +and that you have what I might venture to call a zoological badge. I +therefore conclude that, like my friend Donovan, you hail from South +Africa. What hospital are you in?" + +"Quai de France," she said. "Know it?" + +Peter repressed a start. "Quai de France?" he queried. "Where's that, +now?" + +At this moment a song started, but his companion dropped her voice to +stage whisper and replied: "End of the harbour, near where the leave-boat +starts. Know it now?" + +He nodded, but was saved a reply. + +She looked away toward the platform, and he studied her face +surreptitiously. It seemed very young till you looked closely, especially +at the eyes, and then you perceived something lurking there. She was +twenty-seven or twenty-eight, he concluded. She looked as if she knew the +world inside out, and as if there were something hidden below the gaiety. +Peter felt curiously and intensely attracted. His shyness vanished. He +had, and had had, no intimations of the doings of Providence, and nobody +could possibly be more sceptical of fate-lines than he, but it dawned on +him as he stared at her that he would fathom that look somehow, +somewhere. + +"I'm practically not made up at all," she whispered, without turning her +head, "so for Heaven's sake don't say there's too much powder on my +nose." + +Peter shook silently. "No, but a faint trace on the right cheek," he +whispered back. She turned then and looked at him, and her eyes +challenged his. And yet it is to be supposed that Hilda knew nothing +whatever about it. + +"'_Right on my mother's knee_....'" sang the platform. + +"'_Without a shirt, without a shirt_,'" gagged Peter, _sotto voce_, and +marvelled at himself. But he felt that her smothered laughter amply +rewarded him. + +The song ceased in time, and the encore, which they both rigorously +demanded. And immediately she began again. + +"I hope to goodness tea isn't far off," she said. "By the way, you'll +have to take me to it, now, you know. We go out of that door, and up a +flight of steps, and there's the matron's room on the top and a visitor's +room next to it, and tea'll be there. It will be a fiendish squash, and I +wouldn't go if I hadn't you to get me tea and take me away afterwards as +soon as possible." + +"I'm highly privileged, I'm sure," said Peter again, quite deliberately. +She laughed. "You are," she said. "Look how you're coming on! Ten minutes +ago you were a bored curate, and now you're--what are you?" + +Peter hesitated perceptibly. He felt he might say many things. Then he +said "A trapped padre," and they both laughed. + +"Thank goodness you're not sentimental, anyway," she said. "Nor's your +friend; but the matron is. I know her sort. Look at them." + +Peter looked. Donovan appeared still entirely at his ease, but he was +watching Peter, who realised why he had been made to look. He brazened +it out, smiled back at him, and turned perfectly deliberately to his +companion. + +"Julie," he said, "don't look over there any more, for goodness' sake, or +we'll have Donovan here. And if he comes he'll sail in and take you to +tea without a word. I know him. He's got an unfair advantage over me. I'm +just waking up, and he's been awake for years. Please give me a chance." + +She leaned, back and regarded him humorously. "You're not doing so +badly," she said, "I don't know that a man has ever called me 'Julie' +before in the first quarter of an hour. Do you know that, Solomon?" + +"It's your fault, I've never been introduced, and I must call you +something, so why not the name your friend called you? Julie's very +pretty and suits you. Somehow I couldn't call you 'Miss' anything, though +it may be convenient to know the rest. Do you think you could call me the +Rev. Peter Graham?" + +"I couldn't," she confessed, slightly more solemnly. "Queer, isn't it? +But don't, talk about it: it isn't lucky. I shall call you Solomon for +ever now. And you can only call me Miss Gamelyn when you've got to. See?" + +"But why in the world 'Solomon'? It doesn't fit me a bit." + +"Oh," she said, "it does, but don't worry why. Perhaps because, as the +old man said to the vicar when he heard of Solomon's wives, you are a +highly privileged Christian. You can't deny that, since you've said it +twice. Praises be, here is tea. Come on; come on, Tommy. Oh, Tommy, this +is the Very Reverend Peter Graham. Mr. Graham, this is one Raynard, +commonly known as Tommy, my half-section, so try to be polite." + +There was a general movement, and Peter shook hands as he got up. The +other girl struck him at once as a good sort. + +"You're booked to take us to tea, I suppose?" she said. "Julie's far more +practical than you'd imagine, padre." + +They left the row of chairs together, Julie well in front and apparently +forgetful of their existence. As they came abreast of the empty bed, +Peter noticed that the assistant matron had gone, and that Donovan was +drifting in the stream alongside her in front. But before they were out +of the great ward, Julie and he were laughing together. Peter felt +absurdly hurt, and hated himself for feeling it. The other girl was +talking at his elbow, but he made ridiculous and commonplace replies and +hardly noticed her. She broke off at last abruptly, and he roused himself +to carry on. He caught her expression, and somehow or other it landed him +deeper in the business. He made a deliberate move. + +"Where are you going after this?" he asked. + +"Down town to do some shopping; then I suppose home, unless a fit seizes +Julie and we run a risk once more of being summarily repatriated." + +He laughed. "Does that often happen?" + +"Quite often. You see ours is an English hospital, though we are South +Africans attached to it. I think they're much more strict than Colonial +hospitals. But they give us more latitude than the rest, at any rate. +Julie had a fearful row once, and simply declared she would do some +things, and since then they turn a blind eye occasionally. But there are +limits, and one day she'll step over them--I know she will." + +"Let's hope not," said Peter; "but now let me get you some tea." + +The little room was packed, but Peter got through somehow and made his +way to a series of tables spread with cakes and sandwiches. He got a cup +and seized a plate, and shouldered his way back. In the crush he saw only +the top of Miss Raynard's head, and made for that. "Here you are," he +said cheerfully, as he emerged. "Have a sandwich?" + +"Thanks," she said as she took it; "but why didn't you bring two cups?" + +"Why?" he asked. + +She nodded towards a corner and there was Julie, wedged in between +people, and refusing tea from a subaltern. "She expects you to bring it," +said Miss Raynard. + +Peter looked puzzled, "Where's Donovan?" he said. "I thought she came in +with him." + +The girl smiled. "She did, but she arranged for you to bring her tea, +whoever Donovan is, and she'll wait for it. She's that sort. Besides, if +Donovan was that officer with the matron, he's probably got other fish to +fry." + +Peter waited for no more, but plunged into the press again. As he +emerged, he crossed the track of his friend, who was steering about with +cakes. "Hullo, padre," that individual said; "you're a smart one, you +are. Let's take those girls out to dinner. They'll come all right." + +Peter mumbled something, and went on with his tea towards the corner. The +other's readiness and effrontery staggered him, but he wasn't going to +give himself away. + +"You're a brute!" said Julie promptly. "Where have you been?" + +"It's where have you been, you mean," retorted Peter. "I thought I was to +take you in to tea. When last I saw you, you had Donovan in tow." + +"And you had Tommy. Don't you like her?" + +"Awfully," said Peter; "I think she wants something now. But do come +across to our side. Aren't you going soon?" + +"Yes, when we can get away. Remember, everyone is watching. You go on +out, and we can meet you below." + +"Right," said Peter; "I'll collect Donovan." + +He found him after a bit, and the two made their adieus and thanks. + +As they went down the steps, Jack outlined the campaign. "I just joked to +her about dinner," he said, "but I think they'll rise. If they do, we'll +go to Travalini's, if they dare. That girl of yours is up to anything: +she knows a thing or two. You've some nerve, old thing." + +"Nothing to yours," retorted Graham, still not at all sure of himself. +"But, look here, what about Travalini's? I don't know that I care to go +there." + +"Oh, it's all right, old dear. You haven't a vast collar on now, and you +ought to see life. I've seen scores of chaplains there, even old Arnold. +I'll look after your morals. Come on; let's get out and across the road. +We shall see them coming down the steps." + +The hospital fronted on to the sea and the promenade that once was so +fashionable. The sun was setting, blood red, over the Channel, the ships +at anchor looking dark by contrast. But there was still plenty of light, +and Peter was inwardly conscious of his badges. Still, he told himself +that he was an ass, and the two of them sauntered slowly townwards. + +In a few minutes Jack glanced back. "They're coming," he said, and as the +girls crossed on to the pavement behind them, turned round. "Good for +you," he said. "You got out quicker than I thought you would. Shall we +tram or walk?" + +"Walk, I think," said Julie; "it's topping here by the sea. I want to get +a pair of shoes, and the shop's not too far. Besides, you can buy shoes +by artificial light, which won't do for some things. Tommy bought a hat +the other night, and she nearly had a fit in the morning. She's keeping +it for the next fancy-dress stunt." + +She ran on, and, despite Peter, Donovan annexed her. They set off gaily +ahead, Julie's clear laugh coming back now and again. Peter felt +depressed and angry. He told himself he was being let in for something he +did not want, and he had not much to say. To make conversation, he asked +about South Africa. + +It appeared the girls came from Natal. Miss Raynard was enthusiastic, and +he gathered they had been trained together in Pietermaritzburg, but lived +somewhere on the coast, where there was tennis all the year and moonlight +bathing picnics in the season, and excellent river boating. He could not +catch the name, but it was not too far from Durban. He said, in the end, +that he had always wanted to visit South Africa, and should certainly +come to Natal.... + +They turned off the promenade into a boulevard lined with the usual +avenue of trees. It was dusk now, and looked darker by contrast with the +street lamps. Small tram-cars rushed by now and again, with clanging +bells and platforms crowded before and behind, and there were plenty of +people in the street, Julie turned abruptly. + +"I say, Tommy," she said, "Captain Donovan wants us to go out to +dinner. What do you say? My shoes can wait, and we needn't be in till +eight-thirty. It's not more than six now. It will be a spree." + +"I'm game; but where are we going?" + +"I suggest Travalini's, padre," said Donovan. + +"Not for me;" said Miss Raynard; "it's too public and you seem to forget, +Captain' Donovan, that we are forbidden to dine with officers." + +"Nobody is likely to give us away, Tommy," said Miss Gamelyn. + +"I'm not going to take the risk in uniform. Let's go to a quiet hotel, or +else to some very French place. That would be fun." + +"A jolly good idea," cried Donovan, "and I know what will just fix us up. +Come on." + +Tommy smiled. "Probably it _will_ fix us up. Tell us about it first." + +"It's absolutely safe," Donovan protested. "It's quite French, and we +shall get one knife and fork each. There's a cinema on top, and billiards +underneath, and practically no officers go. A Belgian Captain I came out +with took me. He said you could 'eat well' there, and you can, for the +cooking is a treat. I swear it's all right." + +"Lead on," said Julie; "we'll trust you," and she manoeuvred so that her +half-section was left with Donovan. + +The four walked briskly through the dusk. "Don't you love France in the +evening?" demanded Julie. + +"Yes," said Peter, but dubiously. "I don't know it much yet," he added. + +"Oh, I do. Even a girl can almost do what she likes out here. I've had +some awful fun in Havre. I think one ought to take one's pleasure when +one has the chance, don't you? But some of these girls give me the hump; +they're so narrow. They can't see you with a man without imagining all +sorts of things, whereas I've had some rattling good pals among men out +here. Then they're so afraid of doing things--the girls, I mean. Do you +know I went to Paris when I came up here from Boulogne? Had absolutely +_the_ time. Of course, nobody knows, so don't speak of it--except Tommy, +of course." + +"How did you do it?" demanded Peter, amused. + +"Well, you see, I and another girl, English, were sent over by Boulogne, +as you know, because you saw us on the boat, and we were supposed to come +straight here. In the train we met a Canadian in the French Air Service, +and he put us wise about changing, and so on. But it appeared you have +to change at Amiens in the middle of the night, and he said the thing was +to sleep in the train and go right on to Paris. Then you got twenty-four +hours there, and left next day by the Havre express. The girl was +horribly scared, but I said we'd try it. Nothing happened at all. We had +a carriage to ourselves, and merely sat still at Amiens. When we got +to Paris we simply walked out, bold as brass. I showed our tickets at +Havre and told the French inspector we had overslept. He merely told us +the time to leave next day. We went to an hotel, and then strolled up the +Avenue de l'Opera. And what do you think? Who should I see but an old dear +of a General I knew out in South Africa who is in the French Red Cross. +He was simply delighted to see us. He motored us out to the Bois in the +afternoon, dined us, and took us to the theatre--only, by Jove! I did +curse that other girl. She was in a ferment all the time. Next morning he +had a job on, but he sent a car for us with a subaltern to put us on the +train, and we went to the R.T.O. this time. He couldn't do enough for us +when he heard the name of General de Villiers and saw his card. We got +into Havre at midday, and nobody was a penny the wiser." + +Peter laughed. "You were lucky," he said; "perhaps you always are." + +"No, I'm not," she said "but I usually do what I want and get through +with it. Hullo, is this the place?" + +"I suppose so," said Peter. "Now for it. Look as if you'd been going to +such places all your life." + +"I've probably been more often than you, anyhow, Solomon," said Julie, +and she ran lightly up the steps. + +They passed through swing-doors into a larger hall brilliantly lit and +heavy with a mixed aroma of smoke and food. There was a sort of hum of +sound going on all the time and Peter looked round wonderingly. He +perceived immediately that there was an atmosphere about this French +restaurant unlike that of any he had been in before. He was, in truth, +utterly bewildered by what he saw, but he made an effort not to show it. +Julie, on the other hand, was fairly carried away. They seated themselves +at a table for four near the end of the partition, and she led the party +in gaiety. Donovan hardly took his eyes off her, and cut in with dry, +daring remarks with a natural case. Tommy played a good second to Julie, +and if she had had any fears they were not visible now. + +"What about an appetiser?" demanded Donovan. + +"Oh, rather! Mixed vermuth for me; but Tommy must have a very small one: +she gets drunk on nothing. Give me a cigarette now, padre; I'm dying to +smoke." + +Peter produced his case. "Don't call him 'padre' here," said Donovan; +"you'll spoil his enjoyment." + +"A cigarette, Solomon, then," whispered Julie, as the other turned to +beckon a _garcon_, flashing her eyes on him. + +Peter resisted no longer. "Don't," he said. "Call me anything but that." +It seemed to him that there was something inevitable in it all. He did +not formulate his sensations, but it was the lure of the contrast that +won him. Ever since he had landed in France he had, as it were, hung on +to the old conventional position, and he had felt increasingly that it +was impossible to do so. True, there seemed little connection between a +dinner with a couple of madcap girls in a French restaurant and religion, +but there was one. He had felt out of touch with men and life, and now a +new phase of it was offered him. He reached out for it eagerly. + +Julie leaned back and blew out a thin stream of smoke, her eyes daring +him, picking up the little glass as she did so. + +_"Here's to the girl with the little grey shoes,"_ she chanted merrily. + +"Don't Julie, for Heaven's sake!" pleaded Tommy. "He'll be shocked." + +"Oh, go on," said Peter; "what is it?" + +"Captain Donovan will finish," laughed Julie. + +"'Deed I can't, for I don't know it," he said. "Let's have it, little +girl; I'm sure it's a sporting toast." + +"_Who eats your grub and drinks your booze_," continued she. + +"Shut up, Julie," said Tommy, leaning over as if to snatch her glass. + +"_And then goes home to her mother to snooze_," called Julie +breathlessly, leaning back. + +"_I don't think_," ejaculated Donovan. + +Julie tipped down the drink. "You knew it all the time," she said. And +they all burst out laughing. + +Peter drank, and called for another, his eyes on Julie. He knew that he +could not sum her up, but he refused to believe that this was the secret +behind the eyes. She was too gay, too insolent. What Donovan thought he +could not say, but he almost hated him for the ease with which he kept +pace with their companions. + +They ordered dinner, and the great dish of _hors d'oeuvres_ was brought +round by a waiter who seemed to preside over it with a fatherly +solicitude. Julie picked up an olive in her fingers, and found it so good +that she grumbled at only having taken one. + +"Have mine," said Donovan, shooting one on to her plate. + +"Thanks," she said. "Oh, heavens! I forgot that patch on my left +cheek--or was it my right, Solomon? Let's see." + +She dived into her pocket, and produced a tiny satin beaded box, "Isn't +it chic?" she demanded, leaning over to show Donovan. "I got it in the +Nouvelles Galeries the other day." She took off the lid, which revealed +its reverse as a tiny mirror, and scrutinised herself, patting back a +stray lock on her forehead. + +"Oh, don't," said Donovan, and he slipped the hair out again with his +finger. + +"Be quiet; but I'll concede that. This won't do, though." Out came a tiny +powder-puff. "How's that?" she demanded, smiling up at him. + +"Perfect," he said. "But it's not fair to do that here." + +"Wait for the taxi then," she said. "Besides, it won't matter so much +then." + +"What won't matter?" demanded Peter. + +"Solomon, dear, you're as innocent as a new-born babe. Isn't he?" she +demanded of his friend. + +Donovan looked across at him. "Still waters run deep," he said. "I don't +know, but excuse me!" + +He had been sitting next Julie and opposite Miss Raynard, but he was now +on his feet and begging her to change places with him. She consented, +laughing, and did so, but Julie pretended to be furious. + +"I won't have it. You're a perfect beast, Tommy. Captain Donovan, I'll +never come out with you again. Solomon, come and sit here, and you, +Tommy, go over there." + +Peter hadn't an idea why, but he too got up. Tommy protested. "Look +here," she said, "I came for dinner, not for a dance. Oh, look out, +Captain Graham; you'll upset the cutlets!" Peter avoided the waiter by an +effort, but came on round her to the other side. + +"Get out of it, Tommy," said Julie, leaning over and pushing her. "I will +have a man beside me, anyhow." + +"I'd sooner be opposite," said Donovan. "I can see you better, and you +can't make eyes at the Frenchman at the other table quite so well if I +get my head in the way." + +"Oh, but he's such a dear," said Julie. "I'd love to flirt with him. Only +I must say his hair is a bit greasy." + +"You'll make his lady furious if you don't take care," said Donovan, "and +it's a shame to spoil her trade." + +Peter glanced across. A French officer, sitting opposite a painted girl, +was smiling at them. He looked at Julie; she was smiling back. + +"Julie, don't for Heaven's sake," said her half-section. "We shall have +him over here next, and you remember once before how awkward it was." + +Julie laughed. "Give me another drink, then, Captain Donovan," she said, +"and I'll be good." + +Donovan filled up her glass. She raised it and challenged him. "_Here's +to we two in Blighty_," she began. + +Miss Raynard rose determinedly and interrupted her. "Come on," she said; +"that's a bit too much, Julie. We must go, or we'll never get back, and +don't forget you've got to go on duty in the morning, my dear." She +pulled out a little watch. "Good heavens!" she cried. "Do you know the +time? It's eight-twenty now. We ought to have been in by eight, and +eighty-thirty is the latest time that's safe. For any sake, come on." + +Julie for once agreed. "Good Lord, yes," she said. "We must have a taxi. +Can we get one easily?" + +"Oh, I expect so," said Donovan. "Settle up, Graham, will you? while I +shepherd them out and get a car. Come on, and take care how you pass the +Frenchman." + +In a few minutes Peter joined them on the steps outside. The restaurant +was in the corner of a square which contained a small public garden, and +the three of them were waiting for him on the curb. A taxi stood by them. +The broad streets ran away to left and right, gay with lights and +passers-by, and the dark trees stood out against a starry sky. A group of +British officers went laughing by, and one of them recognised Donovan and +hailed him. Two spahis crossed out of the shade into the light, their red +and gold a picturesque splash of colour. Behind them glared the staring +pictures of the cinema show on a great hoarding by the wall. + +"Come on, Graham," called Donovan, "hop in." + +The four packed in closely, Peter and Tommy opposite the other two, Julie +farthest from Peter. They started, and he caught her profile as the +street lights shone in and out with the speed of their passing. She was +smoking, puffing quickly at her cigarette, and hardly silent a moment. + +"It's been a perfect treat," she said. "You're both dears, aren't they, +Tommy? You must come and have tea at the hospital any day: just walk in. +Mine's Ward 3. Come about four o'clock, and you'll find me any day this +week, Tommy's opposite. There's usually a crush at tea, but you must +come. By the way, where's your camp? Aren't you going heaps out of your +way? Solomon, where do you live? Tell me." + +Peter grinned in the dark, and told her. + +"Oh, you perfect beast!" she said, "Then you knew the Quai de France all +the time. Well, you're jolly near, anyway." "Oh, Lord!" she exclaimed +suddenly, "you aren't the new padre?" + +"I am," said Peter. + +"Good Lord! what a spree! Then you'll come in on duty. You can come in +any hour of the day or night. Tommy, do you hear that? Solomon's our +spiritual pastor. He's begun well, hasn't he?" + +Peter was silent. It jarred him horribly. But just then the car slowed +down. + +"What's up now?" demanded Donovan. + +"Only the sentry at the swing bridge," said Tommy. "They stop all cars at +night. He's your side, dear; give him the glad eye." + +The door opened, and a red-cap looked in. "Hospital, corporal; it's all +right," said Julie, beaming at him. + +"Oh, all right, miss. Good-night," said the man, stepping back and +saluting in the light of the big electric standard at the bridgehead. +"Carry on, driver!" + +"We're just there," said Julie; "I am sorry. It's been rippin'. Stop the +car, Solomon, somewhere near the leave-boat; it won't do to drive right +up to the hospital; we might be spotted." + +Peter leaned out of the window on his side. The lights on the quay glowed +steadily across the dark water, and made golden flicking streaks upon it +as the tide swelled slowly in. In the distance a great red eye flashed in +and out solemnly, and on their side he could see the shaded lights of the +hospital ship, getting ready for her night crossing. He judged it was +time, and told the man to stop. + +"Where's my powder-puff?" demanded Julie. "I believe you've bagged it, +Captain Donovan. No, it's here. Skip out, Tommy. Is anyone about?" + +"No," said the girl from the step. "But don't wait all night. We'd best +run for it." + +"Well, good-night," said Julie. "You have both been dears, but whether +I'm steady enough to get in safely I don't know. Still, Tommy's a rock. +See you again soon. Good-bye-ee!" + +She leaned forward. "_Now_, if you're good," she said to Donovan. He +kissed her, laughing; and before he knew what she was doing, she reached +over to Peter, kissed him twice on the lips, and leaped lightly out. "Be +good," she said, "and if you can't, be careful." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Following a delay of some days, there had been a fairly heavy mail, and +Peter took his letters to the little terrace by the sea outside the mess, +and sat in the sun to read them. While he was so occupied Arnold appeared +with a pipe, but, seeing him engaged, went back for a novel and a +deck-chair. It was all very peaceful and still, and beyond occasional +hammering from, the leisurely construction of the outer harbour wall and +once or twice the siren of a signalling steamer entering the docks, there +was nothing to disturb them at all. Perhaps half an hour passed, then +Peter folded up some sheets, put them in his pocket, and walked moodily +to the edge of the concrete, staring down, at the lazy slushing of the +tide against: the wall below him. + +He kicked a pebble discontentedly into the water, and turned to look, at +Arnold. The older man was stretched out: in his chair smoking a pipe and +regarding him. A slow smile passed between them. + +"No, hang it all," said Peter; "there's nothing to smile about, Arnold, +I've pretty well got to the end of my tether." + +"Meaning what exactly?" queried the other. + +"Oh, well, you know enough already to guess the rest.... Look here, +Arnold, you and. I are fairly good pals now, I'd just like to tell you +exactly what I feel." + +"Sit down then, man, and get it out. There's a chair yonder, and you've +got the forenoon before ye. I'm a heretic and all that sort of thing, of +course, but perhaps that'll make it easier. I take it it's a kind of +heretic you're becoming yourself." + +Peter pulled up a chair and got out his own pipe. "Arnold," he said, "I'm +too serious to joke, and I don't know that I'm even a Christian heretic. +I don't know what I am and where I stand. I wish I did; I wish I even +knew how much I disbelieved, for then I'd know what to do. But it's not +that my dogmas have been attacked and weakened. I've no new light on the +Apostles' Creed and no fresh doubts about it. I could still argue for the +Virgin Birth of Christ and the Trinity, and so on. But it's worse than +that. I feel ..." He broke off abruptly and pulled at his pipe. The other +said nothing. They were friends enough by now to understand each other. +In a little while the younger man found the words he wanted. + +"Look here, it's like this. I remember once, on the East Coast, coming +across a stone breakwater high and dry in a field half a mile from the +sea. There was nothing the matter with the breakwater, and it served +admirably for certain purposes--a seat, for instance, or a shady place +for a picnic. But it was no longer of any vital use in the world, for the +sea had receded and left it there. Now, that's just what I feel. I had a +religion; I suppose it had its weaknesses and its faults; but most of it +was good sound stone, and it certainly had served. But it serves no +longer, not because it's damaged, but because the need for it has changed +its nature or is no longer there." He trailed off into silence and +stopped. + +Arnold stirred to get out his pouch. "The sea is shifty, though," he +said. "If they keep the breakwater in decent repair, it'll come in handy +again." + +"Yes," burst out Peter. "But, of course, that's where illustrations are +so little good: you can't press them. And in any case no engineer worth +his salt would sit down by his breakwater and smoke a pipe till the sea +came in handy again. His job is to go after it." + +"True for ye, boy. But if the old plan was so good, why not go down to +the beach and get on with building operations of the same sort?" + +"Arnold," said Peter, "you couldn't have put it better. That's exactly +what I came here to do. I knew in London that the sea was receding to +some extent, and I thought that there was a jolly good chance to get up +with it again out here. But that leads straight to my second problem: +I can't build on the old plan, and it doesn't seem any good. It's as +if our engineer found quicksands that wouldn't hold his stone, and +cross-currents that smashed up all his piles.... I mean, I thought I knew +what would save souls. But I find that I can't because my methods are--I +don't know, faulty perhaps, out of date maybe possibly worse; and, what +is more, the souls don't want my saving. The Lord knows they want +something; I can see that fast enough, but what it is I don't know. +Heavens! I remember preaching in the beginning of the war from the text +'Jesus had compassion on the multitude.' Well I don't feel that He has +changed, and I'm quite sure He still has compassion, but the multitude +doesn't want it. I was wrong about the crowd. It's nothing like what I +imagined. The crowd isn't interested in Jesus any more. It doesn't +believe in Him. It's a different sort of crowd altogether from the one He +led." + +"I wonder," said Arnold. + +Peter moved impatiently. "Well, I don't see how you can," he said. "Do +you think Tommy worries about his sins? Are the men in our mess +miserable? Does the girl the good books talked about, who flirts and +smokes and drinks and laughs, sit down by night on the edge of her little +white bed and feel a blank in her life? Does she, Arnold?" + +"I'm blest if I know; I haven't been there! You seem to know a precious +lot about it," he added dryly. + +"Oh, don't rag and don't be facetious. If you do, I shall clear. I'm +trying to talk sense, and at any rate it's what I feel. And I believe you +know I'm right too." Peter was plainly a bit annoyed. + +The elder padre sat up straight at that, and his tone changed. He stared +thoughtfully out to sea and did not smoke. But he did not speak all at +once. Peter glanced at him, and then lay back in his chair and waited. + +Arnold spoke at last: possibly the harbour works inspired him. "Look +here, boy," he said, "let's get back to your illustration, which is no +such a bad one. What do you suppose your engineer would do when he got +down to the new sea-beach and found the conditions you described? It +wouldn't do much good if he sat down and cursed the blessed sea and the +sands and the currents, would it? It would be mighty little use if he +blamed his good stone and sound timber, useless though they appeared. +I'm thinking he'd be no much of an engineer either if he chucked his +job. What would he do, d'you think?" + +"Go on," said Peter, interested. + +"Well," said the speaker in parables, "unless I'm mighty mistaken, he'd +get down first to studying the new conditions. He'd find they'd got laws +governing them, same as the old--different laws maybe, but things you +could perhaps reckon with if you knew them. And when he knew them, I +reckon he'd have a look at his timber and stone and iron, and get out +plans. Maybe, these days, he'd help out with a few tons of reinforced +concrete, and get in a bit o' work with some high explosive. I'm no +saying. But if he came from north of the Tweed, my lad," he added, with a +twinkle in his eye and a touch of accent, "I should be verra surprised +if that foreshore hadn't a breakwater that would do its duty in none so +long a while." + +"And if he came from south of the Tweed, and found himself in France?" +queried Peter. + +"I reckon he'd get down among the multitude and make a few inquiries," +said Arnold, more gravely. "I reckon he wouldn't be in too great a hurry, +and he wouldn't believe all he saw and heard without chewing on it a bit, +as our Yankee friends say. And he'd know well enough that there was +nothing wrong with his Master, and no change in His compassion, only, +maybe, that he had perhaps misunderstood both a little." + +A big steamer hooted as she came up the river, and the echoes of the +siren died out slowly among the houses that climbed up the hill behind +them. + +Then Peter put his hand up and rested his head upon it, shading his face. + +"That's difficult--and dangerous, Arnold" he said. + +"It is that, laddie," the other answered quickly. "There was a time when +I would have thought it too difficult and too dangerous for a boy of +mine. But I've had a lesson or two to learn out here as well as other +folks. Up the line men have learnt not to hesitate at things because they +are difficult and dangerous. And I'll tell you something else we've +learnt--that it is better for half a million to fail in the trying than +for the thing not to be tried at all." + +"Arnold," said Peter, "what about yourself? Do you mind my asking? Do you +feel this sort of thing at all, and, if so, what's your solution?" + +The padre from north of the Tweed knocked the ashes out of his pipe and +got up, "Young man," he said, "I don't mind your asking, but I'm getting +old, and my answering wouldn't do either of us any good, if I have a +solution I don't suppose it would be yours. Besides, a man can't save his +brother, and not even a father can save his son .... I've nothing to tell +ye, except, maybe, this: don't fear and don't falter, and wherever you +get to, remember that God is there. David is out of date these days, +and very likely it wasn't David at all, but I don't know anything truer +in the auld book than yon verse where it says: 'Though I go down into +hell, Thou art there also.'" + +"I beg your pardon, padre," said a drawling voice behind them. "I caught +a word just now which I understand no decent clergyman uses except in the +pulpit. If, therefore, you are preaching, I will at once and discreetly +withdraw, but if not, for his very morals' sake, I will withdraw your +congregation--that is, if he hasn't forgotten his engagement." + +Graham jumped up. "Good Heavens, Pennell!" he exclaimed, "I'm blest if I +hadn't." He pushed his arm out and glanced at his watch. "Oh, there's +plenty of time, anyway. I'm lunching with this blighter down town, padre, +at some special restaurant of his," he explained, "and I take it the sum +and substance of his unseemly remarks are that he thinks we ought to get +a move on." + +"Don't let me stand in the way of your youthful pleasures," said Arnold, +smiling; "but take care of yourself, Graham. Eat and drink, for to-morrow +you die; but don't eat and drink too much in case you live to the day +after." + +"I'll remember," said Peter, "but I hope it won't be necessary. However, +you never know 'among the multitude,' do you?" he added. + +Arnold caught up the light chair and lunged out at him. "Ye unseemly +creature," he shouted, "get out of it and leave me in peace." + +Pennell and Peter left the camp and crossed the swing bridge into the +maze of docks. Threading their way along as men who knew it thoroughly +they came at length to the main roadway, with its small, rather smelly +shops, its narrow side-streets almost like Edinburgh closes, and its +succession of sheds and offices between which one glimpsed the water. +Just here, the war had made a difference. There was less pleasure traffic +up Seine and along Channel, though the Southampton packet ran as +regularly as if no submarine had ever been built. Peter liked Pennell. +He was an observant creature of considerable decencies, and a good +companion. He professed some religion, and although it was neither +profound nor apparently particularly vital, it helped to link the two +men. As they went on, the shops grew a little better, but no restaurant +was visible that offered much expectation. + +"Where in the world are you taking me?" demanded Peter. "I don't mind +slums in the way of business, but I prefer not to go to lunch in them." + +"Wait and see, my boy," returned his companion, "and don't protest till +it's called for. Even then wait a bit longer, and your sorrow shall be +turned into joy--and that's Scripture. Great Scott! see what comes of +fraternising with padres! _Now._" + +So saying he dived in to the right down a dark passage, into which the +amazed Peter followed him. He had already opened a door at the end of it +by the time Peter got there, and was halfway up a flight of wood stairs +that curved up in front of them out of what was, obviously, a kitchen. +A huge man turned his head as Peter came in, and surveyed him silently, +his hands dexterously shaking a frying-pan over a fire as he did so. + +"Bon jour, monsieur," said Peter politely. + +Monsieur grunted, but not unpleasantly, and Peter gripped the banister +and commenced to ascend. Half-way up he was nearly sent flying down +again. A rosy-cheeked girl, short and dark, with sparkling eyes, had +thrust herself down between him and the rail from a little landing above, +and was shouting: + +"Une omelette aux champignons. Jambon. Pommes sautes, s'il vous plait." + +Peter recovered himself and smiled. "Bon jour, mademoiselle," he said, +this time. In point of fact, he could say very little else. + +"Bon jour, monsieur," said, the girl, and something else that he could +not catch, but by this time he had reached the top in time to witness a +little 'business' there. A second girl, taller, older, slower, but +equally smiling, was taking Pennell's cap and stick and gloves, making +play with her eyes the while. "Merci, cherie," he heard his friend say +and then, in a totally different voice: "Ah! Bon jour Marie." + +A third girl was before them. In her presence the other two withdrew. She +was tall, plain, shrewd of face, with reddish hair, but she smiled even +as the others. It was little more than a glance that Peter got, for she +called an order (at which the first girl again disappeared down the +stairs) greeted Pennell, replied to his question that there were two +places, and was out of sight again in the room, seemingly all at once. He +too, then, surrendered cap and stick, and followed his companion in. + +There were no more than four tables in the little room--two for six, and +two for four or five. Most were filled, but he and Pennell secured two +seats with their backs to the wall opposite a couple of Australian +officers who had apparently just commenced. Peter's was by the window, +and he glanced out to see the sunlit street below, the wide sparkling +harbour, and right opposite the hospital he had now visited several times +and his own camp near it. There was the new green of spring shoots in the +window-boxes, snowy linen on the table, a cheerful hum of conversation +about him, and an oak-panelled wall behind that had seen the Revolution. + +"Pennell," he said, "you're a marvel. The place is perfect." + +By the time they had finished Peter was feeling warmed and friendly, the +Australians had been joined to their company, and the four spent an idle +afternoon cheerfully enough. There was nothing in strolling through the +busy streets, joking a little over very French picture post-cards, +quizzing the passing girls, standing in a queue at Cox's, and finally +drawing a fiver in mixed French notes, or in wandering through a huge +shop of many departments to buy some toilet necessities. But it was good +fun. There was a comradeship, a youthfulness, carelessness, about it all +that gripped Peter. He let himself go, and when he did so he was a good +companion. + +One little incident in the Grand Magasin completed his abandonment to the +day and the hour. They were ostensibly buying a shaving-stick, but at the +moment were cheerily wandering through the department devoted to +_lingerie_. The attendant girls, entirely at ease, were trying to +persuade the taller of the two Australians, whom his friend addressed +as "Alex," to buy a flimsy lace nightdress "for his fiancee," readily +pointing out that he would find no difficulty in getting rid of it +elsewhere if he had not got such a desirable possession, when Peter heard +an exclamation behind him. + +"Hullo!" said a girl's voice; "fancy finding you here!" He turned quickly +and blushed. Julie laughed merrily. + +"Caught out," she said, "Tell me what you're buying, and for whom. A +blouse, a camisole, or worse?" + +"I'm not buying," said Peter, recovering his ease. "We're just strolling +round, and that girl insists that my friend the Australian yonder should +buy a nightie for his fiancee. He says he hasn't one, so she is +persuading him that he can easily pick one up. What do you think?" + +She glanced over at the little group. "Easier than some people I know, +I should think," she said, smiling, taking in his six feet of bronzed +manhood. "But it's no use your buying it. I wear pyjamas, silk, and I +prefer Venns'." + +"I'll remember," said Peter. "By the way, I'm coming to tea again +to-morrow." + +"That will make three times this week," she said. "But I suppose you +will go round the ward first." Then quickly, for Peter looked slightly +unhappy: "Next week I've a whole day off." + +"No?" he said eagerly "Oh, do let's fix something up. Will you come out +somewhere?" + +Her eyes roved across to Pennell, who was bearing down upon them. "We'll +fix it up to-morrow," she said. "Bring Donovan, and I'll get Tommy. And +now introduce me nicely." + +He did so, and she talked for a few minutes, and then went off to join +some friends, who had moved on to another department. "By Jove," said +Pennell, "that's some girl! I see now why you are so keen on the +hospital, old dear. Wish I were a padre." + +"I shall be padre in ..." began Alex, but Peter cut him short. + +"Oh, Lord," he said, "I'm tired of that! Come on out of it, and let's get +a refresher somewhere. What's the club like here?" + +"Club's no good," said Pennell. "Let's go to Travalini's and introduce +the padre. He's not been there yet." + +"I thought everyone knew it," said the other Australian--rather +contemptuously, Peter thought. What with one thing and another, he felt +suddenly that he'd like to go. He remembered how nearly he had gone there +in other company. "Come on, then," he said, and led the way out. + +There was nothing in Travalini's to distinguish it from many other such +places--indeed, to distinguish it from the restaurant in which Peter, +Donovan, and the girls had dined ten days or so before, except that it +was bigger, more garish, more expensive, and, consequently, more British +in patronage. The restaurant was, however, separated more completely +from the drinking-lounge, in which, among palms, a string-band played. +There was an hotel above besides, and that helped business, but one could +come and go innocently enough, for all that there was "anything a +gentleman wants," as the headwaiter, who talked English, called himself a +Belgian, and had probably migrated from over the Rhine, said. Everybody, +indeed, visited the place now and again. Peter and his friends went in +between the evergreen shrubs in their pots, and through the great glass +swing-door, with every assurance. The place seemed fairly full. There was +a subdued hum of talk and clink of glasses; waiters hurried to and fro; +the band was tuning up. British uniforms predominated, but there were +many foreign officers and a few civilians. There were perhaps a couple of +dozen girls scattered about the place besides. + +The friends found a corner with a big plush couch which took three of +them, and a chair for Alex. A waiter bustled up and they ordered drinks, +which came on little saucers marked with the price. Peter lay back +luxuriously. + +"Chin-chin," said the other Australian, and the others responded. + +"That's good," said Pennell. + +"Not so many girls here this afternoon," remarked Alex carelessly. "See, +Dick, there's that little Levantine with the thick dark hair. She's +caught somebody." + +Peter looked across in the direction indicated. The girl, in a cerise +costume with a big black hat, short skirt, and dainty bag, was sitting in +a chair halfway on to them and leaning over the table before her. As he +watched, she threw her head back and laughed softly. He caught the gleam +of a white throat and of dark sloe eyes. + +"She's a pretty one," said Pennell. "God! but they're queer little bits +of fluff, these girls. It beats me how they're always gay, and always +easy to get and to leave. And they get rottenly treated sometimes." + +"Yes I'm damned if I understand them," said Alex. "Now, padre, I'll tell +you something that's more in your way than mine, and you can see what you +make of it. I was in a maison toleree the other day--you know the sort +of thing--and there were half a dozen of us in the sitting-room with the +girls, drinking fizz. I had a little bit of a thing with fair hair--she +couldn't have been more than seventeen at most, I reckon--with a laugh +that did you good to hear, and, by gum! we wanted to be cheered just +then, for we had had a bit of a gruelling on the Ancre and had been +pulled out of the line to refit. She sat there with an angel's face, a +chemise transparent except where it was embroidered, and not much else, +and some of the women were fair beasts. Well, she moved on my knee, and I +spilt some champagne and swore--'Jesus Christ!' I said. Do you know, she +pushed back from me as if I had hit her! 'Oh, don't say His Name!' she +said. 'Promise me you won't say it again. Do you not know how He loved +us?' I was so taken aback that I promised, and to tell you the truth, +padre, I haven't said it since. What do you think of that?" + +Peter shook his head and drained his glass. He couldn't have spoken at +once; the little story, told in such a place, struck him so much. Then he +asked: "But is that all? How did she come to be there?" + +"Well," Alex said, "that's just as strange. Father was in a French +cavalry regiment, and got knocked out on the Marne. They lived in Arras +before the war, and you can guess that there wasn't much left of the +home. One much older sister was a widow with a big family; the other was +a kid of ten or eleven, so this one went into the business to keep the +family going. Fact. The mother used to come and see her, and I got to +know her. She didn't seem to mind: said the doctors looked after them +well, and the girl was making good money. Hullo!" he broke off, "there's +Louise," and to Peter's horror he half-rose and smiled across at a girl +some few tables away. + +She got up and came over, beamed on them all, and took the seat Alex +vacated. "Good-evening," she said, in fair English, scrutinising them. +"What is it you say, 'How's things'?" + +Alex pressed a drink on her and beckoned the waiter. She took a syrup, +the rest martinis. Peter sipped his, and watched her talking to Alex and +Pennell. The other Australian got up and crossed the room, and sat down +with some other men. + +The stories he had heard moved him profoundly. He wondered if they were +true, but he seemed to see confirmation in the girl before him. Despite +some making up, it was a clean face, if one could say so. She was +laughing and talking with all the ease in the world, though Peter noticed +that her eyes kept straying round the room. Apparently his friends had +all her attention, but he could see it was not so. She was on the watch +for clients, old or new. He thought how such a girl would have disgusted +him a few short weeks ago, but he did not feel disgusted now. He could +not. He did not know what he felt. He wondered, as he looked, if she were +one of "the multitude," and then the fragment of a text slipped through +his brain: "The Friend of publicans and sinners." "_The_ Friend": the +little adjective struck him as never before. Had they ever had another? +He frowned to himself at the thought, and could not help wondering +vaguely what his Vicar or the Canon would have done in Travalini's. Then +he wondered instantly what that Other would have done, and he found no +answer at all. + +"Yes, but I do not know your friend yet," he heard the girl say, and saw +she was being introduced to Pennell. She held out a decently gloved hand +with a gesture that startled him--it was so like Hilda's. Hilda! The +comparison dazed him. He fancied he could see her utter disgust, and then +he involuntarily shook his head; it would be too great for him to +imagine. What would she have made of the story he had just heard? He +concluded she would flatly disbelieve it.... + +But Julie? He smiled to himself, and then, for the first time, suddenly +asked himself what he really felt towards Julie. He remembered that first +night and the kiss, and how he had half hated it, half liked it. He felt +now, chiefly, anger that Donovan had had one too. One? But he, Peter, +had had two.... Then he called himself a damned fool; it was all of a +piece with her extravagant and utterly unconventional madness. But what, +then, would she say to this? Had she anything in common with it? + +He played with that awhile, blowing out thoughtful rings of smoke. It +struck him that she had, but he was fully aware that that did not +disgust him in the least. It almost fascinated him, just as--that _was_ +it--Hilda's disgust would repel him. Why? He hadn't an idea. + +"Monsieur le Capitaine is very dull," said a girl's voice at his elbow. +He started: Louise had moved to the sofa and was smiling at him. He +glanced towards his companions, Alex was standing, finishing a last +drink; Pennell staring at Louise. + +He looked back at the girl, straight into her eyes, and could not read +them in the least. The darkened eyebrows and the glitter in them baffled +him. But he must speak, "Am I?" he said. "Forgive me, mademoiselle; I was +thinking." + +"Of your fiancee--is it not so? Ah! The Capitaine has his fiancee, then? +In England? Ah, well, the girls in England do not suffer like we girls in +France.... They are proud, too, the English misses. I know, for I have +been there, to--how do you call it?--Folkestone. They walk with the head +in the air," and she tilted up her chin so comically that Peter smiled +involuntarily. + +"No, I do not like them," went on the girl deliberately. "They are +only half alive, I think. I almost wish the Boche had been in your +land.... They are cold, la! And not so very nice to kiss, eh?" + +"They're not all like that," said Pennell. + +"Ah, non? But you like the girls of France the best, mon ami; is it not +so?" She leaned across towards him significantly. + +Pennell laughed. "_Now_, yes, perhaps," he said deliberately; "but after +the war ..." and he shrugged his shoulders, like a Frenchman. + +A shade passed over the girl's face, and she got up. "It is so," she +said lightly. "Monsieur speaks very true--oh, very true! The girls of +France now--they are gay, they are alive, they smile, and it is war, and +you men want these things. But after--oh, I know you English--you'll go +home and be--how do you say?--'respectable,' and marry an English miss, +and have--oh! many, many bebes, and wear the top-hat, and go to church. +There is no country like England...." She made a little gesture. "What do +you believe, you English? In le bon Dieu? Non. In love? Ah, non! In what, +then? Je ne sais!" She laughed again. "What 'ave I said? Forgive me, +monsieur, and you also, Monsieur le Capitaine. But I do see a friend of +mine. See, I go! Bon soir." + +She looked deliberately at Peter a moment, then smiled comprehensively +and left them. Peter saw that Alex had gone already; he asked no +questions, but looked at Pennell inquiringly. + +"I think so, padre; I've had enough of it to-night. Let's clear. We can +get back in time for mess." + +They went out into the darkening streets, crossed an open square, and +turned down a busy road to the docks. They walked quickly, but Peter +seemed to himself conscious of everyone that passed. He scanned faces, +as if to read a riddle in them. There were men who lounged by, gay, +reckless, out for fun plainly, but without any other sinister thought, +apparently. There were Tommies who saluted and trudged on heavily. There +were a couple of Yorkshire boys who did not notice them, flushed, animal, +making determinedly for a destination down the street. There was one man +at least who passed walking alone, with a tense, greedy, hard face, and +Peter all but shuddered. + +The lit shops gave way to a railed space, dark by contrast, and a tall +building of old blackened stone, here and there chipped white, loomed up. +Moved by an impulse, Peter paused, "Let's see if it's open, Pennell," he +said. "Do you mind? I won't be a second." + +"Not a scrap, old man," said Pennell, "I'll come in too." + +Peter walked up to a padded leather-covered door and pushed. It swung +open. They stepped in, into a faintly broken silence, and stood still. + +Objects loomed up indistinctly--great columns, altars, pews. Far away a +light flickered and twinkled, and from the top of the aisle across the +church from the door by which they had entered a radiance glowed and lost +itself in the black spaces of the high roof and wide nave. Peter crossed +towards that side, and his companion followed. They trod softly, like +good Englishmen in church, and they moved up the aisle a little to see +more clearly; and so, having reached a place from which much was visible, +remained standing for a few seconds. + +The light streamed from an altar, and from candles above it set around +a figure of the Mother of God. In front knelt a priest, and behind him, +straggling back in the pews, a score or so of women, some children, and +a blue-coated French soldier or two. The priest's voice sounded thin +and low: neither could hear what he said; the congregation made rapid +responses regularly, but eliding the, to them, familiar words. There was, +then, the murmur of repeated prayer, like muffled knocking on a door, and +nothing more. + +"Let's go," whispered Pennell at last. + +They went out, and shut the door softly behind them. As they did so, some +other door was opened noisily and banged, while footsteps began to drag +slowly across the stone floor and up the aisle they had come down. The +new-comer subsided into a pew with a clatter on the boards, but the +murmured prayers went on unbroken. + +Outside the street engulfed them. The same faces passed by. A street-car +banged and clattered up towards the centre of the town, packed with +jovial people. Pennell looked towards it half longingly. "Great Scott, +Graham! I wish, now, we hadn't come away so soon," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The lower valley of the Seine is one of the most beautiful and +interesting river-stretches in Northern Europe. It was the High Street of +old Normandy, and feuda, barons and medieval monks have left their mark +upon it. From the castle of Tancarville to the abbey of Jumieges +you can read the story of their doings; or when you stand in the Roman +circus at Lillebonne, or enter the ancient cloister of M. Maeterlinck's +modern residence at St. Wandrille, see plainly enough the writing of a +still older legend, such as appeared, once, on the wall of a palace in +Babylon. On the left bank steep hills, originally wholly clothed with +forest and still thickly wooded, run down to the river with few breaks +in them, each break, however, being garrisoned by an ancient town. Of +these, Caudebec stands unrivalled. On the right bank the flat plain of +Normandy stretches to the sky-line, pink-and-white in spring with miles +of apple-orchards. The white clouds chase across its fair blue sky, +driven by the winds from the sea, and tall poplars rise in their uniform +rows along the river as if to guard a Paradise. + +Caudebec can be reached from Le Havre in a few hours, and although cars +for hire and petrol were not abundant in France at the time, one could +find a chauffeur to make the journey if one was prepared to pay. Given +fine weather, it was an ideal place for a day off in the spring. And +Peter knew it. + +In the Grand Magasin Julie had talked of a day off, and a party of four +had been mooted, but when he had leisure to think of it, Peter found +himself averse to four, and particularly if one of the four were to be +Donovan. He admitted it freely to himself. Donovan was the kind of a +man, he thought, that Julie must like, and he was the kind of man, too, +to put him, Peter, into the shade. Ordinarily he asked for no better +companion, but he hated to see Julie and Jack together. He could not make +the girl out, and he wanted to do so. He wanted to know what she thought +about many things, and--incidentally, of course--what she thought about +him. + +He had argued all this over next morning while shaving, and had ended +by cutting himself. It was a slight matter, but it argued a certain +absent-mindedness, and it brought him back to decency. He perceived that +he was scheming to leave his friend out, and he fought resolutely against +the idea. Therefore, that afternoon, he went to the hospital, spent a +couple of hours chatting with the men, and finally wound up in the +nurses' mess-room for tea as usual. It was a little room, long and +narrow, at the end of the biggest ward, but its windows looked over the +sea and it was convenient to the kitchen. Coloured illustrations cut from +magazines and neatly mounted on brown paper decorated the walls, but +there was little else by way of furniture or ornament except a long table +and chairs. One could get but little talk except of a scrappy kind, for +nurses came continually in and out for tea, and, indeed, Julie had only a +quarter of an hour to spare. But he got things fixed up for the following +Thursday, and he left the place to settle with Donovan. + +That gentleman's company of native labour was lodged a mile or so through +the docks from Peter's camp, on the banks of the Tancarville Canal. It +was enlivened at frequent intervals, day and night, by the sirens of +tugs bringing strings of barges to the docks, whence their cargo was +borne overseas in the sea-going tramps, or, of course, taking equally +long strings to the Seine for Rouen and Paris. It was mud and cinders +underfoot, and it was walled off with corrugated-iron sheeting and +barbed wire from the attentions of some hundreds of Belgian refugees who +lived along the canal and parallel roads in every conceivable kind of +resting-place, from ancient bathing-vans to broken-down railway-trucks. +But there were trees along the canal and reeds and grass, so that there +were worse places than Donovan's camp in Le Havre. + +Peter found his friend surveying the endeavours of a gang of boys to +construct a raised causeway from the officers' mess to the orderly-room, +and he promptly broached his object. Donovan was entranced with the +proposal, but he could not go. He was adamant upon it. He could possibly +have got off, but it meant leaving his something camp for a whole day, +and just at present he couldn't. Peter could get Pennell or anyone. +Another time, perhaps, but not now. For thus can the devil trap his +victims. + +Peter pushed back for home on his bicycle, but stopped at the docks on +his way to look up Pennell. That gentleman was bored, weary, and inclined +to be blasphemous. It appeared that for the whole, infernal day he had +had to watch the off-loading of motor-spares, that he had had no lunch, +and that he could not get away for a day next week if he tried. "It isn't +everyone can get a day off whenever he wants to, padre," he said. "In the +next war I shall be ..." Peter turned hard on his heel, and left him +complaining to the derricks. + +He was now all but cornered. There was nobody else he particularly cared +to ask unless it were Arnold, and he could not imagine Arnold and Julie +together. It appeared to him that fate was on his side; it only remained +to persuade Julie to come alone. He pedalled back to mess and dinner, and +then, about half-past eight, strolled round to the hospital again. It was +late, of course, but he was a padre, and the hospital padre, and +privileged. He knew exactly what to do, and that he was really as safe as +houses in doing it, and yet this intriguing by night made him +uncomfortable still. He told himself he was an ass to think so, but he +could not get rid of the sensation. + +Julie would be on duty till 9.30, and he could easily have a couple +of minutes' conversation with her in the ward. He followed the +railway-track, then, along the harbour, and went in under the great roof +of the empty station. On the far platform a hospital train was being made +ready for its return run, but, except for a few cleaners and orderlies, +the place was empty. + +An iron stairway led up from the platform to the wards above. He +ascended, and found himself on a landing with the door of the theatre +open before him. There was a light in it, and he caught the sound of +water; some pro. was cleaning up. He moved down the passage and +cautiously opened the door of the ward. + +It was shaded and still. Somewhere a man breathed heavily, and another +turned in his sleep. Just beyond the red glow of the stove, with the +empty armchairs in a circle before it, were screens from which came a +subdued light. He walked softly between the beds towards them, and looked +over the top. + +Inside was a little sanctum: a desk with a shaded reading-lamp, a chair, +a couch, a little table with flowers upon it and a glass and jug, and on +the floor by the couch a work-basket. Julie was at the desk writing in a +big official book, and he watched her for a moment unobserved. It was +almost as if he saw a different person from the girl he knew. She was at +work, and a certain hidden sadness showed clearly in her face. But the +little brown fringe of hair on her forehead and the dimpled chin were the +same.... + +"Good-evening," he whispered. + +She looked up quickly, with a start, and he noticed curiously how rapidly +the laughter came back to her face. "You did startle me, Solomon," she +said. "What is it?" + +"I want to speak to you a minute about Thursday," he said. "Can I come +in?" + +She got up and came round the screens. "Follow me," she said, "and don't +make a noise." + +She led him across the ward to the wide verandah, opening the door +carefully and leaving it open behind her, and then walked to the +balustrade and glanced down. The hospital ship had gone, and there was +no one visible on the wharf. The stars were hidden, and there was a +suggestion of mist on the harbour, through which the distant lights +seemed to flicker. + +"You're coming on, Solomon," she said mockingly. "Never tell me you'd +have dared to call on the hospital to see a nurse by night a few weeks +ago! Suppose matron came round? There is no dangerous case in my ward." + +"Not among the men, perhaps," said Peter mischievously. "But, look here, +about Thursday; Donovan can't go, nor Pennell, and I don't know anyone +else I want to ask." + +"Well, I'll see if I can raise a man. One or two of the doctors are +fairly decent, or I can get a convalescent out of the officers' +hospital." + +She had the lights behind her, and he could not see her face, but he knew +she was laughing at him, and it spurred him on. "Don't rag, Julie," he +said, "You know I want you to come alone." + +There was a perceptible pause. Then: "I can't cut Tommy," she said. + +"Not for once?" he urged. She turned away from him and looked down at the +water. It is curious how there come moments of apprehension in all our +lives when we want a thing, but know quite well we are mad to want it. +Julie looked into the future for a few seconds, and saw plainly, but +would not believe what she saw. + +When she turned back she had her old manner completely. "You're a dear +old thing," she said, "and I'll do it. But if it gets out that I gadded +about for a day with an officer, even though he is a padre, and that we +went miles out of town, there'll be some row, my boy. Quick now! I must +get back. What's the plan?" + +"Thanks awfully," said Peter. "It will be a rag. What time can you get +off?" + +"Oh, after breakfast easily--say eight-thirty." + +"Right. Well, take the tram-car to Harfleur--you know?--as far as it +goes. I'll be at the terminus with a car. What time must you be in?" + +"I can get late leave till ten, I think," she said. + +"Good! That gives us heaps of time. We'll lunch and tea in Caudebec, and +have some sandwiches for the road home." + +"And if the car breaks down?" + +"It won't," said Peter. "You're lucky in love, aren't you?" + +She did not laugh. "I don't know," she said. "Good-night." + +And then Peter had walked home, thinking of Hilda. And he had sat by the +sea, and come to the conclusion that he was a rotter, but in the web of +Fate and much to be pitied, which is like a man. And then he had played +auction till midnight and lost ten francs, and gone to bed concluding +that he was certainly unlucky--at cards. + +As Peter sat in his car at the Harfleur terminus that Thursday it must be +confessed that he was largely indifferent to the beauties of the Seine +Valley that he had professedly come to see. He was nervous, to begin +with, lest he should be recognised by anyone, and he was in one of his +troubled moods. But he had not long to wait. The tram came out, and he +threw away his cigarette and walked to meet the passengers. + +Julie looked very smart in the grey with its touch of scarlet, but she +was discontented with it. "If only I could put on a few glad rags," she +said as she climbed into the car, "this would be perfect. You men can't +know how a girl comes to hate uniform. It's not bad occasionally, but if +you have to wear it always it spoils chances. But I've got my new shoes +and silk stockings on," she added, sticking out a neat ankle, "and my +skirt is not vastly long, is it? Besides, underneath, if it's any +consolation to you, I've really pretty things. Uniform or not, I see no +reason why one should not feel joyful next the skin. What do you think?" + +Peter agreed heartily, and tucked a rug round her. "There's the more need +for this, then," he said. + +"Oh, I don't know: silk always makes me feel so comfortable that I can't +be cold. Isn't it a heavenly day? We are lucky, you know; it might have +been beastly. Lor', but I'm going to enjoy myself to-day, my dear! I warn +you. I've got to forget how Tommy looked when I put her off with excuses. +I felt positively mean." + +"What did she say?" asked Peter. + +"That she didn't mind at all, as she had got to write letters," said +Julie, "Solomon, Tommy's a damned good sort!... Give us a cigarette, and +don't look blue. We're right out of town." + +Peter got out his case. "Don't call me Solomon to-day," he said. + +Julie threw herself back in her corner and shrieked with laughter. The +French chauffeur glanced round and grimaced appreciatively, and Peter +felt a fool. "What am I to call you, then?" she demanded. "You are a +funny old thing, and now you look more of a Solomon than ever." + +"Call me Peter," he said. + +She looked at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm really +beginning to enjoy myself," she said. "But, look here, you mustn't begin +like this. How in the world do you think we shall end up if you do? +You'll have nothing left to say, and I shall be worn to a rag and a +temper warding off your sentimentality." + +"Julie," said Peter, "are you ever serious? I can't help it, you know, I +suppose because I am a parson, though I am such a rotten one." + +"Who says you're a rotten one?" + +"Everybody who tells the truth, and, besides, I know it. I feel an +absolute stummer when I go around the wards. I never can say a word to +the men." + +"They like you awfully. You know little Jimmy, that kiddie who came in +the other day who's always such a brick? Well, last night I went and sat +with him a bit because he was in such pain. I told him where I was going +to-day as a secret. What do you think he said about you?" + +"I don't want to know," said Peter hastily. + +"Well, you shall. He said if more parsons were like you, more men would +go to church. What do you make of that, old Solomon?" + +"It isn't true to start with. A few might come for a little, but they +would soon fall off. And if they didn't, they'd get no good. I don't know +what to say to them." + +Julie threw away her cigarette-stump. "One sees a lot of human nature in +hospitals, my boy," she said, "and it doesn't leave one with many +illusions. But from what I've seen, I should say nobody does much good by +talking." + +"You don't understand," said Peter. "Look here, I shouldn't call you +religious in a way at all Don't be angry. I don't _know_, but I don't +think so, and I don't think you can possibly know what I mean." + +"I used to do the flowers in church regularly at home," she said. "I +believe in God, though you think I don't." + +Peter sighed. "Let's change the subject," he said. "Have you seen any +more of that Australian chap lately?" + +"Rather! He's engaged to a girl I know, and I reckon I'm doing her a good +turn by sticking to him. He's a bit of a devil, you know, but I think I +can keep him off the French girls a bit." + +Peter looked at her curiously. "You know what he is, and you don't mind +then?" he said. + +"Good Lord, no!" she replied. "My dear boy, I know what men are. It isn't +in their nature to stick to one girl only. He loves Edie all right, and +he'll make her a good husband one day, if she isn't too particular and +inquisitive. If I were married, I'd give my husband absolute liberty--and +I'd expect it in return. But I shall never marry. There isn't a man who +can play fair. They'll take their own pleasures, but they are all as +jealous as possible. I've seen it hundreds of times." + +"You amaze me," said Peter. "Let's talk straight. Do you mean to say that +if you were married and your husband ran up to Paris for a fortnight, and +you knew exactly what he'd gone for, you wouldn't mind?" + +"No," she declared roundly. "I wouldn't. He'd come back all the more fond +of me, I'd know I'd be a fool to expect anything else." + +Peter stared at her. She was unlike anything he had ever seen. Her moral +standards, if she had any, he added mentally, were so different from his +own that he was absolutely floored. He thought grimly that alone in a +motor-car he had got among the multitude with a vengeance. "Have you +ever been in love?" he demanded. + +She laughed. "Solomon, you're the quaintest creature. Do you think I'd +tell you if I had been? You never ought to ask anyone that. But if you +want to know, I've been in love hundreds of times. It's a queer disease, +but not serious--at least, not if you don't take it too seriously." + +"You don't know what love is at all," he said. + +She faced him fairly and unashamed. "I do," she said, "It's an animal +passion for the purpose of populating the earth. And if you ask me, I +think it is rather a dirty trick on the part of God." + +"You don't mean that," he said, distressed. + +She laughed again merrily, and slipped her hand into his under the rug. +"Peter," she said--"there, am I not good? You aren't made to worry about +these things. I don't know that anyone is. We can't help ourselves, and +the best thing is to take our pleasures when we can find them. I suppose +you'll be shocked at me, but I'm not going to pretend. I wasn't built +that way. If this were a closed car I'd give you a kiss." + +"I don't want that sort of a kiss," he said. "That was what you gave me +the other night. I want...." + +"You don't know what you want, my dear, though you think you do. You +shouldn't be so serious. I'm sure I kiss very nicely--plenty of men think +so? anyway, and if there is nothing in that sort of kiss, why not kiss? +Is there a Commandment against it? I suppose our grandmothers thought so, +but we don't. Besides, I've been east of Suez, where there ain't no ten +Commandments. There's only one real rule left in life for most of us, +Peter, and that's this: 'Be a good pal, and don't worry.'" + +Peter sighed. "You and I were turned out differently, Julie," he said. +"But I like you awfully. You attract me so much that I don't know how to +express it. There's nothing mean about you, and nothing sham. And I +admire your pluck beyond words. It seems to me that you've looked life in +the face and laughed. Anybody can laugh at death, but very few of us at +life. I think I'm terrified of it. And that's the awful part about it +all, for I ought to know the secret, and I don't. I feel an absolute +hypocrite at times--when I take a service, for example. I talk about +things I don't understand in the least, even about God, and I begin +to think I know nothing about Him...." He broke off, utterly miserable. + +"Poor old boy," she said softly; "is it as bad as that?" + +He turned to her fiercely. "You darling!" he said, carried away by her +tone. "I believe I'd rather have you than--than God!" + +She did not move in her corner, nor did she smile now. "I wonder," she +said slowly. "Peter, it's you that hate shams, not I. It's you that are +brave, not I. I play with shams because I know they're shams, but I like +playing with them. But you are greater than I. You are not content with +playing. One of these days--oh, I don't know...." She broke off and +looked away. + +Peter gripped her hand tightly. "Don't, little girl," he said. "Let's +forget for to-day. Look at those primroses; they're the first I've seen. +Aren't they heavenly?" + +They ran into Caudebec in good time, and lunched at an hotel overlooking +the river, with great enthusiasm. To Peter it was utterly delicious to +have her by him. She was as gay as she could possibly be, and made fun +over everything. Sitting daintily before him, her daring, unconventional +talk carried him away. She chose the wine, and after _dejeuner_ sat with +her elbows on the table, puffing at a cigarette, her brown eyes alight +with mischief, apparently without a thought for to-morrow. + +"Oh, I say," she said, "do look at that party in the corner. The old +Major's well away, and the girl'll have a job to keep him in hand, I +wonder where they're from? Rouen, perhaps; there was a car at the door. +What do you think of the girl?" + +Peter glanced back. "No better than she ought to be," he said. + +"No, I don't suppose so, but they are gay, these French girls. I don't +wonder men like them. And they have a hard time. I'd give them a leg up +any day if I could. I can't, though, so if ever you get a chance do it +for me, will you?" + +Peter assented. "Come on," he said. "Finish that glass if you think you +can, and let's get out." + +"Here's the best, then, I've done. What are we going to see?" + +For a couple of hours they wandered round the old town, with its narrow +streets and even fifteenth-century houses, whose backs actually leaned +over the swift little river that ran all but under the place to the +Seine. They penetrated through an old mill to its back premises, and +climbed precariously round the water-wheel to reach a little moss-grown +platform from which the few remaining massive stones of the Norman wall +and castle could still be seen. The old abbey kept them a good while, +Julie interested Peter enormously as they walked about its cool aisles, +and tried to make out the legends of its ancient glass. She had nothing +of that curious kind of shyness most people have in a church, and that he +would certainly have expected of her. She joked and laughed a little in +it--at a queer row of mutilated statues packed into a kind of chapel to +keep quiet out of the way till wanted, at the vivid red of the Red Sea +engulfing Pharaoh and all his host--but not in the least irreverently. He +recalled a saying of a book he had once read in which a Roman Catholic +priest had defended the homeliness of an Italian congregation by saying +that it was right for them to be at home in their Father's House. It +was almost as if Julie were at home, yet he shrank from the inference. + +She was entirely ignorant of everything, except perhaps, of a little +biblical history, but she made a most interested audience. Once he +thought she was perhaps egging him on for his own pleasure, but when he +grew more silent she urged him to explain. "It's ripping going round with +somebody who knows something," she said. "Most of the men one meets know +absolutely nothing. They're very jolly, but one gets tired. I could +listen to you for ages." + +Peter assured her that he was almost as ignorant as they, but she was +shrewdly insistent. "You read more, and you understand what you read," +she said. "Most people don't. I know." + +They bought picture post-cards off a queer old woman in a peasant +head-dress, and then came back to the river and sat under the shade of +a line of great trees to wait for the tea the hotel had guaranteed them. +Julie now did all the talking--of South Africa, of gay adventures in +France and on the voyage, and of the men she had met. She was as frank +as possible, but Peter wondered how far he was getting to know the real +girl. + +Tea was an unusual success for France. It was real tea, but then there +was reason for that, for Julie had insisted on going into the big +kitchen, to madame's amusement and monsieur's open admiration, and making +it herself. But the chocolate cakes, the white bread and proper butter, +and the cream, were a miracle. Peter wondered if you could get such +things in England now, and Julie gaily told him that the French made laws +only to break them, with several instances thereof. She declared that if +a food-ration officer existed in Caudebec he must be in love with the +landlady's daughter and that she only wished she could get to know such +an official in Havre. The daughter in question waited on them, and Julie +and she chummed up immensely. Finally she was despatched to produce a +collection of Army badges and buttons--scalps Julie called them. When +they came they turned them over. All ranks were represented, or nearly +so, and most regiments that either could remember. There were Canadian, +Australian, and South African badges, and at last Julie declared that +only one was wanting. + +"What will you give for this officer's badge?" she demanded, seizing hold +of one of Peter's Maltese crosses. + +The girl looked at it curiously. "What is it?" she said. + +"It's the badge of the Sacred Legion," said Julie gravely. "You know +Malta? Well, that's part of the British Empire, of course, and the +English used to have a regiment there to defend it from the Turks. It was +a great honour to join, and so it was called the Sacred Legion. This +officer is a Captain in it." + +"Shut up Julie," said Peter, _sotto voce_. + +But nothing would stop her. "Come now," she said. "What will you give? +You'll give her one for a kiss, won't you, Solomon?" + +The girl laughed and blushed "Not before mademoiselle," she said, looking +at Peter. + +"Oh, I'm off," cried Julie, "I'll spare you one, but only one, remember." +and she deliberately got up and left them. + +Mademoiselle was "tres jolie," said the girl, collecting her badges. +Peter detached a cross and gave it her, and she demurely put up her +mouth. He kissed her lightly, and walked leisurely out to settle the bill +and call the car. He had entirely forgotten his depression, and the world +seemed good to him. He hummed a little song by the water's edge as he +waited, and thought over the day. He could never remember having had such +a one in his life. Then he recollected that one badge was gone, and he +abstracted the other. Without his badges he would not be known as a +chaplain. + +When Julie appeared, she made no remark, as he had half-expected. They +got in, and started off back in the cooling evening. Near Tancarville +they stopped the car to have the hood put up, and strolled up into the +grounds of the old castle while they waited. + +"Extraordinary it must have been to have lived in a place like this," +said Peter. + +"Rather," said Julie, "and beyond words awful to the women. I cannot +imagine what they must have been like, but I think they must have been +something like native African women." + +"Why?" queried Peter. + +"Oh, because a native woman never reads and hardly goes five miles from +her village. She is a human animal, who bears children and keeps the +house of her master, that's all. That's what these women must have done." + +"The Church produced some different types," said Peter; "but they had no +chance elsewhere, perhaps. Still, I expect they were as happy as we, +perhaps happier." + +"And their cows were happier still, I should think," laughed Julie. "No, +you can't persuade me. I wouldn't have been a woman in those days for the +world." + +"And now?" asked Peter. + +"Rather! We have much the best time on the whole. We can do what we like +pretty well. If we want to be men, we can. We can put on riding-breeches, +even, and run a farm. But if we like, we can wear glad rags and nice +undies, and be more women than ever." + +"And in the end thereof?" Peter couldn't help asking. + +"Oh," said Julie lightly, "one can settle down and have babies if one +wants to. And sit in a drawing-room and talk scandal as much as one +likes. Not that I shall do either, thank you. I shall--oh, I don't know +what I shall do. Solomon, you are at your worst. Pick me some of those +primroses, and let's be going. You never can tell: we may have to walk +home yet." + +Peter plucked a few of the early blooms, and she pushed them into her +waist-belt. Then they went back to the car, and got in again. + +"Cold?" he asked, after a little. + +"A bit," she said. "Tuck me up, and don't sit in that far corner all the +time. You make me feel chilly to look at you. I hate sentimental people, +but if you tried hard and were nice I could work up quite a lot of +sentiment just now." + +He laughed, and tucked her up as required. Then he lit a cigarette and +slipped his arm round her waist. "Is that better?" he said. + +"Much. But you can't have had much practice. Now tell me stories." + +Peter had a mind to tell her several, but he refrained, and they grew +silent, "Do you think we shall have another day like this?" he demanded, +after a little. + +"I don't see why not," she said. "But one never knows, does one? The +chances are we shan't. It's a queer old world." + +"Let's try, anyway; I've loved it," he said. + +"So have I," said Julie. "It's the best day I've had for a long time, +Peter. You're a nice person to go out with, you know, though I mustn't +flatter you too much. You should develop the gift; it's not everyone that +has it." + +"I've no wish to," he said. + +"You are an old bear," she laughed; "but you don't mean all you say, or +rather you do, for you will say what you mean. You shouldn't, Peter. It's +not done nowadays, and it gives one away. If you were like me, now, you +could say and do anything and nobody would mind. They'd never know what +you meant, and of course all the time you'd mean nothing." + +"So you mean nothing all the time?" he queried. + +"Of course," she said merrily. "What do you think?" + +That jarred Peter a little, so he said nothing and silence fell on them, +and at the Hotel de Ville in the city he asked if she would mind +finishing alone. + +"Not a bit, old thing, if you want to go anywhere," she said. + +He apologised. "Arnold--he's our padre--is likely to be at the club, and +I promised I'd walk home with him," he lied remorselessly. "It's beastly +rude, I know, but I thought you'd understand." + +She looked at him, and laughed. "I believe I do," she said. + +He stopped the car and got out, settling with the man, and glancing up at +a clock. "You'll be in at nine-forty-five," he said, "as proper as +possible. And thank you so much for coming." + +"Thank you, Solomon," she replied. "It's been just topping. Thanks +awfully for taking me. And come in to tea soon, won't you?" He promised +and held out his hand. She pressed it, and waved out of the window as the +car drove off. And no sooner was it in motion than he cursed himself for +a fool. Yet he knew why he had done as he had, there, in the middle of +the town. He knew that he feared she would kiss him again--as before. + +Not noticing where he went, he set off through the streets, making, +unconsciously almost, for the sea, and the dark boulevards that led from +the gaily lit centre of the city towards it. He walked slowly, his mind a +chaos of thoughts, and so ran into a curious adventure. + +As he passed a side-street he heard a man's uneven steps on the pavement, +a girl's voice, a curse, and the sound of a fall. Then followed an +exclamation in another woman's voice, and a quick sentence in French. + +Peter hesitated a minute, and then turned down the road to where a small +group was faintly visible. As he reached it, he saw that a couple of +street girls were bending over a man who lay sprawling on the ground, and +he quickened his steps to a run. His boots were rubber-soled, and all but +noiseless. "Here, I say," he said as he came up. "Let that man alone. +What are you doing?" he added in halting French. One of the two girls +gave a little scream, but the other straightened herself, and Peter +perceived that he knew her. It was Louise, of Travalini's. + +"What are you doing?" he demanded again in English. "Is he hurt?" + +"Non, non, monsieur," said Louise. "He is but 'zig-zag.' We found him a +little way down the street, and he cannot walk easily. So we help him. If +the gendarme--how do you call him?--the red-cap, see him, maybe he will +get into trouble. But now you come. You will doubtless help him. +Vraiment, he is in luck. We go now, monsieur." + +Peter bent over the fallen man. He did not know him, but saw he was a +subaltern, though a middle-aged man. The fellow was very drunk, and did +little else than stutter curses in which the name of our Lord was +frequent. + +Peter pulled at his arm, and Louise stooped to help him. Once up, he got +his arm round him, and demanded where he lived. + +The man stared at them foolishly. Peter gave him a bit of a shake, and +demanded the address again, "Come on," he said. "Pull yourself together, +for the Lord's sake. We shall end before the A.P.M. if you don't. What's +your camp, you fool?" + +At that the man told him, stammeringly, and Peter sighed his relief. +"I know," he said to Louise. "It's not far. I'll maybe get a taxi at the +corner." She pushed him towards a doorway: "Wait a minute," she said. +"I live here; it's all right. I will get a fiacre. I know where to find +one." + +She darted away. It seemed long to Peter, but in a few minutes a horn +tooted and a cab came round the corner. Between them, they got the +subaltern in, and Peter gave the address. Then he pulled out his purse +before stepping in himself, opened it, found a ten-franc note, and +offered it to Louise. + +The girl of the street and the tavern pushed it away. "La!" she +exclaimed. "Vite! Get in. Bon Dieu! Should I be paid for a kindness? Poor +boy! he does not know what he does. He will 'ave a head--ah! terrible--in +the morning. And see, he has fought for la patrie." She pointed to a gold +wound-stripe on his arm. "Bon soir, monsieur." + +She stepped back and spoke quickly to the driver, who was watching +sardonically. He nodded. "Bon soir, monsieur," she said again, and +disappeared in the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +A few weeks later the War Office--if it was the War Office, but one gets +into the habit of attributing these things to the War Office--had one of +its regular spasms. It woke up suddenly with a touch of nightmare, and it +got fearfully busy for a few weeks before going to sleep again. All +manner of innocent people were dragged into the vortex of its activities, +and blameless lives were disturbed and terrorised. This particular +enthusiasm involved even such placid and contented souls as the +Chaplain-General, the Principal Chaplain, their entire staffs and a great +many of their rank and file. It created a new department, acquired many +additional offices for the B.E.F., dragged from their comfortable billets +a certain number of high-principled base officers, and then (by the mercy +of Providence) flickered out almost as soon as the said officers bad made +themselves a little more comfortable than before in their new posts. + +It was so widespread a disturbance that even Peter Graham, most harmless +of men, with plenty of his own fish to fry, was dragged into it, as some +leaf, floating placidly downstream, may be caught and whirled away in an +excited eddy. More definitely, it removed him from Havre and Julie just +when he was beginning to want most definitely to stay there, and of +course, when it happened, he could hardly know that it was to be but a +temporary separation. + +He was summoned, then, one fine morning, to his A.C.G.'s office in town, +and he departed on a bicycle, turning over in his mind such indiscretions +of which he had been guilty and wondering which of them was about to trip +him. Pennell had been confident, indeed, and particular. + +"You're for it, old bean," he had said. "There's a limit to the patience +even of the Church. They are going to say that there is no need for you +to visit hospitals after dark, and that their padres mustn't be seen out +with nurses who smoke in public. And all power to their elbow, I say." + +Peter's reply was certainly not in the Prayer-Book, and would probably +have scandalised its compilers, but he thought, secretly, that there +might be something in what his friend said. Consequently he rode his +bicycle carelessly, and was indifferent to tram-lines and some six inches +of nice sticky mud on parts of the _pave_. In the ordinary course, +therefore, these things revenged themselves upon him. He came off neatly +and conveniently opposite a small _cafe debit_ at a turn in the dock +road, and the mud prevented the _pave_ from seriously hurting him. + +A Frenchman, minding the cross-lines, picked him up, and he, madame, +her assistant, and a customer, carried him into the kitchen off the +bar and washed and dried him. The least he could do was a glass of +French beer all round, with a franc to the dock labourer who straightened +his handle-bars and tucked in a loose spoke, and for all this the War +Office--if it was the War Office, for it may, quite possibly, have been +Lord Northcliffe or Mr. Bottomley, or some other controller of our +national life--was directly responsible. When one thinks that in a +hundred places just such disturbances were in progress in ten times as +many innocent lives, one is appalled at their effrontery. They ought to +eat and drink more carefully, or take liver pills. + +However, in due time Peter sailed up to the office of his immediate chief +but little the worse for wear, and was ushered in. He was prepared for a +solitary interview, but he found a council of some two dozen persons, who +included an itinerant Bishop, an Oxford Professor, a few Y.M.C.A. ladies, +and--triumph of the A.C.G.--a Labour member. Peter could not conceive +that so great a weight of intellect could be involved in his affairs, and +took comfort. He seated himself on a wooden chair, and put on his most +intelligent appearance; and if it was slightly marred by a mud streak +at the back of his ear, overlooked by madame's kindly assistant who had +attended to that side of him, he was not really to blame. Again, it was +the fault of Lord Northcliffe or--or any of the rest of them. + +It transpired that he was slightly late: the Bishop had been speaking. He +was a good Bishop and eloquent, and, as the A.C.G. who now rose to take +the matter in hand remarked, he had struck the right note. In all +probability it was due to Peter's having missed that note that he was so +critical of the scheme. The note would have toned him up. He would have +felt a more generous sympathy for the lads in the field, and would have +been more definitely convinced that something must be done. If not +plainly stated in the Holy Scriptures, his lordship had at least found it +indicated there, but Peter was not aware of this. He only observed that +the note had made everyone solemn and intense except the Labour member. +That gentleman, indeed, interrupted the A.C.G. before he was fairly on +his legs with the remark: "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but as this is an +informal conference, does anyone mind if I smoke?"... + +Peter's A.C.G. was anything but a fool, and the nightmare from +Headquarters had genuinely communicated itself to him. He felt all he +said, and he said it ably. He lacked only in one regard: he had never +been down among the multitude. He knew exactly what would have to have +been in his own mind for him to act as he believed some of them were +acting, and he knew exactly how he would, in so deplorable a condition of +affairs, have set about remedying it. These things, then, he stated +boldly and clearly. As he proceeded, the Y.M.C.A. ladies got out +notebooks, the Professor allowed himself occasional applause, and the +Labour member lit another pipe. + +It appeared that there was extreme unrest and agitation among the troops, +or at least a section of the troops, for no one could say that the armies +in the field were not magnificent. They had got to remember that the +Tommy of to-day was not as the Tommy of yesterday--not that he suffered +by comparison, but that he was far better educated and far more inclined +to think for himself. They were well aware that a little knowledge was a +dangerous thing, or, again, as his friend the Bishop would have doubtless +put it, how great a matter a little fire kindleth. There was no escaping +it: foreign propaganda, certain undesirable books and papers--books and +papers, he need hardly say, outside the control of the reputable +Press--and even Socialistic agitators, were abroad in the Army. He did +not wish to say too much; it was enough to remind them of what, possibly, +they already knew, that certain depots on certain occasions had refused +to sing the National Anthem, and were not content with their wages. +Insignificant as these things might be in detail, G.H.Q. had felt there +was justifiable cause for alarm. This meeting had gathered to consider +plans for a remedy. + +Now he thanked God that they were not Prussians. There must be no attempt +at coercion. A war for liberty must be won by free people. One had, of +course, to have discipline in the Army, but theirs was to-day a citizen +Army. His friend who had left his parliamentary duties to visit France +might rest assured that the organizations represented there that morning +would not forget that. In a word, Tommy had a vote, and he was entitled +to it, and should keep it. One day he should even use it; and although no +one could wish to change horses crossing a stream, still, they hoped that +day would speedily come--the day of peace and victory. + +But meantime, what was to be done? As the Bishop had rightly said, +something must be done. Resolute on this point, H.Q. had called in the +C.G. and the P.C. and, he believed, expert opinion on both sides the +House of Commons; and the general opinion agreed upon was that Tommy +should be educated to vote correctly when the time came, and to wait +peacefully for that time. The Professor could tell them of schemes even +now in process of formation at home in order that the land they loved +might be cleaner, sweeter, better and happier, in the days to come. But +Tommy, meantime, did not know of these things. He was apparently under +the delusion that he must work out his own salvation, whereas, in point +of fact, it was being worked out for him scientifically and religiously. +If these things were clearly laid before him, H.Q. was convinced that +agitation, dissatisfaction, and even revolution--for there were those who +thought they were actually trending in that direction--would be nipped in +the bud. + +The scheme was simple and far-reaching. Lectures would be given all over +the areas occupied by British troops. Every base would be organised in +such a way that such lectures and even detailed courses of study should +be available for everyone. Every chaplain, hutworker, and social +entertainer must do his or her bit. They must know how to speak wisely +and well--not all in public, but, everyone as the occasion offered, +privately, in hut or camp, to inquiring and dissatisfied Tommies. They +would doubtless feel themselves insufficient for these things, but +study-circles were to be formed and literature obtained which would +completely furnish them with information. He would conclude by merely +laying on the table a bundle of the splendid papers and tracts already +prepared for this work. The Professor would now outline what was being +attempted at home, and then the meeting would be open for discussion. + +The Professor was given half an hour, and he made an excellent speech for +a cornered and academic theorist. The first ten minutes he devoted to +explaining that he could not explain in the time; in the second, +tempering the wind to the shorn lamb, he pointed out that it was no use +his outlining schemes not yet completed, or that they could read for +themselves, or that, possibly, without some groundwork, they could not +understand; and in the third ten minutes he outlined the committees +dealing with the work and containing such well-known names as Robert +Smiley, Mr. Button, and Clydens. He sat down. Everyone applauded--the +M.P., and possibly the A.C.G., because they honestly knew and respected +these gentlemen, and the rest because they felt they ought to do so. The +meeting was then opened for discussion. + +Peter took no part in what followed, and, indeed, nothing +over-illuminating was said save one remark, cast upon the waters by the +Labour member, which was destined to be found after many days. They were +talking of the lectures, and one of the ladies (Peter understood a Girton +lecturer) was apparently eager to begin without delay. The M.P. begged to +ask a question: Were there to be questions and a discussion? + +The A.C.G. glanced at a paper before him, and rose. He apologised for +omitting to mention it before, but H.Q. thought it would be subverse of +all discipline if, let us say, privates should be allowed to get up and +argue with the officers who might have addressed them. They all knew +what might be said in the heat of argument. Also, if he might venture to +say so, some of their lecturers, though primed with the right lecture, +might not be such experts that they could answer every question, and +plainly failure to satisfy a questioner might be disastrous. But +questions could be written and replies given at the next lecture. He +thought, smiling, that some of them would perhaps find that convenient. + +The M.P. leaned back in his chair. "Well, sir," he said, "I'm sorry to be +a wet-blanket, but if that is so, the scheme is wrecked from the start. +You don't know the men; I do. They're not going to line up, like the +pupils of Dotheboys Academy, for a spoonful of brimstone and treacle." + +The meeting was slightly scandalised. The chairman, however, rose to the +occasion. That, he said, was a matter for H.Q. They were there to do +their duty. And, being an able person, he did his. In ten minutes they +were formed into study-bands and were pledged to study, with which +conclusion the meeting adjourned. + +Peter was almost out of the door when he heard his name called, and +turning, saw the A.C.G. beckoning him. He went up to the table and shook +hands. + +"Do you know the Professor?" asked his superior. "Professor, this is Mr. +Graham." + +"How do you do?" said the man of science. "You are Graham of Balliol, +aren't you? You read Political Science and Economics a little at Oxford, +I think? You ought to be the very man for us, especially as you know how +to speak." + +Peter was confused, but, being human, a little flattered. He confessed to +the sins enumerated, and waited for more. + +"Well," said the A.C.G., "I've sent in your name already, Graham, and +they want you to go to Abbeville for a few weeks. A gathering is to be +made there of the more promising material, and you are to get down to the +work of making a syllabus, and so on. You will meet other officers from +all branches of the Service, and it should be interesting and useful. I +presume you will be willing to go? Of course it is entirely optional, but +I may say that the men who volunteer will not be forgotten." + +"Quite so," said the Professor. "They will render extremely valuable +service. I shall hope to be there part of the time myself." + +Peter thought quickly of a number of things, as one does at such a +moment. Some of them were serious things, and some quite frivolous--like +Julie. But he could hardly do otherwise than consent. He asked when he +should have to go. + +"In a few days. You'll have plenty of time to get ready. I should advise +you to write for some books, and begin to read up a little, for I expect +you are a bit rusty, like the rest of us. And I shall hope to have you +back lecturing in this Army area before long." + +So to speak, bowed out, Peter made his way home. In the Rue de Paris +Julie passed him, sitting with a couple of other nurses in an ambulance +motor-lorry, and she waved her hand to him. The incident served to +depress him still more, and he was a bit petulant as he entered the mess. +He flung his cap on the table, and threw himself into a chair. + +"Well," said Pennell, who was there, "on the peg all right?" + +"Don't be a fool!" said Peter sarcastically. "I'm wanted on the Staff. +Haig can't manage without me. I've got to leave this perishing suburb and +skip up to H.Q., and don't you forget it, old dear. I shall probably be a +Major-General before you get your third pip. Got that?" + +Pennell took his pipe from his mouth. "What's in the wind now?" he +demanded. + +"Well, you might not have noticed it, but I'm a political and economic +expert, and Haig's fed up that you boys don't tumble to the wisdom of the +centuries as you ought. Consequently I've got to instruct you. I'm going +to waltz around in a motor-car, probably with tabs up, and lecture. And +there aren't to be any questions asked, for that's subversive of +discipline." + +"Good Lord, man, do talk sense! What in the world do you mean?" + +"I mean jolly well what I say, if you want to know, or something precious +like it. The blinking Army's got dry-rot and revolutionary fever, and we +may all be murdered in our little beds unless I put a shoulder to the +wheel. That's a bit mixed, but it'll stand. I shall be churning out this +thing by the yard in a little." + +"Any extra pay?" demanded Pennell anxiously. "I can lecture on +engineering, and would do for an extra sixpence. Whisky's going up, and +I haven't paid my last mess bill." + +"You haven't, old son," said Arnold, coming in, "and you've jolly well +got to. Here's a letter for you, Graham." + +Peter glanced at the envelope and tore it open. Pennell knocked his pipe +out with feigned dejection. "The fellow makes me sick, padre," he said. +"He gets billets-doux every hour of the blessed day." + +Peter jumped up excitedly. "This is better," he said. "It's a letter from +Langton at Rouen, a chap I met there who writes occasionally. He's been +hauled in for this stunt himself, and is to go to Abbeville as well. By +Jove, I'll go up with him if I can. Give me some paper, somebody. I'll +have to write to him at once, or we'll boss it." + +"And make a will, and write to a dozen girls, I should think," said +Pennell. "I don't know what the blooming Army's coming to. Might as well +chuck it and have peace, I think. But meantime I've got to leave you +blighted slackers to gad about the place, and go and do an honest day's +work. _I_ don't get Staff jobs and red tabs. No; I help win the ruddy +war, that's all. See you before you go, Graham, I suppose? They'll likely +run the show for a day or two more without you. There'll be time for you +to stand a dinner on the strength of it yet." + +A week later Peter met Langton by appointment in the Rouen club, the two +of them being booked to travel that evening via Amiens to Abbeville. His +tall friend was drinking a whisky-and-soda in the smoke-room and talking +with a somewhat bored expression to no less a person than Jenks of the +A.S.C. + +Peter greeted them. "Hullo!" he said to the latter. "Fancy meeting you +here again. Don't say you're going to lecture as well?" + +"The good God preserve us!" exclaimed Jenks blasphemously. "But I am off +in your train to Boulogne. Been transferred to our show there, and +between ourselves, I'm not sorry to go. It's a decent hole in some ways, +Boulogne, and it's time I got out of Rouen. You're a lucky man, padre, +not to be led into temptation by every damned girl you meet. I don't know +what they see in me," he continued mournfully, "and, at this hour of the +afternoon, I don't know what I see in them." + +"Nor do I," said Langton. "Have a drink, Graham? There'll be no getting +anything on the ruddy train. We leave at six-thirty, and get in somewhere +about four a.m. next morning, so far as I can make out." + +"You don't sound over-cheerful," said Graham. + +"I'm not. I'm fed up over this damned lecture stunt! The thing's +condemned to failure from the start, and at any rate it's no time for it. +Fritz means more by this push than the idiots about here allow. He may +not get through; but, on the other hand, he may. If he does, it's UP with +us all. And here we are to go lecturing on economics and industrial +problems while the damned house is on fire!" + +Peter took his drink and sat down. "What's your particular subject?" he +asked. + +"The Empire. Colonies. South Africa. Canada. And why? Because I took a +degree in History in Cambridge, and have done surveying on the C.P.R. +Lor'! Finish that drink and have another." + +They went together to the station, and got a first to themselves, in +which they were fortunate. They spread their kit about the place, +suborned an official to warn everyone else off, and then Peter and +Langton strolled up and down the platform for half an hour, as the +train was not now to start till seven. Somebody told them there was +a row on up the line, though it was not plain how that would affect +them. Jenks departed on business of his own. A girl lived somewhere +in the neighbourhood. + +"How're you getting on now, padre?" asked Langton. + +"I'm not getting on," said Peter. "I'm doing my job as best I can, and +I'm seeing all there is to see, but I'm more in a fog than ever. I've got +a hospital at Havre, and I distribute cigarettes and the news of the day. +That's about all. I get on all right with the men socially, and now and +again I meet a keen Nonconformist who wants me to pray with him, or an +Anglican who wants Holy Communion, but not many. When I preach I rebuke +vice, as the Apostle says, but I'm hanged if I really know why." + +Langton laughed. "That's a little humorous, padre," he said. "What about +the Ten Commandments?" + +Peter thought of Julie. He kicked a stone viciously. "Commandments are no +use," he said--"not out here." + +"Nor anywhere," said Langton, "nor ever, I think, too. Why do you suppose +I keep moderately moral? Chiefly because I fear natural consequences and +have a wife and kiddies that I love. Why does Jenks do the opposite? +Because he's more of a fool or less of a coward, and chiefly loves +himself. That's all, and that's all there is in it for most of us." + +"You don't fear God at all, then?" demanded Peter. + +"Oh that I knew where I might find him!" quoted Langton. "I don't believe +He thundered on Sinai, at any rate." + +"Nor spoke in the Sermon on the Mount?" + +"Ah, I'm not so sure but it seems to me that He said too much or He +said too little there, Graham. One can't help 'looking on' a woman +occasionally. And in any case it doesn't seem to me that the Sermon is +anything like the Commandments. Brotherly love is behind the first, fear +of a tribal God behind the second. So far as I can see, Christ's creed +was to love and to go on loving and never to despair of love. Love, +according to Him, was stronger than hate, or commandments or preaching, +or the devil himself. If He saved souls at all, He saved them by loving +them whatever they were, and I reckon He meant us to do the same. What do +you make of the woman taken in adultery, and the woman who wiped His feet +with her hair? Or of Peter? or of Judas? He saved Peter by loving him +when he thought he ought to have the Ten Commandments and hell fire +thrown at his head and I reckon He'd have saved Judas by giving him that +sop-token of love if he hadn't had a soul that could love nothing but +himself." + +"What is love, Langton?" asked Peter, after a pause. + +The other looked at him curiously, and laughed. "Ask the Bishops," he +said. "Don't ask me. I don't know. Living with the woman to whom you're +married because you fear to leave her, or because you get on all right, +is not love at any rate. I can't see that marriage has got much to do +with it. It's a decent convention of society at this stage of development +perhaps, and it may sign and seal love for some people. But I reckon +love's love--a big positive thing that's bigger than sin, and bigger than +the devil. I reckon that if God sees that anywhere, He's satisfied. I +don't think Cranmer's marriage service affects Him much, nor the laws +of the State. If a man cares to do without either, he runs a risk, of +course. Society's hard on a woman, and man's meant to be a gregarious +creature. But that's all there is in it." + +"But how can you tell lust from love?" demanded Peter. + +"You can't, I think," said Langton. "Most men can't, anyway. Women may +do, but I don't know. I reckon that what they lust after mostly is babies +and a home. I don't think they know it any more than men know that what +they're after is the gratification of a passion; but there it is. We're +sewer rats crawling up a damned long drain, if you ask me, padre! I don't +know who said it, but it's true." + +They turned in their walk, and Peter looked out over the old town. In the +glow of sunset the thin iron modern spire of the cathedral had a grace +not its own, and the roofs below it showed strong and almost sentient. +One could imagine that the distant cathedral brooding over the city +heard, saw, and spoke, if in another language than the language of men. + +"If that were all, Langton," said Peter suddenly, "I'd shoot myself." + +"You're a queer fellow, Graham," said Langton. "I almost think you might. +I'd like to know what becomes of you, anyway. Forgive me--I don't mean to +be rude--but you may make a parson yet. But don't found a new religion +for Heaven's sake, and don't muddle up man-made laws and God-made +instincts--if they are God-made," he added. + +Peter said nothing, until they were waiting at the carriage-door for +Jenks. Then he said: "Then you think out here men have simply abandoned +conventions, and because there is no authority or fear or faith left to +them, they do as they please?" + +Langton settled himself in a corner. "Yes," he said, "that's right in a +way. But that's negatively. I'd go farther than that. Of course, there +are a lot of Judas Iscariots about for whom I shouldn't imagine the devil +himself has much time, though I suppose we ought not to judge 'em, but +there are also a lot of fine fellows--and fine women. They are men and +women, if I understand it, who have sloughed off the conventions, that +are conventions simply for convention's sake, and who are reaching out +towards the realities. Most of them haven't an idea what those are, but +dumbly they know. Tommy knows, for instance, who is a good chum and who +isn't; that is, he knows that sincerity and unselfishness and pluck are +realities. He doesn't care a damn if a chap drinks and swears and commits +what the Statute-Book and the Prayer-Book call fornication. And he +certainly doesn't think there is an ascending scale of sins, or at +any rate that you parsons have got the scale right." + +"I shouldn't be surprised if we haven't," said Peter. "The Bible lumps +liars and drunkards and murderers and adulterers and dogs--whatever that +may mean--into hell altogether." + +"That's so," said Langton, sticking a candle on the window-sill; "but I +reckon that's not so much because they lie or drink or murder or lust +or--or grin about the city like our friend Jenks, who'll likely miss the +boat for that very reason, but because of something else they all have in +common." + +"What's that?" demanded Peter. + +"I haven't the faintest idea," said Langton. + +At this moment the French guard, an R.T.O., and Jenks appeared in sight +simultaneously, the two former urging the latter along. He caught sight +of them, and waved. + +"Help him in," said the R.T.O., a jovial-looking subaltern, +genially--"and keep him there," he added under his voice. +"He's had all he can carry, and if he gets loose again he'll +be for the high jump. The wonder is he ever got back in +time." + +Peter helped him up. The subaltern glanced at his badges and smiled. +"He's in good company anyway, padre," he said. "If you're leaving the +ninety-and-nine in the wilderness, here's one to bring home rejoicing." +He slammed the door. "Right-o!" he said to the guard; "they're all aboard +now." The man comprehended the action, and waved a flag. The train +started after the manner of French trains told off for the use of British +soldiers, and Jenks collapsed on the seat. + +"Damned near thing that!" he said unsteadily; "might have missed the +bloody boat! I saw my little bit, though. She's a jolly good sort, she +is. Blasted strong stuff that French brandy, though! Whiskies at the club +first, yer know. Give us a hand, padre; I reckon I'll just lie down +a bit.... Jolly good sort of padre, eh, skipper? What?" + +Peter helped him into his place, and then came and sat at his feet, +opposite Langton, who smiled askance at him. "I'll read a bit," he said. +"Jenks won't trouble us further; he'll sleep it off. I know his sort. Got +a book, padre?" + +Peter said he had, but that he wouldn't read for a little, and he sat +still looking at the country as they jolted past in the dusk. After a +while Langton lit his candle, and contrived a wind-screen, for the centre +window was broken, of a newspaper. Peter watched him drowsily. He had +been up early and travelled already that day. The motion helped, too, and +in half an hour or so he was asleep. + +He dreamt that he was preaching Langton's views on the Sermon on the +Mount in the pulpit of St. John's, and that the Canon, from his place +beside the credence-table within the altar-rails, was shouting at him to +stop. In his dream he persisted, however, until that irate dignitary +seized the famous and massive offertory-dish by his side and hurled it +in the direction of the pulpit. The clatter that it made on the stone +floor awoke him. + +He was first aware that the train was no longer in motion, and next that +Langton's tall form was leaning half out of the window. Then confused +noises penetrated his consciousness, and he perceived that light +flickered in the otherwise darkened compartment. "Where are we?" he +demanded, now fully awake. "What's up?" + +Langton answered over his shoulder. "Some where outside of a biggish +town," he said; "and there's the devil of a strafe on. The whole +sky-line's lit up, but that may be twenty miles off. However, Fritz +must have advanced some." + +He was interrupted by a series of much louder explosions and the rattle +of machine-gun fire. "That's near," he said. "Over the town, I should +say--an air-raid, though it may be long-distance firing. Come and see for +yourself." + +He pulled himself back into the carriage, and Peter leaned out of the +window in his turn. It was as the other had said. Flares and sudden +flashes, that came and went more like summer-lightning than anything +else, lit up the whole sky-line, but nearer at hand a steady glow from +one or two places showed in the sky. One could distinguish flights of +illuminated tracer bullets, and now and again what he took to be Very +lights exposed the countryside. Peter saw that they were in a siding, the +banks of which reached just above the top of the compartments. It was +only by craning that he could see fields and what looked like a house +beyond. Men were leaning out of all the windows, mostly in silence. In +the compartment next them a man cursed the Huns for spoiling his beauty +sleep. It was slightly overdone, Peter thought. + +"Good God!" said, his companion behind him. "Listen!" + +It was difficult, but between the louder explosions Peter concentrated +his senses on listening. In a minute he heard something new, a faint buzz +in the air. + +"Aeroplanes," said Langton coolly. "I hope they don't spot us. Let me +see. Maybe it's our planes." He craned out in Peter's place. "I can't see +anything," he said, "and you can hear they're flying high." + +Down the train everyone was staring upwards now. "Christ!" exclaimed +Langton suddenly, "some fool's lighting a pipe! Put that match out +there," he called. + +Other voices took him up. "That's better," he said in a minute. "Forgive +my swearing, padre, but a match might give us away." + +Peter was silent, and, truth to tell, terrified. He tried hard not to +feel it, and glanced at Jenks. He was still asleep, and breathing +heavily. He pressed his face against the pane, and tried to stare up too. + +"They're coming," said Langton suddenly and quickly. "There they are, +too--Hun planes. They may not see us, of course, but they may...." He +brought his head in again and sat down. + +"Is there anything we can do?" said Peter. + +"Nothing," said Langton, "unless you like to get under the seat. But +that's no real good. It's on the knees of the gods, padre, whatever gods +there be." + +Just then Peter saw one. Sailing obliquely towards them and lit by the +light of a flare, the plane looked serene and beautiful. He watched it, +fascinated. + +"It's very low--two hundred feet, I should say," said Langton behind him. +"Hope he's no pills left. I wonder whether there's another. Let's have a +look the other side." + +He had scarcely got up to cross the compartment when the rattle of a +machine-gun very near broke out. "Our fellows, likely," he exclaimed +excitedly, struggling with the sash, but they knew the truth almost as he +spoke. + +Langton ducked back. A plane on the other side was deliberately flying up +the train, machine-gunning. "Down, padre, for God's sake!" he exclaimed, +and threw himself on the floor. + +Peter couldn't move. He heard the splintering of glass and a rending of +woodwork, some oaths, and a sudden cry. The whirr of an engine filled his +ears and seemed, as it were, on top of them. Then there was a crash all +but at his side, and next instant a half-smothered groan and a dreadful +gasp for breath. + +He couldn't speak. He heard Langton say, "Hit, anyone?" and then Jenks' +"They've got me, skipper," in a muffled whisper, and he noticed that the +hard breathing had ceased. At that he found strength and voice and jumped +up. He bent over Jenks. "Where have you got it, old man?" he said, and +hardly realised that it was himself speaking. + +The other was lying just as before, on his back, but he had pulled his +knees up convulsively and a rug had slipped off. In a flare Peter saw +beads of sweat on his forehead and a white, twisted face. + +He choked back panic and knelt down. He had imagined it all before, and +yet not quite like this. He knew what he ought to say, but for a minute +he could not formulate it. "Where are you hit, Jenks?" was all he said. + +The other turned his head a little and looked at him. "Body--lungs, I +think," he whispered. "I'm done, padre; I've seen chaps before." + +The words trailed off. Peter gripped himself mentally, and steadied his +voice. "Jenks, old man," he said. "Just a minute. Think about God--you +are going to Him, you know. Trust Him, will you? 'The blood of Jesus +Christ, God's Son, saveth us from all sin.'" + +The dying man, moved his hand convulsively. "Don't you worry, padre," he +said faintly; "I've been--confirmed." The lips tightened a second with +pain, and then: "Reckon I won't--shirk. Have you--got--a cigarette?" + +Peter felt quickly for his case, fumbled and dropped one, then got +another into his fingers. He hesitated a second, and then, put it to his +own lips, struck a match, and puffed at it. He was in the act of holding +it to the other when Langton spoke behind him: + +"It's no good now, padre," he said quietly; "it's all over." + +And Peter saw that it was. + +The planes did not come back. The officer in charge of the train came +down it with a lantern, and looked in. "That makes three," he said. "We +can do nothing now, but we'll be in the station in a bit. Don't show any +lights; they may come back. Where the hell were our machines, I'd like to +know?" + +He went on, and Peter sat down in his corner. Langton picked up the rug, +and covered up the body. Then he glanced at Peter. "Here," he said, +holding out a flask, "have some of this." + +Peter shook his head. Langton came over to him. "You must," he said; +"it'll pull you together. Don't go under now, Graham. You kept your nerve +just now--come on." + +At that Peter took it, and drained the little cup the other poured out +for him. Then he handed it back, without a word. + +"Feel better?" queried the other, a trifle curiously, staring at him. + +"Yes, thanks," said Peter--"a damned sight better! Poor old Jenks! What +blasted luck that he should have got it!... Langton, I wish to God it had +been me!" + + + + +PART II + +"And the Lord turned and looked upon Peter." + +ST. LUKE'S GOSPEL. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The charm of the little towns of Northern France is very difficult to +imprison on paper. It is not exactly that they are old, although there is +scarcely one which has not a church or a chateau or a quaint medieval +street worth coming far to see; nor that they are particularly +picturesque, for the ground is fairly flat, and they are all but always +set among the fields, since it is by agriculture far more than by +manufacture that they live. But they are clean and cheerful; one thinks +of them under the sun; and they are very homely. In them the folk smile +simply at you, but not inquisitively as in England, for each bustles +gaily about his own affairs, and will let you do what you please, with a +shrug of the shoulders. Abbeville is very typical of all this. It has its +church, and from the bridge over the Somme the backs of ancient houses +can be seen leaning half over the river, which has sung beneath them for +five hundred years; and it is set in the midst of memories of stirring +days. Yet it is not for these that one would revisit the little town, but +rather that one might walk by the still canal under the high trees in +spring, or loiter in the market-place round what the Hun has left of the +statue of the famous Admiral with his attendant nymphs, or wander down +the winding streets that skirt the ancient church and give glimpses of +its unfinished tower. + +Peter found it very good to be there in the days that followed the death +of Jenks. True, it was now nearer to the seat of war than it had been for +years, and air-raids began to be common, but in a sense the sound of the +guns fitted in with his mood. So great a battle was being fought within +him that the world could not in any case have seemed wholly at peace, and +yet in the quiet fields, or sauntering of an afternoon by the river, he +found it easier than at Havre to think. Langton was almost his sole +companion, and a considerable intimacy had grown up between them. Peter +found that his friend seemed to understand a great deal of his thoughts +without explanation. He neither condoled nor exhorted; rather he watched +with an almost shy interest the other's inward battle. + +They lodged at the Hotel de l'Angleterre, that hostelry in the street +that leads up and out of the town towards Saint Riquier, which you +enter from a courtyard that opens on the road and has rooms that you +reach by means of narrow, rickety flights of stairs and balconies +overhanging the court. The big dining-room wore an air of gloomy +festivity. Its chandeliers swathed in brown paper, its faded paint, and +its covered upholstery, suggested that it awaited a day yet to be when it +should blossom forth once more in glory as in the days of old. Till then +it was as merry as it could be. Its little tables filled up of an evening +with the new cosmopolitan population of the town, and old Jacques bustled +round with the good wine, and dropped no hint that the choice brands were +nearly at an end in the cellar. + +Peter and Langton would have their war-time apology for _petit dejeuner_ +in bed or alone. Peter, as a rule, was up early, and used to wander out a +little and sometimes into church, coming back to coffee as good as ever, +but war-time bread instead of rolls on a small table under a low balcony +in the courtyard if it were fine. He would linger over it, and have +chance conversation with passing strangers of all sorts, from clerical +personages belonging to the Church Army or the Y.M.C.A. to officers who +came and went usually on unrevealed affairs. Then Langton would come +down, and they would stroll round to the newly-fitted-up office which had +been prepared for the lecture campaign and glance at maps of districts, +and exchange news with the officer in charge, who, having done all he +could, had now nothing to do but stand by and wait for the next move from +a War Office that had either forgotten his existence or discovered some +hitch in its plans. They had a couple of lectures from people who were +alleged to know all about such topics as the food shortage at home or the +new plans for housing, but who invariably turned out to be waiting +themselves for the precise information that was necessary for successful +lectures. After such they would stroll out through the town into the +fields, and Langton would criticise the thing in lurid but humorous +language, and they would come back to the club and sit or read till +lunch. + +The club was one of the best in France, it was an old house with lovely +furniture, and not too much of it, which stood well back from the street +and boasted an old-fashioned garden of shady trees and spring flowers and +green lawns. Peter could both read and write in its rooms, and it was +there that he finally wrote to Hilda, but not until after much thought. + +After his day with Julie at Caudebec one might have supposed that there +was nothing left for him to do but break off his engagement to Hilda. But +it did not strike him so. For one thing, he was not engaged to Julie or +anything like it, and he could not imagine such a situation, even if +Julie had not positively repudiated any desire to be either engaged or +married. He had certainly declared, in a fit of enthusiasm, that he loved +her, but he had not asked if she loved him. He had seen her since, but +although they were very good friends, nothing more exciting had passed +between them. Peter was conscious that when he was with Julie she +fascinated him, but that when he was away--ah! that was it, when he was +away? It certainly was not that Hilda came back and took her place; it +was rather that the other things in his mind dominated him. It was a +curious state of affairs. He was less like an orthodox parson than he had +ever been, and yet he had never thought so much about religion. He +agonised over it now. At times his thoughts were almost more than he +could bear. + +It came, then, to this, that he had not so much changed towards Hilda as +changed towards life. Whether he had really fundamentally changed in such +a way that a break with the old was inevitable he did not know. Till then +Hilda was part of the old, and if he went back to it she naturally took +her old place in it. If he did not--well, there he invariably came to the +end of thought. Curiously enough, it was when faced with a mental blank +that Julie's image began to rise in his mind. If he admitted her, he +found himself abandoning himself to her. He felt sometimes that if he +could but take her in his arms he could let the world go by, and God with +it. Her kisses were at least a reality. There was neither convention nor +subterfuge nor divided allegiance there. She was passion, naked and +unashamed, and at least real. + +And then he would remember that much of this was problematical after all, +for they had never kissed as that passion demanded, or at least that he +had never so kissed her. He was not sure of the first. He knew that he +did not understand Julie, but he felt, if he did kiss her, it would be a +kiss of surrender, of finality. He feared to look beyond that, and he +could not if he would. + +He wrote, then, to Hilda, and he told of the death of Jenks, and of their +arrival in Abbeville, "You must understand, dear," he said, "that all +this has had a tremendous effect upon me. In that train all that I had +begun to feel about the uselessness of my old religion came to a head. I +could do no more for that soul than light a cigarette.... Possibly no one +could have done any more, but I cannot, I will not believe it. Jenks was +not fundamentally evil, or at least I don't think so. He was rather a +selfish fool who had no control, that is all. He did not serve the devil; +it was much more that he had never seen any master to serve. And I could +do nothing. I had no master to show him. + +"You may say that that is absurd: that Christ is my Master, and I could +have shown Him. Hilda, so He is: I cling passionately to that. But +listen: I can't express Him, I don't understand Him. I no longer feel +that He was animating and ordering the form of religion I administered. +It is not that I feel Anglicanism to be untrue, and something else--say +Wesleyanism--to be true; it is much more that I feel them all to be out +of touch with reality. _That's_ it. I don't think you can possibly see +it, but that is the main trouble. + +"That, too, brings me to my next point, and this I find harder still to +express. I want you to realise that I feel as if I had never seen life +before. I feel as if I had been shown all my days a certain number of +pictures and told that they were the real thing, or given certain +descriptions and told that they were true. I had always accepted that +they were. But, Hilda, they are not. Wickedness is not wicked in the way +that I was told it was wicked, and what I was told was salvation is not +the salvation men and women want. I have been playing in a fool's +paradise all these years, and I've got outside the gate. I am distressed +and terrified, I think, but underneath it all I am very glad.... + +"You will say, 'What are you going to do?' and I can only reply, I don't +know. I'm not going to make any vast change, if you mean that. A padre I +am, and a padre I shall stay for the war at least, and none of us can see +beyond that at present. But what I do mean to do is just this: I mean to +try and get down to reality myself and try to weigh it up. I am going to +eat and drink with publicans and sinners; maybe I shall find my Master +still there." + +Peter stopped and looked up. Langton was stretched out in a chair beside +him, reading a novel, a pipe in his mouth. Moved by an impulse, he +interrupted him. + +"Old man," he said, "I want you to let me read you a bit of this letter. +It's to my girl, but there's nothing rotten in reading it. May I?" + +Langton did not move. "Carry on," he said shortly. + +Peter finished and put down the sheet. The other smoked placidly and said +nothing. "Well?" demanded Peter impatiently. + +"I should cut out that last sentence," pronounced the judge. + +"Why? It's true." + +"Maybe, but it isn't pretty." + +"Langton," burst out Peter, "I'm sick of prettinesses! I've been stuffed +up with them all my life, and so has she. I want to break with them." + +"Very likely, and I don't say that it won't be the best thing for you to +try for a little to do so, but she hasn't been where you've been or seen +what you've seen. You can't expect her wholly to understand. And more +than that, maybe she is meant for prettinesses. After all, they're +pretty." + +Peter stabbed the blotting-paper with his pen. "Then she isn't meant for +me," he said. + +"I'm not so sure," said Langton. "I don't know that you've stuff enough +in you to get on without those same prettinesses yourself. Most of us +haven't. And at any rate I wouldn't burn my boats yet awhile. You may +want to escape yet." + +Peter considered this in silence. Then he drew the sheets to him and +added a few more words, folded the paper, put it in the envelope, and +stuck it down. "Come on," he said, "let's go and post this and have a +walk." + +Langton got up and looked at him curiously, as he sometimes did. "Peter," +he said, "you're a weird blighter, but there's something damned gritty in +you. You take life too strenuously. Why can't you saunter through it like +I do?" + +Peter reached for this cap. "Come on," he said again, "and don't talk +rot." + +Out in the street, they strolled aimlessly on, more or less in silence. +The big book-shop at the corner detained them for a little, and they +regarded its variegated contents through the glass. It contained a few +good prints, and many more poorly executed coloured pictures of ruined +places in France and Belgium, of which a few, however, were not bad. +Cheek by jowl with some religious works, a statue of Notre Dame d'Albert, +and some more of Jeanne d'Arc, were a line of pornographic novels and +beyond packets of picture post-cards entitled _Theatreuses, Le Bain de la +Parisienne, Les Seins des Marbre_, and so on. Then Langton drew Graham's +attention to one or two other books, one of which had a gaudy cover +representing a mistress with a birch-rod in her hands and a number of +canes hung up beside her, while a girl of fifteen or so, with very red +cheeks, was apparently about to be whipped. "Good Lord," said Langton, +"the French are beyond me. This window is a study for you, Graham, in +itself. I should take it that it means that there is nothing real in +life. It is utterly cynical. + +"'And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, +End in what All begins and ends in--Yes; +Think then you are To-day what Yesterday +You were--To-morrow you shall not be less,'" + +he quoted. + +"Yes," said Peter. "Or else it means that there are only two realities, +and that the excellent person who keeps this establishment regards both +in a detached way, and conceives it her business to cater for each. Let's +go on." + +They turned the corner, and presently found themselves outside the famous +carven door of the church. "Have you ever been round?" asked Peter. + +"No," said Langton; "let's go in." + +They passed through the door into the old church, which, in contrast to +that at Le Havre, was bathed in the daylight that streamed through many +clear windows. Together they wandered round it, saying little. They +inspected an eighteenth-century statue of St. Roch, who was pulling up +his robe to expose a wound and looking upwards at the same time +seraphically--or, at least, after the manner that the artist of that age +had regarded as seraphic. A number of white ribbons and some wax figures +of feet and hands and other parts of the body were tied to him. They +stood before a wonderful coloured alabaster reredos of the fourteenth +century, in which shepherds and kings and beasts came to worship at the +manger. They had a little conversation as to the architectural periods of +the nave, choir, and transepts, and Langton was enthusiastic over a noble +pillar and arch. Beyond they gazed in silence at a statue of Our Lady +Immaculate in modern coloured plaster, so arranged that the daylight +fell through an unseen opening upon her. Among the objects in front were +a pair of Renaissance candlesticks of great beauty. A French officer came +up and arranged and lit a votive candle as they watched, and then went +back to stand in silence by a pillar. The church door banged and two +peasants came in, one obviously from the market, with a huge basket of +carrots and cabbages and some long, thin French loaves. She deposited +this just inside the door, took holy water, clattered up towards the high +altar, dropped a curtsy, and made her way to an altar of the Sacred +Heart, at which she knelt. Peter sighed. "Come on," he said; "let's +get out." + +Langton marched on before him, and held the door back as they stepped +into the street. "Well, philosopher," he demanded, "what do you make of +that?" + +Peter smiled. "What do you?" he said. + +"Well," said Langton, "it leaves me unmoved, except when I'm annoyed by +the way their wretched images spoil the church, but it is plain that they +like it. I should say one of your two realities is there. But I find it +hard to forgive the bad art." + +"Do you?" said Peter, "I don't. It reminds me of those appalling +enlargements of family groups that you see, for example, in any Yorkshire +cottage. They are unutterably hideous, but they stand for a real thing +that is honest and beautiful--the love of home and family. And by the +same token, when the photographs got exchanged, as they do in Mayfair, +for modern French pictures of nude women, or some incredible Futurist +extravagance, that love has usually flown out of the window." + +"Humph!" said Langton--"not always. Besides, why can't a family group be +made artistically, and so keep both art and love? I should think we ought +to aim at that." + +"I suppose we ought," said Peter, "but in our age the two don't seem to +go together. Goodness alone knows why. Why, hullo!" he broke off. + +"What's up now?" demanded Langton. + +"Why, there, across the street, if that isn't a nurse I know from Havre, +I don't know who it is. Wait a tick." + +He crossed the road, and saw, as he got near, that it was indeed Julie. +He came up behind her as she examined a shop-window. "By all that's +wonderful, what are you doing here?" he asked. + +She turned quickly, her eyes dancing. "I wondered if I should meet you," +she said. "You see, your letter told me you were coming here, but I +haven't heard from you since you came, and I didn't know if you had +started your tour or not. _I_ came simply enough. There's a big South +African hospital here, and we had to send up a batch of men by motor. +As they knew I was from South Africa, they gave me the chance to come +with them." + +"Well, I _am_ glad," said Peter, devouring the sight of her. "Wait a +minute; I must introduce you to Langton. He and I are together, and he's +a jolly good chap." + +He turned and beckoned Langton, who came over and was introduced. They +walked up the street a little way together. "Where are you going now?" +asked Peter. + +"Back to the hospital," said Julie. "A car starts from the square at +twelve-forty-five, and I have to be in for lunch." + +"Have you much to do up there?" asked Peter. + +"Oh no," she said, "my job's done. I clear off the day after to-morrow. +We only got in last night, so I get a couple of days' holiday. What are +you doing? You don't look any too busy." + +Peter glanced across at Langton and laughed. "We aren't," he said. "The +whole stunt's a wash-out, if you ask me, and we're really expecting to be +sent back any day. There's too much doing now for lectures. Is the +hospital full?" + +"Packed," said Julie gravely. "The papers say we're falling back steadily +so as not to lose men, but the facts don't bear it out. We're crammed +out. It's ghastly; I've never known it so bad." + +Peter had hardly ever seen her grave before, and her face showed a new +aspect of her. He felt a glow of warmth steal over him. "I say," he said, +"couldn't you dine with us to-night? We're at the Angleterre, and its +tremendously respectable." + +She laughed, her gravity vanishing in a minute. "I must say," she said, +"that I'd love to see you anywhere really respectable. He's a terrible +person for a padre--don't you think so, Captain Langton?" + +"Terrible," said Langton. "But really the Angleterre is quite proper. You +don't get any too bad a dinner, either. Do come, Miss Gamelyn." + +She appeared to consider. "I might manage it," she said at last, stopping +just short of entering the square; "but I haven't the nerve to burst in +and ask for you. Nor will it do for you to see me all the way to that +car, or we shall have a dozen girls talking. If you will meet me +somewhere," she added, looking at Peter, "I'll risk it. I'll have a +headache and not go to first dinner; then the first will think I'm at the +second, and the second at the first. Besides, I've no duty, and the +hospital's not like Havre. It's all spread out in huts and tents, and +it's easy enough to get in. Last, but not least, it's Colonial, and the +matron is a brick. Yes, I'll come." + +"Hurrah!" said Peter. "I tell you what: I'll meet you at the +cross-roads below the hospital and bring you on. Will that do? What +time? Five-thirty?" + +"Heavens! do you dine at five-thirty?" demanded Julie. + +"Well, not quite, but we've got to get down," said Peter, laughing. + +"All right," said Julie, "five-thirty, and the saints preserve us. Look +here, I shall chance it and come in mufti if possible. No one knows me +here." + +"Splendid!" said Peter. "Good-bye, five-thirty." + +"Good-bye," said Langton; "we'll go and arrange our menu." + +"There must be champagne," called Julie merrily over her shoulder, and +catching his eye. + +The two men watched her make for the car across the sunlit square, then +they strolled round it towards a cafe. "Come on," said Langton; "let's +have an appetiser." + +From the little marble-topped table Peter watched the car drive away. +Julie was laughing over something with another girl. It seemed to +conclude the morning, somehow. He raised his glass and looked at Langton. +"Well," he said, "here's to reality, wherever it is." + +"And here's to getting along without too much of it," said Langton, +smiling at him. + + * * * * * + +The dinner was a great success--at least, in the beginning. Julie wore a +frock of some soft brown stuff, and Peter could hardly keep his eyes off +her. He had never seen her out of uniform before, and although she was +gay enough, she said and did nothing very exciting. If Hilda had been +there she need hardly have behaved differently, and for a while Peter was +wholly delighted. Then it began to dawn on him that she was playing up to +Langton, and that set in train irritating thoughts. He watched the other +jealously, and noticed how the girl drew him out to speak of his travels, +and how excellently he did it, leaning back at coffee with his cigarette, +polite, pleasant, attractive. Julie, who usually smoked cigarette after +cigarette furiously, only, however, getting through about half of each, +now refused a second, and glanced at the clock about 8.30. + +"Oh," she said, "I must go." + +Peter remonstrated. "If you can stay out later at Havre," he said, "why +not here?" + +She laughed lightly. "I'm reforming," she said, "in the absence of bad +companions. Besides, they are used to my being later at Havre, but here I +might be spotted, and then there would be trouble. Would you fetch my +coat, Captain Graham?" + +Peter went obediently, and they all three moved out into the court. + +"Come along and see her home, Langton," he said, though he hardly knew +why he included the other. + +"Thanks," said his friend; "but if Miss Gamelyn will excuse me, I ought +not. I've got some reading I must do for to-morrow, and I want to write a +letter or two as well. You'll be an admirable escort, Graham." + +"Good-night," said Julie, holding out her hand; "perhaps we shall meet +again some time. One is always running up against people in France. And +thank you so much for your share of the entertainment." + +In a few seconds Peter and she were outside. The street was much +darkened, and there was no moon. They walked in silence for a little. +Suddenly he stopped. "Wouldn't you like a cab?" he said; "we might be +able to get one." + +Julie laughed mischievously, and Peter gave a little start in the dark. +It struck him that this was the old laugh and that he had not heard it +that night before. "It's convenient, of course," she said mockingly. "Do +get one by all means. But last time I came home with you in a cab, you +let me finish alone. I thought that was to be an invariable rule." + +"Oh, don't Julie," said Peter. + +Her tone changed. "Why not?" she demanded. "Solomon, what's made you so +glum to-night? You were cheerful enough when you met me, and when we +began; then you got silent. What's the matter?" + +"Nothing," he said. + +She slipped her hand in his arm. "There is something," she said. "Do tell +me." + +"Do you like Langton?" he asked. + +"Oh, immensely--why? Oh, Lord, Solomon, what do you mean?" + +"You were different in his presence, Julie, from anything you've been +before." + +They took a few paces in silence; then Peter had an idea, and glanced at +her. She was laughing silently to herself. He let her hand fall from his +arm, and looked away. He knew he was behaving like an ass, but he could +not help it. + +She stopped suddenly. "Peter," she said, "I want to talk to you. Take me +somewhere where it's possible." + +"At this hour of the evening? What about being late?" + +She gave a little stamp with her foot, then laughed again. "What a boy it +is!" she said. "Don't you know anywhere to go?" + +Peter hesitated; then he made up his mind. There was an hotel he knew of, +out of the main street, of none too good a reputation. Some men had taken +Langton and him there, once, in the afternoon, between the hours in which +drinks were legally sold, and they had gone through the hall into a +little back-room that was apparently partly a sitting-room, partly part +of the private rooms of the landlord, and had been served there. He +recalled the description of one of the men: "It's a place to know. You +can always get a drink, and take in anyone you please." + +"Come on, then," he said, and turned down a back-street. + +"Where in the world are you taking me?" demanded Julie. "I shall have no +reputation left if this gets out." + +"Nor shall I," said Peter. + +"Nor you will; what a spree! Do you think it's worth it, Peter?" + +Under a shaded lamp they were passing at the moment, he glanced at her, +and his pulses raced! "Good God, Julie!" he said, "you could do anything +with me." + +She chuckled with laughter, her brown eyes dancing. "Maybe," she said, +"but I'm out to talk to you for your good now." + +They turned another corner, into an old street, and under an arch. Peter +walked forward to the hotel entrance, and entered. There was a woman in +the office, who glanced up, and looked, first at Peter, then at Julie. On +seeing her behind him, she came forward. "What can I do for monsieur?" +she asked. + +"Good-evening, madame," said Peter. "I was here the other day. Give us a +bottle of wine in that little room at the back, will you?" + +"Why, certainly, monsieur," said she. "Will madame follow me? It is this +way." + +She opened, the door, and switched on the light, "Shall I light the fire, +madame?" she demanded. + +Julie beamed on her. "Ah, yes; that would be jolly," she said. "And the +wine, madame--Beaune." + +The woman smiled and bowed. "Let madame but seat herself and it shall +come," she said, and went out. + +Julie took off her hat, and walked to the glass, patting her hair. "Give +me a cigarette, my dear," she said. "It was jolly hard only to smoke one +to-night." + +Peter opened and handed her his case in silence, then pulled up a big +chair. There was a knock at the door, and a girl came in with the wine +and glasses, which she set on the table, and, then knelt down to light +the fire. She withdrew and shut the door. They were alone. + +Peter was still standing. Julie glanced at him, and pointed to a chair +opposite. "Give me a drink, and then go and sit there," she said. + +He obeyed. She pulled her skirts up high to the blaze and pushed one foot +out to the logs, and sat there, provocative, sipping her wine and puffing +little puffs of smoke from her cigarette. "Now, then," she said, "what +did I do wrong to-night?" + +Peter was horribly uncomfortable. He felt how little he knew this girl, +and he felt also how much he loved her. + +"Nothing, dear," he said; "I was a beast." + +"Well," she said, "if you won't tell me, I'll tell you. I was quite +proper to-night, immensely and intensely proper, and you didn't like it. +You had never seen me so. You thought, too, that I was making up to your +friend. Isn't that so?" + +Peter nodded. He marvelled that she should know so well, and he wondered +what was coming. + +"I wonder what you really think of me, Peter," she went on. "I suppose +you think I never can be serious--no, I won't say serious--conventional. +But you're very stupid; we all of us can be, and must be sometimes. You +asked me just now what I thought of your friend--well, I'll tell you. +He is as different from you as possible. He has his thoughts, no doubt, +but he prefers to be very tidy. He takes refuge in the things you throw +overboard. He's not at all my sort, and he's not yours either, in a way. +Goodness knows what will happen to either of us, but he'll be Captain +Langton to the end of his days. I envy that sort of person intensely, +and when I meet him I put on armour. See?" + +Peter stared at her. "How is he different from Donovan?" he asked. + +"Donovan! Oh, Lord, Peter, how dull you are! Donovan has hardly a thought +in his head about anything except Donovan. He was born a jolly good sort, +and he's sampled pretty well everything. He's cool as a cucumber, though +he has his passions like everyone else. If you keep your head, you can +say or do anything with Donovan. But Langton is deliberate. He knows +about things, and he refuses and chooses. I didn't want ..." She broke +off. "Peter," she said savagely, "in two minutes that man would know more +about me than you do, if I let him." + +He had never seen her so. The childish brown eyes had a look in them that +reminded him of an animal caught in a trap. He sprang up and dropped on +his knees by her side, catching her hand. + +"Oh, Julie, don't," he said. "What do you mean? What is there about you +that I don't know? How are you different from either of them?" + +She threw her cigarette away, and ran her fingers through his hair, then +made a gesture, almost as if pushing something away, Peter thought, and +laughed her old ringing trill of laughter. + +"Lor', Peter, was I tragic? I didn't mean to be, my dear. There's a lot +about me that you don't know, but something that you've guessed. I can't +abide shams and conventions really. Let's have life, I say, whatever it +is. Heavens! I've seen street girls with more in them than I pretended to +your friend to have in me to-night. They at least deal with human nature +in the raw. But that's why I love you; there's no need to pretend to you, +partly because, at bottom, you like real things as much as I, and partly +because--oh, never mind." + +"Julie, I do mind--tell me," he insisted. + +Her face changed again. "Not now, Peter," she said. "Perhaps one day--who +can say? Meantime, go on liking me, will you?" + +"Like you!" he exclaimed, springing up, "Why, I adore you! I love you! +Oh, Julie, I love you! Kiss me, darling, now, quick!" + +She pushed him off. "Not now," she cried; "I've got to have my revenge. +I know why you wouldn't come home in the cab! Come! we'll clink glasses, +but that's all there is to be done to-night!" She sprang up, flushed and +glowing, and held out an empty glass. + +Peter filled hers and his, and they stood opposite to each other. She +looked across the wine at him, and it seemed to him that he read a +longing and a passion in her eyes, deep down below the merriness that was +there now. "Cheerio, old boy," she said, raising hers. "And 'here's to +the day when your big boots and my little shoes lie outside the same +closed door!'" + +"Julie!" he said, "you don't mean it!" + +"Don't I? How do you know, old sober-sides. Come, buck up, Solomon; we've +been sentimental long enough. I'd like to go to a music-hall now or do a +skirt-dance. But neither's really possible; certainly not the first, and +you'd be shocked at the second. I'm half a mind to shock you, though, +only my skirt's not long and wide enough, and I've not enough lace +underneath. I'll spare you. Come on!" + +She seized her hat and put it on. They went out into the hall. There +was a man in uniform there, at the office, and a girl, French and +unmistakable, who glanced at Julie, and then turned away. Julie nodded to +madame, and did not glance at the man, but as she passed the girl she +said distinctly, "Bon soir, mademoiselle." The girl started and turned +towards her. Julie smiled sweetly and passed on. + +Peter took her arm in the street, for it was quite dark and deserted. + +"Why did you do that?" he said. + +"What?" she demanded. + +"Speak to that girl. You know what she is?" + +"I do--a poor devil that's playing with Fate for the sake of a laugh and +a bit of ribbon. I'm jolly sorry for her, for they are both worth a great +deal, and it's hard to be cheated into thinking you've got them when Fate +is really winning the deal. And I saw her face before she turned away. +Why do you think she turned away, Peter? Not because she was ashamed, but +because she is beginning to know that Fate wins. Oh, la! la! what a +world! Let's be more cheerful. _'There's a long, long trail a-winding.'_" +she hummed. + +Peter laughed. "Oh, my dear," he said, "was there ever anyone like you?" + +Langton was reading in his room when Peter looked in to say good-night. + +"Hullo!" he said. "See her home?" + +"Yes," said Peter. "What did you think of her?" + +"She's fathoms deep, I should say. But I should take care if I were you, +my boy. It's all very well to eat and drink with publicans and sinners, +though, as I told you, it's better no one should know. But they are +dangerous company." + +"Why especially?" demanded Peter. + +Langton stretched himself. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "Perhaps because +society's agin 'em." + +"Look here, Langton," said Peter. "Do you hear what I say? _Damn_ +society! Besides, do you think your description applies to that girl?" + +Langton smiled. "No," he said, "I shouldn't think so, but she's not your +sort, Peter. When you take that tunic off, you've got to put on a black +coat. Whatever conclusions you come to, don't forget that." + +"Have I?" said Peter; "I wonder." + +Langton got up. "Of course you have," he said. "Life's a bit of a farce, +but one's got to play it. See here, I believe in facing facts and getting +one's eyes open, but not in making oneself a fool. Nothing's worth that." + +"Isn't it?" said Peter; and again, "I wonder." + +"Well, I don't, and at any rate I'm for bed. Good-night." + +"Good-night," said Peter; "I'm off too. But I don't agree with you. I'm +inclined to think exactly the opposite--that anything worth having is +worth making oneself a fool over. What is a fool, anyway? Good-night." + +He closed the door, and Langton walked over to the window to open it. He +stood there a few minutes listening to the silence. Then a cock crew +somewhere, and was answered far away by another. "Yes," said Langton to +himself, "what is a fool, anyway?" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The Lessing family sat at dinner, and it was to be observed that some of +those incredible wonders at which Peter Graham had once hinted to Hilda +had come about. There were only three courses, and Mr. Lessing had but +one glass of wine, for one thing; for another he was actually in uniform, +and was far more proud of his corporal's stripes than he had previously +been of his churchwarden's staff of office. Nor was he only in the +Volunteers; he was actually in training to some extent, and the war had +at any rate done him good. His wife was not dressed for dinner either; +she had just come in from a war committee of some sort. A solitary maid +waited on them, and they had already given up fires in the dining-room. +Not that Mr. Lessing's income had appreciably diminished, but, quite +honestly, he and his were out to win the war. He had come to the +conclusion at last that business could not go on as usual, but, routed +out of that stronghold, he had made for himself another. The war was +now to him a business. He viewed it in that light. + +"We must stop them," he was saying. "Mark my words, they'll never get to +Amiens. Did you see Haig's last order to the troops? Not another inch was +to be given at any cost. We shan't give either. We've _got_ to win this +war; there's too much at stake for us to lose. Whoever has to foot the +bill for this business is ruined, and it's not going to be Great Britain. +They were saying in the Hall to-night that the Army is as cheerful as +possible: that's the best sign. I doubt the German Army is. Doesn't +Graham say anything about it, Hilda?" + +"No, father," said Hilda shortly, and bent over her plate. + +"'Xtraordinary thing. He's a smart chap, and I should have thought he'd +have been full of it. Perhaps he's too far back." + +"He was in a big town he doesn't name the other day, in an air-raid, and +a man was killed in his carriage." + +"Good Lord! you don't say so? When did you hear that? I thought we had +command of the air." + +"I got a letter to-night, father. He just mentioned that, but he doesn't +say much else about it. He's at Abbeville now, on the Somme, and he says +the Germans come over fairly often by night." + +"Impossible!" snorted the old man, "I have it on the best possible +authority that our air service is completely up to date now, and far +better than the German. He must be exaggerating. They would never allow +the enemy to out-distance us in so important a department. What else does +he say?" + +"Oh, nothing;" said Hilda, "or at least nothing about the war in a way. +It's full of--of his work." She stopped abruptly. + +"Well, well," said Mr. Lessing, "I was against his going at first; but +it's all shoulders to the wheel now, and it was plain he ought to see a +little life out there. A young man who doesn't won't have much of a look +in afterwards--that's how _I_ reasoned it. And he works hard, does +Graham; I've always said that for him, I expect he's of great service to +them. Eh, Hilda?" + +"I don't know," said the girl; "he doesn't say. But he's been chosen for +some special work, lecturing or something, and that's why he's at +Abbeville." + +"Ah! Good! Special work, eh? He'll go far yet, that fellow. I don't know +that I'd have chosen him for you, Hilda, at first, but this business has +shaken us all up, and I shouldn't be surprised if Graham comes to the +front over it." He stopped as the maid came in, "I think I'll have my +coffee in the study, my dear," he said to Mrs. Lessing; "I have some +reading to do." + +When the two women were once more alone Mrs. Lessing put her cup down, +and spoke. "What is it, dear?" she questioned. + +Hilda did not look at her. The two, indeed, understood each other very +well. "I can't tell you here, mother," she said. + +"Come, then, dear," said Mrs. Lessing, rising. "Let's go to my room. Your +father will be busy for some time, and we shall not be disturbed there." + +She led the way, and lit a small gas fire. "I can't be cold in my +bedroom," she said; "and though I hate these things, they are better +than nothing. Now, dear, what is it?" + +Hilda seated herself on a footstool on the other side of the fire, and +stared into it. The light shone on her fair skin and hair, and Mrs. +Lessing contemplated her with satisfaction from several points of view. +For one thing, Hilda was so sensible.... + +"What is it?" she asked again. "Your father saw nothing--men don't; but +you can't hide from me, dear, that your letter has troubled you. Is Peter +in trouble?" + +Hilda shook her head. Then she said: "Well, at least, mother, not that +sort of trouble. I told father truly; he's been picked for special +service." + +"Well, then, what is it?" Mrs. Lessing was a trifle impatient. + +"Mother," said Hilda, "I've known that he has not been happy ever since +his arrival in France, but I've never properly understood why. Peter is +queer in some ways, you know. You remember that sermon of his? He won't +be content with things; he's always worrying. And now he writes +dreadfully. He says..." She hesitated. Then, suddenly, she pulled out the +letter. "Listen, mother," she said, and read what Peter had written in +the club until the end. "'I am going to eat and drink with publicans and +sinners; maybe I shall find my Master still there.'" + +If Langton could have seen Mrs. Lessing he would have smiled that cynical +smile of his with much satisfaction. She was frankly horrified--rendered, +in fact, almost speechless. + +"Hilda!" she exclaimed. "What a thing to write to you! But what does he +mean? Has he forgotten that he is a clergyman? Why, it's positively +blasphemous! He is speaking of Christ, I suppose. My poor girl, he must +be mad. Surely you see that, dear." + +Hilda stared on into the fire, and made no reply. Her mother hardly +needed one, "Has he met another woman, Hilda?" she demanded. + +"I don't know; he doesn't say so," said Hilda miserably. "But anyhow, I +don't see that that matters." + +"Not matter, girl! Are you mad too? He is your fiance, isn't he? Really, +I think I must speak to your father." + +Hilda turned her head slowly, and mother and daughter looked at each +other. Mrs. Lessing was a woman of the world, but she was a good mother, +and she read in her daughter's eyes what every mother has to read sooner +or later. It was as one woman to another, and not as mother to daughter, +that she continued lamely: "Well, Hilda, what do you make of it all? What +are you going to do?" + +The girl looked away again, and a silence fell between them. Then she +said, speaking in short, slow sentences: + +"I will tell you what I make of it, mother. Peter's gone beyond me, I +think, now, that I have always feared a little that he might. Of course, +he's impetuous and headstrong, but it is more than that. He feels +differently from me, from all of us. I can see that, though I don't +understand him a bit. I thought" (her voice faltered) "he loved me more. +He knows how I wanted him to get on in the Church, and how I would have +helped him. But that's nothing to him, or next to nothing. I think he +doesn't love me at all, mother, and never really did." + +Mrs. Lessing threw her head back. "Then he's a fool, my dear," she said +emphatically. "You're worth loving; you know it. I should think no more +about him, Hilda." + +Hilda's hands tightened round her knees. "I can't do that," she said. + +Mrs. Lessing was impatient again. "Do you mean, Hilda, that if he +persists in this--this madness, if he gives up the Church, for example, +you will not break off the engagement? Mind you, that is the point. Every +young man must have a bit of a fling, possibly even clergymen, I suppose, +and they get over it. A sensible girl knows that. But if he ruins his +prospects--surely, Hilda, you are not going to be a fool?" + +The word had been spoken again. Peter had had something to say on it, and +now the gods gave Hilda her chance. She stretched her fine hands out to +the fire, and a new note came into her voice. + +"A fool, mother? Oh no, I shan't be a fool. A fool would follow him to +the end of the world. A fool of a woman would give him all he wants for +the sake of giving, and be content with nothing in return. I see that. +But I'm not made for that sort of foolery.... No, I shan't be a fool." + +Mrs. Lessing could not conceal her satisfaction. "Well, I am sure I am +very glad to hear you say it, and so would your father be. We have not +brought you up carefully for nothing, Hilda. You are a woman now, and I +don't believe in trying to force a woman against her will, but I am +heartily glad, my dear, that you are so sensible. When you are as old as +I am and have a daughter of your own, you will be glad that you have +behaved so to-night." + +Hilda got up, and put her hands behind her head, which was a favourite +posture of hers. She stood looking down at her mother with a curious +expression on her face. Mrs. Lessing could make nothing of it; she merely +thought Hilda "queer"; she had travelled farther than she knew from +youth. + +"Shall I, mother?" said Hilda. "Yes, I expect I shall. I have been +carefully brought up, as you say, so carefully that even now I can only +just see what a fool might do, and I know quite well that I can't do it. +After a while I shall no more see it than you do. I shall even probably +forget that I ever did. So that is all. And because I love him, really, +I don't think I can even say 'poor Peter!' That's curious, isn't it, +mother?... Well, I think I'll go to my room for a little. I won't come in +again. Good-night." + +She bent and kissed Mrs. Lessing. Her mother held her arms a moment more. +"Then, what are you going to do?" she demanded. + +Hilda freed herself, "Write and try to persuade him not to be a fool +either, I think. Not that it's any good. And then--wait and see." She +walked to the floor, "Of course, this is just between us two, isn't it, +dear?" she said, playing with the handle. + +"Of course," said her mother. "But do be sensible, dear, and don't wait +too long. It is much better not to play with these things--much better. +And do tell me how things go, darling, won't you?" + +"Oh yes," said Hilda slowly, "Oh yes I'll tell you.... Good-night." + +She passed out and closed the door gently "I wonder why I can't cry +to-night?" she asked herself as she went to her room, and quite honestly +she did not know. + +Across the water Peter's affairs were speeding up. If Hilda could have +seen him that night she would probably have wept without difficulty, but +for a much more superficial reason than the reason why she could not weep +in London. And it came about in this way. + +On the morning after the dinner Peter was moody, and declared he would +not go down to the office, but would take a novel out to the canal. He +was in half a mind to go up and call at the hospital, but something held +him back. Reflection showed him how near he had been to the fatal kiss +the night before, and he did not wish, or, with the morning, he thought +he did not wish, to see Julie so soon again. So he got his novel and went +out to the canal, finding a place where last year's leaves still lay +thick, and one could lie at ease and read. We do these things all our +days, and never learn the lesson. + +Half-way through the morning he looked up to see Langton striding along +towards him. He was walking quickly, with the air of one who brings news, +and he delivered his message as soon as they were within earshot of each +other. "Good news, Graham," he called out. "This tomfoolery is over. +They've heard from H.Q. that the whole stunt is postponed, and we've all +to go back to our bases. Isn't it like 'em?" he demanded, as he came up. +"Old Jackson in the office is swearing like blazes. He's had all his maps +made and plans drawn up, etcetera and etcetera, and now they're so much +waste-paper. Jolly fortunate, any road." He sat down and got out a pipe. + +Peter shut his book. "I'm glad," he said. "I'm sick of foolin' round +here. Not but what it isn't a decent enough place, but I prefer the +other. There's more doing. When do we go?" + +"To-morrow. They're getting our movement orders, yours to Havre, mine to +Rouen. I put in a spoke for you, to get one via Rouen, but I don't know +if you will. It's a vile journey otherwise." + +"By Jove!" cried Peter. "I've an idea! Miss Gamelyn's troop of +motor-buses goes back to Havre to-morrow empty. Why shouldn't I travel +on them? Think I could work it?" + +Langton puffed solemnly. "Sure, I should think," he said, "being a padre, +anyway." + +"What had I best do?" + +"Oh, I should go and see Jackson and get him to 'phone the hospital for +you--that is, if you really want to go that way." + +"It's far better than that vile train," said Peter. "Besides, one can see +the country, which I love. And I've never been in Dieppe, and they're to +go through there and pick up some casualties." + +"Just so," said Langton, still smoking. + +"Well," said Peter, "reckon I'll go and see about it. Jackson's a decent +old stick, but I'd best do it before he tackles the R.T.O. Coming?" + +"No," said Langton. "Leave that novel, and come back for me. You won't be +long." + +"Right-o," said Peter, and set off. + +It was easily done. Jackson had no objections, and rang up the hospital +while Peter waited. Oh yes, certainly they could do it. What was the +name? Captain. Graham, C.F. certainly. He must be at the hospital +early--eight-thirty the next morning. That all right? Thank you. + +"Thank you," said Peter. "Motoring's a long sight better than the train +these days, and I'll get in quicker, too, as a matter of fact, or at any +rate just as quickly." He turned to go, but a thought struck him. "Have +you an orderly to spare?" he asked. + +"Any quantity," said the other bitterly. "They've been detailed for +weeks, and done nothing. You can have one with pleasure. It'll give the +perisher something to do." + +"Thanks," said Peter; "I want to send a note, that's all. May I write it +here?" + +He was given pen and paper, and scribbled a little note to Julie. He did +not know who else might be on the lorry, or if she would want to appear +to know him. The orderly was called and despatched and he left the place +for the last time. + +Langton and he walked out to St. Riquier in the afternoon, had tea there, +and got back to dinner. A note was waiting for Peter, a characteristic +one. + +"DEAREST SOLOMON (it ran), + +"You are really waking up! There will be three of us nurses in one lorry, +and they're sure to start you off in another. We lunch at Eu, and I'll be +delighted to see you. Then you can go on in our car. Dieppe's on the +knees of the gods, as you say, but probably we can pull off something. + +"JULIE." + +He smiled and put it in his pocket. Langton said nothing till the coffee +and liqueurs came in. Then he lit a cigarette and held the match out to +Peter. "Wonder if we shall meet again?" he said. + +"Oh, I expect so," said Peter. "Write, anyway, won't you? I'll likely get +a chance to come to Rouen." + +"And I likely won't be there. I'm putting in again for another job. +They're short of men now, and want equipment officers for the R.A.F. It's +a stunt for which engineering's useful, and I may get in. I don't suppose +I'll see much of the fun, but it's better than bossing up a labour +company, any road." + +"Sportsman," said Peter. "I envy you. Why didn't you tell me? I've half a +mind to put in too. Do you think I'd have a chance?" + +"No," said Langton brutally. "Besides, it's not your line. You know what +yours is; stick to it." + +"And you know that I'm not so sure that I can," said Peter. + +"Rot!" said the other. "You can if you like. You won't gain by running +away. Only I give you this bit of advice, old son: go slow. You're so +damned hot-headed! You can't remake the world to order in five minutes; +and if you could, I bet it wouldn't be a much better old world. We've +worried along for some time moderately well. Don't be too ready to turn +down the things that have worked with some success, at any rate, for the +things that have never been tried." + +Peter smoked in silence. Then he said: "Langton you're a bit different +from what you were. In a way, it's you who have set me out on this +racket, and it's you who encouraged me to try and get down to +rock-bottom. You've always been a cautious old rotter, but you're more +than cautious now. Why?" + +Langton leaned over and touched the other's tunic pocket in which lay +Julie's note. Then he leaned back and went on with his cigarette. + +Peter flushed. "It's too late," he said judicially, flicking off his ash. + +"So? Well, I'm sorry, frankly--sorry for her and sorry for you. But if it +is, I'll remember my own wisdom: it's no use meddling with such things. +For all that, you're a fool, Peter, as I told you last night." + +"Just so. And I asked what was a fool." + +"And I didn't answer. I reckon fools can be of many sorts. Your sort of +fool chucks the world over for the quest of an ideal." + +"Thank you," said Peter quietly. + +"You needn't. That fool is a real fool, and bigger than most. Ideals are +ideals, and one can't realise them. It's waste of time to try." + +"Is it?" said Peter. "Well, at any rate, I don't know that I'm out after +them much. I don't see any. All I know is that I've looked in the likely +places, and now I'll look in the unlikely." + +Langton ground his cigarette-end in his coffee-cup. "You will," he said, +"whatever I say.... Have another drink? After all, there's no need to +'turn down the empty glass' yet." + +They did not see each other in the morning, and Peter made his way early +to the hospital as arranged. The P.M.O. met him, and he was put in +nominal charge of the three Red-Cross ambulance-cars. While he was +talking to the doctor the three nurses came out and got in, Julie not +looking in his direction; then he climbed up next the driver of the +first car. "Cheerio," said the P.M.O., and they were off. + +It was a dull day, and mists hung over the water-meadows by the Somme. +For all that Peter enjoyed himself immensely. They ran swiftly through +the little villages, under the sweeping trees all new-budded into green, +and soon had vistas of the distant sea. The driver of Peter's car was an +observant fellow, and he knew something of gardening. It was he who +pointed out that the fruit-trees had been indifferently pruned or not +pruned at all, and that there were fields no longer under the plough that +had been plainly so not long before. In a word, the country bore its war +scars, although it needed a clever eye to see them. + +But Peter had little thought for this. Now and again, at a corner, he +would glance back, his mind on Julie in the following car, while every +church tower gave him pause for thought. He tried to draw the man beside +him on religion, but without any success, though he talked freely enough +of other things. He was for the Colonies after the war, he said. He'd +knocked about a good deal in France, and the taste for travel had come to +him. Canada appeared a land of promise; one could get a farm easily, and +his motor knowledge would be useful on a farm these days. Yes, he had a +pal out there, a Canadian who had done his bit and been invalided out of +it. They corresponded, and he expected to get in with him, the one's +local knowledge eking out the other's technical. No, he wasn't for +marrying yet awhile; he'd wait till he'd got a place for the wife and +kiddies. Then he would. The thought made him expand a bit, and Peter +smiled to himself as he thought of his conversation with Langton over the +family group. It struck him to test the man, and as they passed a wayside +Calvary, rudely painted, he drew his attention to it. "What do you think +of that?" he asked. + +The man glanced at it, and then away. "It's all right for them as like +it," he said. "Religion's best in a church, it seems to me. I've seen +chaps mock at them crucifixes, sir, same as they wouldn't if they'd only +been in church." + +"Yes," said Peter; "but I suppose some men have been helped by them who +never would have been if they had only been in church. But don't you +think they're rather gaudy?" + +"Gaudy, sir? Meanin' 'ighly painted? No, not as I knows on. They're more +like what happened, I reckon, than them brass crosses we have in our +churches." + +They ran into Eu for lunch, and drew up in the market-square. Peter +went round to the girls' car, greeted Julie, and was introduced. He +led them to an old inn in the square, and they sat down to luncheon +in very good humour. The other girls were ordinary enough, and Julie +rather subdued for her. Afterwards they spent an hour in the church and +a picture-postcard shop, and it was there that Julie whispered: "Go on +in your own car. At Dieppe, go to the Hotel Trois Poissons and wait for +me. I found out yesterday that a woman I know is a doctor in Dieppe, and +she lives there. I'll get leave easily to call. Then I can see you. If +we travel together these girls'll talk; they're just the sort." + +Peter nodded understanding, and they drifted apart. He went out to see if +the cars were ready and returned to call the nurses, and in a few minutes +they were off again. + +The road now ran through forests nearly all the way, except where +villages had cleared a space around them, as was plain to see. They +crossed little streams, and finally came downhill through the forest into +the river valley that leads to Dieppe. It was still early, and Peter +stopped the cars to suggest that they might have a look at the castle of +Arques-le-Bataille. The grand old pile kept them nearly an hour, and they +wandered about the ruins to their hearts' content. Julie would climb a +buttress of the ancient keep when their guide had gone on with the +others, and Peter went up after her. She was as lissom as a boy and +seemingly as strong, swinging up by roots of ivy and the branches of a +near tree, in no wise impeded by her short skirts. From the top one had, +indeed, a glorious view. The weather had cleared somewhat, and one could +see every bit of the old castle below, the village at its feet, and the +forest across the little stream out of which the Duke of Mayenne's +infantry had debouched that day of battle from which the village took +its name. + +"They had some of the first guns in the castle, which was held for Henry +of Navarre," explained Peter, "and they did great execution. I suppose +they fired one stone shot in about every five minutes, and killed a man +about every half-hour. The enemy were more frightened than hurt, I should +think. Anyway, Henry won." + +"Wasn't he the King who thought Paris worth more than a Mass?" she +demanded. + +"Yes," said Peter, watching her brown eyes as she stared out over the +plain. + +"I wonder what he thinks now," she said. + +He laughed. "You're likely to wonder," he said. + +"Funny old days," said Julie. "I suppose there were girls in this castle +watching the fight. I expect they cared more for the one man each +half-hour the cannon hit than for either Paris or the Mass. That's the +way of women, Peter, and a damned silly way it is! Come on, let's go. +I'll get down first, if you please." + +On the short road remaining Peter asked his chauffeur if he knew the +Trois Poissons, and, finding that he did, had the direction pointed out. +They ran through the town to the hospital, and Peter handed his cars +over. "I'll sleep in town," he said. "What time ought we to start in the +morning?" He was told, and walked away. Julie had disappeared. + +He found the Trois Poissons without difficulty, and made his way to the +sitting-room, a queer room opening from the pavement direct on the one +side, and from the hall of the hotel on the other. It had a table down +the middle, a weird selection of chairs, and a piano. A small woman was +sitting in a chair reading the _Tatler_ and smoking. An empty glass +stood beside her. + +She looked up as he came in, and he noticed R.A.M.C. badges. +"Good-evening," he said cheerily. + +"Good-evening, padre," she replied, plainly willing to talk. "Where have +you sprung from?" + +"Abbeville via Eu in a convoy of Red Cross cars," he said, "and I feel +like a sun-downer. Won't you have another with me?" + +"Sure thing," she said, and he ordered a couple from the French maid who +came in answer to his ring. "Do you live here?" he asked. + +"For my sins I do," she said. "I doctor Waac's, and I don't think much of +it. A finer, heartier lot of women I never saw. Epsom salts is all they +want. A child could do it." + +Peter laughed. "Well, I don't see why you should grumble," he said. + +"Don't you? Where's the practice? This business out here is the best +chance for doctors in a lifetime, and I have to strip strapping girls +hopelessly and endlessly." + +"You do, do you?" said a voice in the doorway, and there stood Julie. +"Well, at any rate you oughtn't to talk about it like that to my +gentleman friends, especially padres. How do you do, my dear?" + +"Julie, by all that's holy! Where have you sprung from?" + +She glanced from one to the other. "From Abbeville via Eu in a convoy of +Red Cross cars, I dare bet," she said. + +"Julie, you're beyond me. If you weren't so strong I'd smack you, but as +it is, give me another kiss. _And_ introduce us. There may as well be +propriety somewhere." + +They sorted themselves out and sat down. "What do you think of my rig?" +demanded Dr. Melville (as Julie had introduced her). + +"Toppin'," said Julie critically. "But what in the world is it? Chiefly +Waac, with three pukka stars and an R.A.M.C. badge. Teanie, how dare you +do it?" + +"I dare do all that doth become a woman," she answered complacently. "And +it doth, doth it not? Skirt's a trifle short, perhaps," she added, +sticking out a leg and examining the effect critically, "but upper's +eminently satisfactory." + +Julie leaned over and prodded her. "No corsets?" she inquired innocently. + +"Julie, you're positively indecent. You must have tamed your padre +completely. You're not married by any chance?" she added suddenly. + +Julie screamed with laughter. "Oh, Teanie, you'll be the death of me," +she said at last. "Solomon, are we married? I don't think so, Teanie. +There's never no telling these days, but I can't recollect it." + +"Well, it strikes me you ought to be if you're jogging round the country +together," said the other, her eyes twinkling. "But if you're not, take +warning, padre. A girl that talks about corsets in public isn't +respectable, especially as she doesn't wear them herself, except in the +evening, for the sake of other things. Or she used not to. But perhaps +you know?" + +Peter tried to look comfortable, but he was completely out of his depth. +He finished his drink with a happy inspiration, and ordered another. That +down, he began to feel more capable of entering into the spirit of these +two. They were the sort he wanted to know, both of them, women about as +different from those he had met as they could possibly be. + +Another man dropped in after a while, so the talk became general. The +atmosphere was very free and easy, bantering, careless, jolly, and Peter +expanded in it. Julie led them all. She was never at a loss, and +apparently had no care in the world. + +The two girls and Peter went together to dinner and sat at the same +table. They talked a good deal together, and Peter gathered they had come +to know each other at a hospital in England. They were full of +reminiscences. + +"Do you remember ducking Pockett?" Teanie asked Julie. + +"Lor', I should think I do! Tell Peter. He won't be horrified unless you +go into details. If I cough, Solomon, you're to change the subject. Carry +on, Teanie." + +"Well, Pockett was a nurse of about the last limit. She was fearfully +snobby, which nobody of that name ought to be, and she ruled her pros. +with a rod of iron. I expect that was good for them, and I say nothing +as to that, but she was a beast to the boys. We had some poor chaps in +who were damnably knocked about, and one could do a lot for them in +roundabout ways. Regulations are made to be broken in some cases, I +think. But she was a holy terror. Sooner than call her, the boys would +endure anything, but some of us knew, and once she caught Julie here..." + +"It wasn't--it was you, Teanie." + +"Oh, well, one of us, anyway, in her ward when she was on night duty, +sitting with a poor chap who pegged out a few days after. It soothed him +to sit and hold her hand. Well, anyway, she was furious and reported it. +There was a bit of a row--had to be, I suppose, as it was against +regulations--but thank God the P.M.O. knew his job, so there was only a +strafe with the tongue in the cheek. However, we swore revenge, and we +had it--eh, Julie?" + +"We did. Go on. It was you who thought of it." + +"Well, we filled a bath with tepid water and then went to her room one +night. She was asleep, and never heard us. We had a towel round her head +in two twinks, and carried her by the legs and arms to the bathroom. +Julie had her legs, and held 'em well up, so that down went her head +under water. She couldn't yell then. When we let her up, I douched her +with cold water, and then we bolted. We saw to it that there wasn't a +towel in the bathroom, and we locked her bedroom door. Oh, lor', poor +soul, but it was funny! She met an orderly in the corridor, and he nearly +had a fit, and I don't wonder, for her wet nightie clung to her figure +like a skin. She had to try half a dozen rooms before she got anyone to +help her, and then, when she got back, we'd ragged her room to blazes. +She never said a word, and left soon after. Ever hear of her again, +Julie?" + +"No," said she, looking more innocent than ever, Peter thought; "but I +expect she's made good somewhere. She must have had something in her or +she'd have kicked up a row." + +Miss Melville was laughing silently. "You innocent babe unborn," she +said; "never shall I forget how you held...." + +"Come on, Captain Graham," said Julie, getting up; "you've got to see me +home, and I want a nice walk by the sea-front." + +They went out together, and stood at the hotel door in the little street. +There was a bit of a moon, with clouds scurrying by, and when it shone +the road was damp and glistening in the moonlight. "What a heavenly +night!" said Julie. "Come on with us along the sea-front, Teanie--do!" + +Miss Melville smiled up at them. "I reckon you'd prefer to be alone," she +said. + +Peter glanced at Julie, and then protested. "No," he said; "do come on," +and Julie rewarded him with a smile. + +So they set out together. On the front the wind was higher, lashing the +waves, and the moonlight shone fitfully on the distant cliffs, the +harbour mouth, and the sea. The two girls clung together, and as Peter +walked by Julie she took his arm. Conversation was difficult as they +battled their way along the promenade. There was hardly a soul about, and +Peter felt the night to fit his mood. + +They went up once and down again, and at the Casino grounds Teanie +stopped them. "'Nough," she said; "I'm for home and bed. You two dears +can finish up without me." + +"Oh, we must see you home," said Peter. + +The doctor laughed. "Think I shall get stolen?" she demanded. "Someone +would have to get up pretty early for that. No, padre, I'm past the need +of being escorted, thanks. Good-night. Be good, Julie. We'll meet again +sometime, I hope. If not, keep smiling. Cheerio." + +She waved her hand and was gone in the night. "If there was ever a +plucky, unselfish, rattling good woman, there she goes," said Julie. +"I've known her sit up night after night with wounded men when she was +working like a horse all day. I've known her to help a drunken Tommy +into a cab and get him home, and quiet his wife into the bargain. I saw +her once walk off out of the Monico with a boy of a subaltern, who didn't +know what he was doing, and take him to her own flat, and put him to bed, +and get him on to the leave-train in time in the morning. She'd give away +her last penny, and you wouldn't know she'd done it. And yet she's not +the sort of woman you'd choose to run a mother's meeting, would you, +Solomon?" + +"Sure thing I wouldn't," said Peter, "not in my old parish, but I'm not +so sure I wouldn't in my new one." + +"What's your new one?" asked Julie curiously. + +"Oh, it hasn't a name," said Peter, "but it's pretty big. Something after +the style of John Wesley's parish, I reckon. And I'm gradually getting it +sized up." + +"Where do I come in, Solomon?" demanded Julie. + +They were passing by the big Calvary at the harbour gates, and there was +a light there. He stopped and turned so that the light fell on her. She +looked up at him, and so they stood a minute. He could hear the lash of +the waves, and the wind drumming in the rigging of the flagstaff near +them. Then, deliberately, he bent down, and kissed her on the lips. "I +don't know, Julie," he said, "but I believe you have the biggest part, +somehow." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +All that it is necessary to know of Hilda's return letter to Peter ran as +follows: + +"My Dear Boy, + +"Your letter from Abbeville reached me the day before yesterday, and I +have thought about nothing else since. It is plain to me that it is no +use arguing with you and no good reproaching you, for once you get an +idea into your head nothing but bitter experience will drive it out. But, +Peter, you must see that so far as I am concerned you are asking me to +choose between you and your strange ideas and all that is familiar and +dear in my life. You can't honestly expect me to believe that my Church +and my parents and my teachers are all wrong, and that, to put it mildly, +the very strange people you appear to be meeting in France are all right. +My dear Peter, do try and look at it sensibly. The story you told me of +the death of Lieutenant Jenks was terrible--terrible; it brings the war +home in all its ghastly reality; but really, you know, it was his fault +and not yours, and still less the fault of the Church of England, that he +did not want you when he came to die. If a man lives without God, he can +hardly expect to find Him at the point of sudden death. What you say +about Christ, too, utterly bewilders me. Surely our Church's teachings in +the Catechism and the Prayer-Book is Christian teaching, isn't it? +Nothing is perfect on earth, and the Church is human, but our Church +is certainly the best I know of. It is liberal, active, moderate, and--I +don't like the word, but after all it is a good one--respectable. I don't +know much about these things, but surely you of all people don't want to +go shouting in the street like a Salvation Army Captain. I can't see that +that is more 'in touch with reality.' Peter, what do you mean? Are not +St. John's, and the Canon, and my people, and myself, real? Surely, +Peter, our love is real, isn't it? Oh, how can you doubt that? + +"Darling boy, don't you think you are over-strained and over-worried? You +are in a strange country, among strange people, at a very peculiar time. +War always upsets everything and makes things abnormal. London, even, +isn't normal, but, as the Canon said the other day, a great many of the +things people do just now are due to reaction against strain and anxiety. +Can't you see this? Isn't there any clergyman you can go and talk to? +Your Presbyterian and other new friends and your visits to Roman Catholic +churches can't be any real help. + +"Peter, dear, for my sake, do, _do_ try to see things like this. I _hate_ +that bit in your letter about publicans and sinners. How can a clergyman +expect _them_ to help _him_? Surely you ought to avoid such people, not +seek their company. It is so like you to get hold of a text or two and +run it to death. It's not that I don't _trust_ you, but you are so easily +influenced, and you may equally easily go and do something that will +separate us and ruin your life. Peter, I hate to write like this, but I +can't help it...." + +Peter let the sheets fall from his hands and stared out of the little +window. The gulls were screaming and fighting over some refuse in the +harbour, and he watched the beat of their wings, fascinated. If only he, +too, could catch the wind and be up and away like that! + +He jumped up and paced up and down the floor restlessly, and he told +himself that Hilda was right and he was a cad and worse. Julie's kiss on +his lips burned there yet. That at any rate was wrong; by any standards +he had no right to behave so. How could he kiss her when he was pledged +to Hilda--Hilda to whom everyone had looked up, the capable, lady-like, +irreproachable Hilda, the Hilda to whom Park Lane and St. John's were +such admirable setting. And who was he, after all, to set aside all that +for which both those things stood? + +And yet.... He sat down by the little table and groaned. + +"What the dickens is the matter with you, padre?" + +Peter started and looked round. In the doorway stood Pennell, regarding +him with amusement. "Here am I trying to read, and you pacing up and down +like a wild beast. What the devil's up?" + +"The devil himself, that's what's up," said Peter savagely. "Look here, +Pen, come on down town and let's have a spree. I hate this place and this +infernal camp. It gets on my nerves. I must have a change. Will you come? +It's my do." + +"I'm with you, old thing. I know what you feel like; I get like that +myself sometimes. It's a pleasure to see that you're so human. We'll go +down town and razzle-dazzle for once. I'm off duty till to-night. I ought +to sleep, I suppose, but I can't, so come away with you. I won't be a +second." + +He disappeared. Peter stood for a moment, then slipped his tunic off and +put on another less distinctive of his office. He crossed to the desk, +unlocked it, and reached for a roll of notes, shoving them into his +pocket. Then he put on his cap, took a stick from the corner, and went +out into the passage. But there he remembered, and came quickly back. +He folded Hilda's letter and put it away in a drawer; then he went out +again. "Are you ready, Pennell?" he called. + +The two of them left camp and set out across the docks. As they crossed a +bridge a one-horse cab came into the road from a side-street and turned +in their direction. "Come on," said Peter. "Anything is better than this +infernal walk over this _pave_ always. Let's hop in." + +They stopped the man, who asked where to drive to. + +"Let's go to the Bretagne first and get a drink," said Pennell. + +"Right," said Peter--"any old thing. Hotel de la Bretagne," he called to +the driver. + +They set off at some sort of a pace, and Pennell leaned back with a +laugh. "It's a funny old world, Graham," he said. "One does get fed-up at +times. Why sitting in a funeral show like this cab and having a drink in +a second-rate pub should be any amusement, I don't know. But it is. +You're infectious, my boy. I begin to feel like a rag myself. What shall +we do?" + +"The great thing," said Peter judiciously, "is not to know what one is +going to do, but just to take anything that comes along. I remember at +the 'Varsity one never set out to rag anything definitely. You went out +and you saw a bobby and you took his hat, let us say. You cleared, and he +after you. Anything might happen then." + +"I should think so," said Pennell. + +"I remember once walking home with a couple of men, and one of them +suggested dousing all the street lamps in the road, which was a +residential one leading into town. There wasn't anything in it, but we +did it. One man put his back against a post, while the second went on to +the next post. Then the third man mounted the first man's back, shoved +out the light, jumped clear, and ran on past the next lamp-post to the +third. The first man jumped on No. 2's back and doused his lamp, and so +on. We did the street in a few minutes, and then a constable came into it +at the top. He probably thought he was drunk, then he spotted lights +going out, and like an ass he blew his whistle. We were round a corner in +no time, and then turned and ran back to see if we could offer +assistance!" + +"Some gag!" chuckled Pennell; "but I hope you won't go on that sort +of racket to-night. It would be a little more serious if we were +caught.... Also, these blighted gendarmes would probably start firing, +or some other damned thing." + +"They would," said Peter; "besides, that doesn't appeal to me now. I'm +getting too old, or else my tastes have become depraved." + +The one-horse cab stopped with a jerk. "Hop out," said Peter. He settled +the score, and the two of them entered the hotel and passed through into +the private bar. + +"What is it to be?" demanded Pennell. + +"Cocktails to-day, old son," said Peter; "I want bucking up. What do you +say to martinis?" + +The other agreed, and they moved over to the bar. A monstrously fat woman +stood behind it, like some bloated spider, and a thin, weedy-looking girl +assisted her. A couple of men were already there. It was too early for +official drinks, but the Bretagne knew no law. + +They ordered their drinks, and stood there while madame compounded them +and put in the cherries. Another man came in, and Peter recognised the +Australian Ferrars, whom he had met before. He introduced Pennell and +called for another martini. + +"So you frequent this poison-shop, do you?" said Ferrars. + +"Not much," laughed Peter, "but it's convenient." + +"It is, and it's a good sign when a man like you wants a drink. I'd +sooner listen to your sermons any day than some chaps' I know." + +"Subject barred here," said Pennell. "But here's the very best to you, +Graham, for all that." + +"Same here," said Ferrars, and put down his empty glass. + +The talk became general. There was nothing whatever in it--mild chaffing, +a yarn or two, a guarded description by Peter of his motor drive from +Abbeville, and then more drinks. And so on. The atmosphere was warm and +genial, but Peter wondered inwardly why he liked it, and he did not like +it so much that Pennell's "Well, what about it? Let's go on, Graham, +shall we?" found him unready. The two said a general good-bye, promised +madame to look in again, and sauntered out. + +They crossed the square in front of Travalini's, lingered at the +flower-stalls, refused the girls' pressure to buy, and strolled on. +"I'm sick of Travalini's," said Pennell. "Don't let's go in there." + +"So am I," said Peter. "Let's stroll down towards the sea." + +They turned down a side-street, and stood for a few minutes looking into +a picture and book shop. At that moment quick footsteps sounded on the +pavement, and Pennell glanced round. + +Two girls passed them, obviously sisters. They were not flashily dressed +exactly, but there was something in their furs and their high-heeled, +high-laced boots that told its own story. "By Jove, that's a pretty +girl!" exclaimed Pennell; "let's follow them." + +Peter laughed; he was reckless, but not utterly so. "If you like," he +said. "I'm on for any rag. We'll take them for a drink, but I stop at +that, mind, Pen." + +"Sure thing," said Pennell. "But come on; we'll miss them." + +They set out after the girls, who, after one glance back, walked on as if +they did not know they were being followed. But they walked slowly, and +it was easy for the two men to catch them up. + +Peter slackened a few paces behind. "Look here, Pen," he said, "what the +deuce are we going to do? They'll expect more than a drink, you know." + +"Oh no, they won't, not so early as this. It's all in the way of business +to them, too. Let's pass them first," he suggested, "and then slacken +down and wait for them to speak." + +Peter acquiesced, feeling rather more than an ass, but the drinks had +gone slightly to his head. They executed their share of the maneuver, +Pennell looking at the girls and smiling as he did so. But the two +quickened their pace and passed the officers without a word. + +"If you ask me, this is damned silly," said Peter. "Let's chuck it." + +"No, no; wait a bit," said Pennell excitedly. "You'll see what they'll +do. It's really an amusing study in human nature. Look! I told you so. +They live there." + +The girls had crossed the street, and were entering a house. One of them +unlocked the door, and they both disappeared. "There," said Peter, "that +finishes it. We've lost them." + +"Have we?" said his companion. "Come on over." + +They crossed the street and walked up to the door. It was open and +perhaps a foot ajar. Pennell pushed it wide and walked in. "Come on," he +said again. Peter followed reluctantly, but curious. He was seeing a new +side of life, he thought grimly. + +Before them a flight of stairs led straight up to a landing, but there +was no sign of the girls. "What's next?" demanded Peter. "We'll be fired +out in two twos if nothing worse happens. Suppose they're decent girls +after all; what would you say?" + +"I'd ask if Mlle. Lucienne lived here," said Pennell, "and apologise +profusely when I found she didn't. But you can't make a mistake in this +street, Graham. I'm going up. It's the obvious thing, and probably what +they wanted. Coming?" + +He set off to mount the stairs, and Peter, reassured, followed him, at a +few paces. When he reached the top, Pennell was already entering an open +door. + +"How do you do, ma cherie?" said one of the girls, smiling, and holding +out a hand. + +Peter looked round curiously. The room was fairly decently furnished in a +foreign middle-class fashion, half bedroom, half sitting-room. One of the +girls sat on the arm of a big chair, the other was greeting his friend. +She was the one he had fancied, but a quick glance attracted Peter +to the other and elder. He was in for it now, and he was determined to +play up. He crossed the floor, and smiled down at the girl on the arm of +the chair. + +"So you 'ave come," she said in broken English. "I told Lucienne that you +would not." + +"Lucienne!" exclaimed Peter, and looked back at Pennell. + +That traitor laughed, and seated himself on the edge of the bed, drawing +the other girl to him. "I'm awfully sorry, Graham," he said; "but I +couldn't help it. You wanted to see life, and you'd have shied off if I +hadn't played a game. I do just know this little girl, and jolly nice she +is too. Give me a kiss, Lulu." + +The girl obeyed, her eyes sparkling. "It's not proper before monsieur," +she said. "'E is--how do you say?--shocked?" + +She seated herself on Pennell's knee, and, putting an arm round his neck, +kissed him again, looking across at Peter mischievously. "We show 'im +French kiss," she added to Pennell, and pouted out her lips to his. + +"Well, now you 'ave come, what do you want?" demanded the girl on the arm +of Peter's chair. "Sit down," she said imperiously, patting the seat, +"and talk to me." + +Peter laughed more lightly than he felt. "Well, I want a drink," he said, +at random. "Pen," he called across the room, "what about that drink?" The +girl by him reached over and touched a bell. As she did so, Peter saw the +curls that clustered on her neck and caught the perfume of her hair. It +was penetrating and peculiar, but not distasteful, and it did all that it +was meant to do. He bent, and kissed the back of her neck, still +marvelling at himself. + +She straightened herself, smiling. "That is better. You aren't so cold as +you pretended, cherie. Now kiss me properly," and she held up her face. + +Peter kissed her lips. Before he knew it, a pair of arms were thrown +about his neck, and he was being half-suffocated with kisses. He tore +himself away, disgusted and ashamed. + +"No!" he cried sharply, but knowing that it was too late. + +The girl threw herself back, laughing merrily, "Oh, you are funny!" she +said. "Lucienne, take your boy away; I want to talk to mine." + +Before he could think of a remonstrance, it was done. Pennell and the +other girl got up from the bed where they had been whispering together, +and left the room. "Pennell!" called Peter, too late again, jumping up. +The girl ran round him, pushed the door to, locked it, and dropped the +key down the neck of her dress. "Voila!" she said gaily. + +There came a knock on the door. "Non, non!" she cried in French. "Take +the wine to Mlle. Lucienne; I am busy." + +Peter walked across the room to her. "Give me the key," he said, holding +out his hand, and changing his tactics. "Please do. I won't go till my +friend comes back. I promise." + +The girl looked at him. "You promise? But you will 'ave to find it." + +He smiled and nodded, and she walked deliberately to the bed, undid the +front of her costume, and slipped it off. Bare necked and armed, she +turned to him, holding open the front of her chemise. "Down there," she +said. + +It was a strange moment and a strange thing, but a curious courage came +back to Peter in that second. Without hesitation, he put his hand down +and sought for the key against her warm body. He found it, and help it +up, smiling. Then he moved to the door, pushed the key in the keyhole, +and turned again to the girl. "There!" he said simply. + +With a gesture of abandon, she threw herself on the bed, propping her +cheek on her hand and staring at him. He sat down where Pennell had sat, +but made no attempt to touch her, leaning, instead, back and away against +the iron bed-post. She pulled up her knees, flung her arms back, and +laughed. "And now, monsieur?" she said. + +Peter had never felt so cool in his life. His thoughts raced, but +steadily, as if he had dived into cold, clear water. He smiled again, +unhesitatingly, but sadly. "Dear," he said deliberately, "listen to me. I +have cheated you by coming here to-day, though you shan't suffer for it. +I did not want anything, and I don't now. But I'm glad I've come, even +though you do not understand. I don't want to do a bit what my friend is +doing. I don't know why, but I don't. I'm engaged to a girl in England, +but it's not because of that. I'm a chaplain too--a cure, you know--in +the English Army; but it's not because of that." + +"Protestant?" demanded the girl on the bed. + +He nodded. "Ah, well," she said, "the Protestant ministers have wives. +They are men; it is different with priests. If your fiancee is wise, she +wouldn't mind if you love me a little. She is in England; I am here--is +it not so? You love me now; again, perhaps, once or twice. Then it is +finished. You do not tell your fiancee and she does not know. It is +no matter. Come on, cherie!" + +She held out her hands and threw her head back on the pillow. + +Peter smiled again. "You do not understand," he said. "And nor do I, but +I must be different from some men. I do not want to." + +"Ah, well," she exclaimed brightly, sitting up, "another time! Give me my +dress, monsieur le cure." + +He got up and handed it to her. "Tell me," he said, "do you like this +sort of life?" + +She shrugged her white shoulders indifferently. "Sometimes," she +said--"sometimes not. There are good boys and bad boys. Some are rough, +cruel, mean; some are kind, and remember that it costs much to live +these days, and one must dress nicely. See," she said deliberately, +showing him, "it is lace, fine lace; I pay fifty francs in Paris!" + +"I will give you that," said Peter, and he placed the note on the bed. + +She stared at it and at him. "Oh, I love you!" she cried. "You are kind! +Ah, now, if I could but love you always!" + +"Always?" he demanded. + +"Yes, always, always, while you are here, in Le Havre. I would have no +other boy but you. Ah, if you would! You do not know how one tires of the +music-hall, the drinks, the smiles! I would do just all you please--be +gay, be solemn, talk, be silent, just as you please! Oh, if you would!" + +Half in and half out of her dress, she stood there, pleading. Peter +looked closely at the little face with its rouge and powder. + +"You hate that!" she exclaimed, with quick intuition. "See, it is gone. I +use it no more, only a leetle, leetle, for the night." And she ran across +to the basin, dipped a little sponge in water, passed it over her face, +and turned to him triumphantly. + +Peter sighed. "Little girl," he said sadly, hardly knowing that he spoke. +"I cannot save myself: how can I save you?" + +"Pouf!" she cried. "Save! What do you mean?" She drew herself up with an +absurd gesture. "You think me a bad girl? No, I am not bad; I go to +church. Le bon Dieu made us as we are; it is necessaire." + +They stood before each other, a strange pair, the product of a strange +age. God knows what the angels made of it. But at any rate Peter was +honest. He thought of Julie, and he would not cast a stone. + +There came a light knock at the door. The girl disregarded it, and ran to +him. "You will come again?" she said in low tones. "Promise me that you +will! I will not ask you for anything; you can do as you please; but come +again! Do come again!" + +Peter passed his hand over her hair. "I will come if I can," he said; +"but the Lord knows why." + +The knock came again, a little louder. The girl smiled and held her face +up. "Kiss me," she demanded. + +He complied, and she darted away, fumbling with her dress. "I come," she +called, and opened the door. Lucienne and Pennell came in, and the two +men exchanged glances. Then Pennell looked away. Lucienne glanced at them +and shrugged her shoulders. "Come, Graham," said Pennell; "let's get out! +Good-bye, you two." + +The pair of them went down and out in silence. No one had seen them come, +and there was no one to see them go. Peter glanced at the number and made +a mental note of it, and they set off down the street. + +Presently Pennell laughed, "I played you a dirty trick, Graham," he said, +"I'm sorry." + +"You needn't be," said Peter; "I'm very glad I went." + +"Why?" said Pennell curiously, glancing sideways at him. "You _are_ a +queer fellow, Graham." But there was a note of relief in his tone. + +Peter said nothing, but walked on. "Where next?" demanded Pennell. + +"It looks as if you are directing this outfit," said Peter; "I'm in your +hands." + +"All right," said Pennell; "I know." + +They took a street running parallel to the docks, and entered an American +bar. Peter glanced round curiously. "I've never been here before," he +said. + +"Probably not," said Pennell. "It's not much at this time of the year, +but jolly cool in the summer. And you can get first-class cocktails. I +want something now; what's yours?" + +"I'll leave it to you," said Peter. + +He sat down at a little table rather in the corner and lit a cigarette. +The place was well lighted, and by means of mirrors, coloured-glass +ornaments, paper decorations, and a few palms, it looked in its own way +smart. Two or three officers were drinking at the bar, sitting on high +stools, and Pennell went up to give his order. He brought two glasses +to Peter's table and sat down. "What fools we are, padre!" he said. "I +sometimes think that the man who gets simply and definitely tight when he +feels he wants a breather is wiser than most of us. We drink till we're +excited, and then we drink to get over it. And I suppose the devil sits +and grins. Well, it's a weary world, and there isn't any good road out of +it. I sometimes wish I'd stopped a bullet earlier on in the day. And yet +I don't know. We do get some excitement. Let's go to a music-hall +to-night." + +"What about dinner?" + +"Oh, get a quiet one in a decent hotel. I'll have to clear out at +half-time if you don't mind." + +"Not a bit," said Peter. "Half will be enough for me, I think. But let's +have dinner before we've had more of these things." + +The bar was filling up. A few girls came and went. Pennell nodded to a +man or two, and finished his glass. And they went off to dinner. + +The music-hall was not much of a show, but it glittered, and people +obviously enjoyed it. Peter watched the audience as much as the stage. +Quite respectable French families were there, and there was nothing done +that might not have been done on an English stage--perhaps less, but the +words were different. The women as well as the men screamed with +laughter, flushed of face, but an old fellow, with his wife and daughter, +obviously from the country, sat as stiffly as an English farmer through +it all. The daughter glanced once at the two officers, but then looked +away; she was well brought up. A half-caste Algerian, probably, came +on and danced really extraordinarily well, and a negro from the States, +equally ready in French and English, sang songs which the audience +demanded. He was entirely master, however, and, conscious of his power, +used it. No one in the place seemed to have heard of the colour-bar, +except a couple of Americans, who got up and walked out when the comedian +clasped a white girl round the waist in one of his songs. The negro made +some remark that Peter couldn't catch, and the place shook with laughter. + +At half-time everyone flocked into a queer kind of semi-underground hall +whose walls were painted to represent a cave, dingy cork festoons and +"rocks" adding to the illusion. Here, at long tables, everyone drank +innocuous French beer, that was really quite cool and good. It was rather +like part of an English bank holiday. Everybody spoke to everybody else, +and there were no classes and distinctions. You could only get one glass +of beer, for the simple reason that there were too many drinking and too +few supplying the drinks for more in the time. + +"I must go," said Pennell, "but don't you bother to come." + +"Oh yes, I will," said Peter, and they got up together. + +In the entrance-hall, however, a girl was apparently waiting for someone, +and as they passed Peter recognised her. "Louise!" he exclaimed. + +She smiled and held out her hand. Peter took it, and Pennell after him. + +"Do you go now?" she asked them. "The concert is not half finished." + +"I've got to get back to work," said Pennell, "worse luck. It is la +guerre, you know!" + +"Poor boy!" said she gaily. "And you?" turning to Peter. + +Moved by an impulse, he shook his head. "No," he said, "I was only seeing +him home." + +"Bien! See me home instead, then," said Louise. + +"Nothing doing," said Peter, using a familiar phrase. + +She laughed. "Bah! cannot a girl have friends without that, eh? You have +a fiancee, 'ave you not? Oh yes, I remember--I remember very well. Come! +I have done for to-day; I am tired. I will make you some coffee, and we +shall talk. Is it not so?" + +Peter looked at Pennell. "Do you mind, Pen?" he asked. "I'd rather like +to." + +"Not a scrap," said the other cheerfully; "wish I could come too. Ask me +another day, Louise, will you?" + +She regarded him with her head a little on one side. "I do not know," she +said. "I do not think you would talk with me as he will. You like what +you can get from the girls of France now; but after, no more. Monsieur, +'e is different. He want not quite the same. Oh, I know! Allons." + +Pennell shrugged his shoulders. "One for me," he said. "Well, good-night. +I hope you both enjoy yourselves." + +In five minutes Peter and Louise were walking together down the street. A +few passers-by glanced at them, or especially at her, but she took no +notice, and Peter, in a little, felt the strangeness of it all much less. +He deliberately crossed once or twice to get between her and the road, as +he would have done with a lady, and moved slightly in front of her when +they encountered two drunken men. She chatted about nothing in +particular, and Peter thought to himself that he might almost have been +escorting Hilda home. But if Hilda had seen him! + +She ushered him into her flat. It was cosy and nicely furnished, very +different from that of the afternoon. A photograph or two stood about in +silver frames, a few easy-chairs, a little table, a bookshelf, and a +cupboard. A fire was alight in the grate; Louise knelt down and poked it +into a flame. + +"You shall have French coffee," she said. "And I have even lait for you." +She put a copper kettle on the fire, and busied herself with cups and +saucers. These she arranged on the little table, and drew it near the +fire. Then she offered him a cigarette from a gold case, and took one +herself. "Ah!" she said, sinking back into a chair. "Now we are, as you +say, comfy, is it not so? We can talk. Tell me how you like la France, +and what you do." + +Peter tried, but failed rather miserably, and the shrewd French girl +noticed it easily enough. She all but interrupted him as he talked of +Abbeville and the raid. "Mon ami," she said, "you have something on your +mind. You do not want to talk of these things. Tell me." + +Peter looked into the kindly keen eyes. "You are right, Louise," he said. +"This is a day of trouble for me." + +She nodded. "Tell me," she said again. "But first, what is your name, mon +ami? It is hard to talk if one does not know even the name." + +He hardly hesitated. It seemed natural to say it. "Peter," he said. + +She smiled, rolling the "r." "Peterr. Well, Peterr, go on." + +"I'll tell you about to-day first," he said, and, once launched, did so +easily. He told the little story well, and presently forgot the strange +surroundings. It was all but a confession, and surely one was never more +strangely made. And from the story he spoke of Julie, but concealed her +identity, and then he spoke of God. Louise hardly said a word. She poured +out coffee in the middle, but that was all. At last he finished. + +"Louise," he said, "it comes to this: I've nothing left but Julie. It was +she restrained me this afternoon, I think. I'm mad for her; I want her +and nothing else. But with her, somehow, I lose everything else I possess +or ever thought I possessed." And he stopped abruptly, for she did not +know his business in life, and he had almost given it away. + +When he had finished she slipped a hand into his, and said no word. +Suddenly she looked up. "Peterr, mon ami," she said, "listen to me. I +will tell you the story of Louise, of me. My father, he lived--oh, it +matters not; but he had some money, he was not poor. I went to a good +school, and I came home for the holidays. I had one sister older than +me. Presently I grew up; I learnt much; I noticed. I saw there were +terrible things, chez nous. My mother did not care, but I--I cared. I was +mad. I spoke to my sister: it was no good. I spoke to my father, and, +truly, I thought he would kill me. He beat me--ah, terrible--and I ran +from the house. I wept under the hedges: I said I would no more go 'ome. +I come to a big city. I found work in a big shop--much work, little +money--ah, how little! Then I met a friend: he persuade me, at last he +keep me--two months, three, or more; then comes the war. He is an +officer, and he goes. We kiss, we part--oui, he love me, that officer. I +pray for him: I think I nevair leave the church; but it is no good. He is +dead. Then I curse le bon Dieu. They know me in that place: I can do +nothing unless I will go to an 'otel--to be for the officers, you +understand? I say, Non. I sell my things and I come here. Here I do +well--you understand? I am careful; I have now my home. But this is what +I tell you, Peterr: one does wrong to curse le bon Dieu. He is wise--ah, +how wise!--it is not for me to say. And good--ah, Jesu! how good! You +think I do not know; I, how should I know? But I know. I do not +understand. For me, I am caught; I am like the bird in the cage. I cannot +get out. So I smile, I laugh--and I wait." + +She ceased. Peter was strangely moved, and he pressed the hand he held +almost fiercely. The tragedy of her life seemed so great that he hardly +dare speak of his own. But: "What has it to do with me?" he demanded. + +She gave a little laugh. "'Ow should I say?" she said. "But you think God +not remember you, and, Peterr, He remember all the time." + +"And Julie?" quizzed Peter after a moment. + +Louise shrugged her shoulders. "This love," she said, "it is one great +thing. For us women it is perhaps the only great thing, though your +English women are blind, are dead, they do not see. Julie, she is as us, +I think. She is French inside. La pauvre petite, she is French in the +heart." + +"Well?" demanded Peter again. + +"C'est tout, mon ami. But I am sorry for Julie." + +"Louise," said Peter impulsively, "you're better than I--a thousand +times. I don't know how to thank you." And he lifted her hand to his +lips. + +He hardly touched it. She sprang up, withdrawing it. "Ah, non, non," +she cried. "You must not. You forget. It is easy for you, for you are +good--yes, so good. You think I did not notice in the street, but I see. +You treat me like a lady, and now you kiss my hand, the hand of the girl +of the street.... Non, non!" she protested vehemently, her eyes alight. +"I would kiss your feet!" + +Outside, in the darkened street, Peter walked slowly home. At the gate of +the camp he met Arnold, returning from a visit to another mess. "Hullo!" +he called to Peter, "and where have you been?" + +Peter looked at him for a moment without replying. "_I'm_ not sure, but +seeing for the first time a little of what Christ saw, Arnold, I think," +he said at last, with a catch in his voice. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Looking back on them afterwards, Peter saw the months that followed as a +time of waiting between two periods of stress. Not, of course, that +anyone can ever stand still, for even if one does but sit by a fire and +warm one's hands, things happen, and one is imperceptibly led forward. It +was so in this case, but, not unnaturally, Graham hardly noticed in what +way his mind was moving. He had been through a period of storm, and he +had to a certain extent emerged from it. The men he had met, and above +all Julie, had been responsible for the opening of his eyes to facts that +he had before passed over, and it was entirely to his credit that he +would not refuse to accept them and act upon them. But once he had +resolved to do so things, as it were, slowed down. He went about his work +in a new spirit, the spirit not of the teacher, but of the learner, and +ever since his talk with Louise he thought--or tried to think--more of +what love might mean to Julie than to himself. The result was a curious +change in their relations, of which the girl was more immediately and +continually conscious than Peter. She puzzled over it, but could not get +the clue, and her quest irritated her. Peter had always been the least +little bit nervous in her presence. She had known that he never knew what +she would do or say next, and her knowledge had amused and carried her +away. But now he was so self-possessed. Very friendly they were, and they +met often--in the ward for a few sentences that meant much to each of +them; down town by arrangement in a cafe, or once or twice for dinner; +and once for a day in the country, though not alone; and he was always +the same. Sometimes, on night duty, she would grope for an adjective to +fit him, and could only think of "tender." He was that. And she hated it, +or all but hated it. She did not want tenderness from him, for it seemed +to her that tenderness meant that he was, as it were, standing aloof from +her, considering, helping when he could. She demanded the fierce rush of +passion with which he would seize and shrine her in the centre of his +heart, deaf to her entreaties, careless of her pain. She would love then, +she thought, and sometimes, going to the window of the ward and staring +out over the harbour at the twinkling lights, she would bite her lip with +the pain of it. He had thought she dismissed love lightly when she called +it animal passion. Good God, if he only knew!... + +Peter, for his part, did not realise so completely the change that had +come over him. For one thing, he saw himself all the time, and she did +not. She did not see him when he lay on his bed in a tense agony of +desire for her. She did not see him when life looked like a tumbled heap +of ruins to him and she smiled beyond. She all but only saw him when he +was staring at the images that had been presented to him during the past +months, or hearing in imagination Louise's quaintly accepted English and +her quick and vivid "La pauvre petite!" + +For it was Louise, curiously enough, who affected him most in these days. +A friendship sprang up between them of which no one knew. Pennell and +Donovan, with whom he went everywhere, did not speak of it either to him +or to one another, with that real chivalry that is in most men, but if +they had they would have blundered, misunderstanding. Arnold, of whom +Peter saw a good deal, did not know, or, if he knew, Peter never knew +that he knew. Julie, who was well aware of his friendship with the two +first men, knew that he saw French girls, and, indeed, openly chaffed +him about it. But under her chaff was an anxiety, typical of her. She did +not know how far he went in their company, and she would have given +anything to know. She guessed that, despite everything, he had had no +physical relationship with any one of them, and she almost wished it +might be otherwise. She knew well that if he fell to them, he would the +more readily turn to her. There was a strength about him now that she +dreaded. + +Whatever Louise thought she kept wonderfully hidden. He took her out to +dinner in quiet places, and she would take him home to coffee, and they +would chat, and there was an end. She was seemingly well content. She did +her business, and they would even speak of it. "I cannot come to-night, +mon ami," she would say; "I am busy." She would nod to him as she passed +out of the restaurant with someone else, and he would smile back at her. +Nor did he ever remonstrate or urge her to change her ways. And she +knew why. He had no key with which to open her cage. + +Once, truly, he attempted it, and it was she who refused the glittering +thing. He rarely came uninvited to her flat, for obvious reasons; but one +night she heard him on the stairs as she got ready for bed. He was +walking unsteadily, and she thought at first that he had been drinking. +She opened to him with the carelessness her life had taught her, her +costume off, and her black hair all about her shoulders. "Go in and wait, +Peterr," she said; "I come." + +She had slipped on a coloured silk wrap, and gone in to the sitting-room +to find him pacing up and down. She smiled. "Sit down, mon ami," she +said; "I will make the coffee. See, it is ready. Mais vraiment, you shall +drink cafe noir to-night. And one leetle glass of this--is it not so?" +and she took a green bottle of peppermint liqueur from the cupboard. + +"Coffee, Louise," he said, "but not the other. I don't want it." + +She turned and looked more closely at him then. "Non," she said, "pardon. +But sit you down. Am I to have the wild beast prowling up and down in my +place?" + +"That's just it, Louise," he cried; "I am a wild beast to-night. I can't +stand it any longer. Kiss me." + +He put his arms round her, and bent her head back, studying her French +and rather inscrutable eyes, her dark lashes, her mobile mouth, her long +white throat. He put his hand caressingly upon it, and slid his fingers +beneath the loose lace that the open wrap exposed. "Dear," he said, "I +want you to-night." + +"To-night, cherie?" she questioned. + +"Yes, now," he said hotly. "And why not? You give to other men--why not +to me, Louise?" + +She freed herself with a quick gesture, and, brave heart, she laughed +merrily. The devil must have started at that laugh, and the angels of God +sung for joy. "Ah, non," she cried, "It is the mistake you make. I _sell_ +myself to other men. But you--you are my friend; I cannot sell myself to +you." + +He did not understand altogether why she quibbled; how should he have +done? But lie was ashamed. He slid into the familiar chair and ran his +fingers through his hair. "Forgive me, dear," he muttered. "I think I am +mad to-night, but I am not drunk, as you thought, except with worrying. +I feel lost, unclean, body and soul, and I thought you would help me to +forget--no, more than that, help me to feel a man. Can't you, won't you?" +he demanded, looking up. "I am tired of play-acting. I've a body, like +other men. Let me plunge down deep to-night, Louise. It will do me good, +and it doesn't matter. That girl was right after all. Oh, what a fool I +am!" + +Then did the girl of the streets set out to play her chosen part. She did +not preach at all--how could she? Besides, neither had she any use for +the Ten Commandments. But if ever Magdalene broke an alabaster-box of +very precious ointment, Louise did so that night. She was worldly wise, +and she did not disdain to use her wisdom. And when he had gone she got +calmly into bed, and slept--not all at once, it is true, but as +resolutely as she had laughed and talked. It was only when she woke in +the morning that she found her pillow wet with tears. + +It was a few days later that Louise took Peter to church. His ignorance +of her religion greatly amused her, or so at least she pretended, and +when he asked her to come out of town to lunch one morning, and she +refused because it was Corpus Christi, and she wanted to go to the sung +Mass, it was he who suggested that he should go with her. She looked at +him queerly a moment, and then agreed. They met outside the church and +went in together, as strange a pair as ever the meshes of that ancient +net which gathers of all kinds had ever drawn towards the shore. + +Louise led him to a central seat, and found the place for him in her +Prayer-Book. The building was full, and Peter glanced about him +curiously. The detachment of the worshippers impressed him immensely. +There did not appear to be any proscribed procedure among them, and even +when the Mass began he was one of the few who stood and knelt as the +rubrics of the service directed. Louise made no attempt to do so. For the +most part she knelt, and her beads trickled ceaselessly through her +fingers. + +Peter was, if anything, bored by the Mass, though he would not admit it +to himself. It struck him as being a ratherly poorly played performance. +True, the officiating ministers moved and spoke with a calm regularity +which impressed him, familiar as he was with clergymen who gave out hymns +and notices, and with his own solicitude at home that the singing should +go well or that the choirboys should not fidget. But there was a terrible +confusion with chairs, and a hideous kind of clapper that was used, +apparently, to warn the boys to sit and rise. The service, moreover, as a +reverential congregational act of worship such as he was used to hope +for, was marred by innumerable collections, and especially by the old +woman who came round even during the _Sanctus_ to collect the rent of the +chairs they occupied, and changed money or announced prices with all the +zest of the market-place. + +But at the close there was a procession which is worth considerable +description. Six men with censers of silver lined up before the high +altar, and stood there, slowly swinging the fragrant bowls at the end of +their long chains. The music died down. One could hear the rhythmical, +faint clangour of the metal. And then, intensely sudden, away in the west +gallery, but almost as if from the battlements of heaven, pealed out +silver trumpets in a fanfare. The censers flew high in time with it, and +the sweet clouds of smoke, caught by the coloured sunlight of the rich +painted windows, unfolded in the air of the sanctuary. Lights moved and +danced, and the space before the altar filled with the white of the men +and boys who should move in the procession. Again and again those +trumpets rang out, and hardly had the last echoes died away than the +organ thundered the _Pange Lingua_, as a priest in cloth of gold turned +from the altar with the glittering monstrance in his hand. Even from +where he stood Peter could see the white centre of the Host for Whom +all this was enacted. Then the canopy, borne by four French laymen in +frock-coats and white gloves, hid It from his sight; and the high gold +cross, and its attendant tapers, swung round a great buttress into view. + +Peter had never heard a hymn sung so before. First the organ would peal +alone; then the men's voices unaided would take up the refrain; then the +organ again; then the clear treble of the boys; then, like waves breaking +on immemorial cliffs, organ, trumpets, boys, men, and congregation would +thunder out together till the blood raced in his veins and his eyes were +too dim to see. + +Down the central aisle at last they came, and Peter knelt with the rest. +He saw how the boys went before throwing flowers; how in pairs, as the +censers were recharged, the thurifers walked backward before the three +beneath the canopy, of whom one, white-haired and old, bore That in +the monstrance which all adored. In music and light and colour and scent +the Host went by, as It had gone for centuries in that ancient place, and +Peter knew, all bewildered as he was, there, by the side of the girl, +that a new vista was opening before his eyes. + +It was not that he understood as yet, or scarcely so. In a few minutes +all had passed them, and he rose and turned to see the end. He watched +while, amid the splendour of that court, with singers and ministers and +thurifers arranged before, the priest ascended to enthrone the Sacrament +in the place prepared for It. With banks of flowers behind, and the +glitter of electric as well as of candle light, the jewelled rays of the +monstrance gleaming and the organ pealing note on note in a triumphant +ecstasy, the old, bent priest placed That he carried there, and sank down +before It. Then all sound of singing and of movement died away, and from +that kneeling crowd one lone, thin voice, but all unshaken, cried to +Heaven of the need of men. It was a short prayer and he could not +understand it, but it seemed to Peter to voice his every need, and to go +on and on till it reached the Throne. The "Amen" beat gently about him, +and he sank his face in his hands. + +But only for a second. The next he was lifted to his feet. All that had +gone before was as nothing to this volume of praise that shook, it seemed +to him, the very carven roof above and swept the ancient walls in waves +of sound. + +_Adoremus in aeternum Sanctissimum Sacramentum_, cried men on earth, and, +as it seemed to him, the very angels of God. + +But outside he collected his thoughts. "Well," he said. "I'm glad I've +been, but I shan't go again." + +"Why not?" demanded Louise. "It was most beautiful. I have never 'eard it +better." + +"Oh yes, it was," said Peter; "the music and singing were wonderful, +but--forgive me if I hurt you, but I can't help saying it--I see now what +our people mean when they say it is nothing less than idolatry." + +"Idolatry?" queried Louise, stumblingly and bewildered. "But what do you +mean?" + +"Well," said Peter, "the Sacrament is, of course, a holy thing, a very +holy thing, the sign and symbol of Christ Himself, but in that church +sign and symbol were forgotten; the Sacrament was worshipped as if it +were very God." + +"Oui, oui," protested Louise vehemently, "It is. It is le bon Jesu. It is +He who is there. He passed by us among them all, as we read He went +through the crowds of Jerusalem in the holy Gospel. And there was not one +He did not see, either," she added, with a little break in her voice. + +Peter all but stopped in the road. It was absurd that so simple a thing +should have seemed to him new, but it is so with us all. We know in a +way, but we do not understand, and then there comes the moment of +illumination--sometimes. + +"Jesus Himself!" he exclaimed, and broke off abruptly. He recalled a +fragment of speech: "Not a dead man, not a man on the right hand of the +throne of God." But "He can't be found," Langton had said. Was it so? He +walked on in silence. What if Louise, with her pitiful story and her +caged, earthy life, had after all found what the other had missed? He +pulled himself together; it was too good to be true. + +One day Louise asked him abruptly if he had been to see the girl in +the house which he had visited with Pennell. He told her no, and she +said--they had met by chance in the town--"Well, go you immediately, +then, or you will not see her." + +"What do you mean?" he asked. "Is she ill--dying?" + +"Ah, non, not dying, but she is ill. They will take her to a 'ospital +to-morrow. But this afternoon she will be in bed. She like to see you, +I think." + +Peter left her and made for the house. On his way he thought of +something, and took a turning which led to the market-place of flowers. +There, at a stall, he bought a big bunch of roses and some sprays of +asparagus fern, and set off again. Arriving, he found the door shut. It +was a dilemma, for he did not even know the girl's name, but he knocked. + +A grim-faced woman opened the door and stared at him and his flowers. "I +think there is a girl sick here," said Peter. "May I see her?" + +The woman stared still harder, and he thought she was going to refuse him +admission, but at length she gave way. "Entrez," she said. "Je pense que +vous savez le chambre. Mais, le bouquet--c'est incroyable." + +Peter went up the stairs and knocked at the door. A voice asked who was +there, and he smiled because he could not say. The girl did not know his +name, either. "A friend," he said: "May I come in?" + +A note of curiosity sounded in her voice. "Oui, certainement. Entrez," +she called. Peter turned the handle and entered the remembered room. + +The girl was sitting up in bed in her nightdress, her hair in disorder, +and the room felt hot and stuffy and looked more tawdry than ever. She +exclaimed at the sight of his flowers. He deposited the big bunch by the +side of her, and seated himself on the edge of the bed. She had been +reading a book, and he noticed it was the sort of book that Langton and +he had seen so prominently in the book-shop at Abbeville. + +If he had expected to find her depressed or ashamed, he was entirely +mistaken. "Oh, you darling," she cried in clipped English. "Kiss me, +quick, or I will forget the orders of the doctor and jump out of bed and +catch you. Oh, that you should bring me the rose so beautiful! Helas! I +may not wear one this night in the cafe! See, are they not beautiful +here?" + +She pulled her nightdress open considerably more than the average evening +dress is cut away and put two or three of the blooms on her white bosom, +putting her head on one side to see the result. "Oui," she exclaimed, "je +suis exquise! To-night I 'ave so many boys I do not know what to do! But +I forget: I cannot go. Je suis malade, tres malade. You knew? You are +angry with me--is it not so?" + +He laughed; there was nothing else to do. "No," he said; "why should I +be? But I am very sorry." + +She shrugged her shoulders. "It is nothing," she said. "C'est la guerre +for me. I shall not be long, and when I come out you will come to see me +again, will you not? And bring me more flowers? And you shall not let me +'ave the danger any more, and if I do wrong you shall smack me 'ard. +Per'aps you will like that. In the books men like it much. Would you like +to whip me?" she demanded, her eyes sparkling as she threw herself over +in the bed and looked up at him. + +Peter got up and moved away to the window. "No," he said shortly, staring +out. He had a sensation of physical nausea, and it was as much as he +could do to restrain himself. He realised, suddenly, that he was in the +presence of the world, the flesh, and the devil's final handiwork. Only +his new knowledge kept him quiet. Even she might be little to blame. He +remembered all that she had said to him before, and suddenly his disgust +was turned into overwhelming pity. This child before him--for she was +little more than a child--had bottomed degradation. For the temporary +protection and favour of a man that she guessed to be kind there was +nothing in earth or in hell that she would not do. And in her already +were the seeds of the disease that was all but certain to slay her. + +He turned again to the bed, and knelt beside it. "Poor little girl," he +said, and lightly brushed her hair. He certainly never expected the +result. + +She pushed him from her. "Oh, go, go!" she cried. "Quick go! You pretend, +but you do not love me. Why you give me money, the flowers, if you do not +want me? Go quick. Come never to see me again!" + +Peter did the only thing he could do; he went. "Good-bye," he said +cheerfully at the door. "I hope you will be better soon. I didn't mean to +be a beast to you. Give the flowers to Lucienne if you don't want them; +she will be able to wear them to-night. Cheerio. Good-bye-ee!" + +"Good-bye-ee!" she echoed after him. And he closed the door on her life. + +In front of the Hotel de Ville he met Arnold, returning from the club, +and the two men walked off together. In a moment of impulse he related +the whole story to him. "Now," he said, "what do you make of all that?" + +Arnold was very moved. It was not his way to say much, but he walked on +silently for a long time. Then he said: "The Potter makes many vessels, +but never one needlessly. I hold on to that. And He can remake the broken +clay." + +"Are you sure?" asked Peter. + +"I am," said Arnold. "It's not in the Westminster Confession, nor in the +Book of Common Prayer, nor, for all I know, in the Penny Catechism, but I +believe it. God Almighty must be stronger than the devil, Graham." + +Peter considered this. Then he shook his head. "That won't wash, Arnold," +he said. "If God is stronger than the devil, so that the devil is never +ultimately going to succeed, I can see no use in letting him have his +fling at all. And I've more respect for the devil than to think he'd take +it. It's childish to suppose the existence of two such forces at a +perpetual game of cheat. Either there is no devil and there is no +hell--in which case I reckon that there is no heaven either, for a heaven +would not be a heaven if it were not attained, and there would be no true +attainment if there were no possibility of failure--or else there are all +three. And if there are all three, the devil wins out, sometimes, in the +end." + +"Then, God is not almighty?" + +Peter shrugged his shoulders. "If I breed white mice, I don't lessen my +potential power if I choose to let some loose in the garden to see if the +cat will get them. Besides, in the end I could annihilate the cat if I +wanted to." + +"You can't think of God so," cried Arnold sharply. + +"Can't I?" demanded Peter. "Well, maybe not, Arnold; I don't know that I +can think of Him at all. But I can face the facts of life, and if I'm not +a coward, I shan't run away from them. That's what I've been doing these +days, and that's what I do not think even a man like yourself does +fairly. You think, I take it, that a girl like that is damned utterly by +all the canons of theology, and then, forced on by pity and tenderness, +you cry out against them all that she is God's making and He will not +throw her away. Is that it?" + +Arnold slightly evaded an answer. "How can you save her, Graham?" he +asked. + +"I can't. I don't pretend I can. I've nothing to say or do. I see only +one flicker of hope, and that lies in the fact that she doesn't +understand what love is. No shadow of the truth has ever come her way. +If now, by any chance, she could see for one instant--in _fact_, mind +you--the face of God.... If God is Love," he added. They walked a dozen +paces. "And even then she might refuse," he said. + +"Whose fault would that be?" demanded the older man. + +Peter answered quickly, "Whose fault? Why, all our faults--yours and +mine, and the fault of men like Pennell and Donovan, as well as her own, +too, as like as not. We've all helped build up the scheme of things as +they are, and we are all responsible. We curse the Germans for making +this damned war, and it is the war that has done most to make that girl; +but they didn't make it. No Kaiser made it, and no Nietzsche. The only +person who had no hand in it that I know of was Jesus Christ." + +"And those who have left all and followed Him," said Arnold softly. + +"Precious few," retorted Peter. + +The other had nothing to say. + + * * * * * + +During these months Peter wrote often to Hilda, and with increasing +frankness. Her replies grew shorter as his letters grew longer. It was +strange, perhaps, that he should continue to write, but the explanation +was not far to seek. It was by her that he gauged the extent of his +separation from the old outlook, and in her that he still clung, +desperately, as it were, to the past. Against reason he elevated her +into a kind of test position, and if her replies gave him no +encouragement, they at least served to make him feel the inevitableness +and the reality of his present position. It would have been easy to get +into the swim and let it carry him carelessly on--moderately easy, at any +rate. But with Hilda to refer to he was forced to take notice, and it was +she, therefore, that hastened the end. Just after Christmas, in a fit of +temporary boldness, he told her about Louise, so that it was Louise again +who was the responsible person during these months. Hilda's reply was +delayed, nor had she written immediately. When he got it, it was brief +but to the point. She did not doubt, she said, but that what he had +written was strictly true, and she did not doubt his honour. But he must +see that their relationship was impossible. She couldn't marry the man +who appeared actually to like the company of such a woman, nor could she +do other than feel that the end would seem to him as plain as it did to +her, and that he would leave the Church, or at any rate such a ministry +in it as she could share. She had told her people that she was no longer +engaged in order that he should feel free, but she would ever remember +the man as she had known him, whom she had loved, and whom she loved +still. + +It was in the afternoon that Peter got the letter, and he was just +setting off for the hospital. When he had read it, he put on his cap and +set off in the opposite direction. There was a walk along the sea-wall a +few feet wide, where the wind blew strongly laden with the Channel +breezes, and on the other side was a waste of sand and stone. In some +places water was on both sides of the wall, and here one could feel more +alone than anywhere else in the town. + +Peter set off, his head in a mad whirl. He had felt that such a letter +would come for weeks, but that did not, in a way, lessen the blow when it +came. He had known, too, that Hilda was not to him what she had been, but +he had not altogether felt that she never could be so again. Now he knew +that he had gone too far to turn back. He felt, he could not help it, +released in a sense, with almost a sense of exhilaration behind it, for +the unknown lay before. And yet, since we are all so human, he was +intensely unhappy below all this. He called to mind little scenes and +bits of scenes: their first meeting; the sight of her in church as he +preached; how she had looked at the dining-table in Park Lane; her walk +as she came to meet him in the park. And he knew well enough how he had +hurt her, and the thought maddened him. He told himself that God was a +devil to treat him so; that he had tried to follow the right; and that +the way had led him down towards nothing but despair. He was no nearer +answering the problems that beset him. He might have been in a fool's +paradise before, but what was the use of coming out to see the devil as +he was and men and women as they were if he could see no more than that? +The throne of his heart was empty, and there was none to fill it. + +Julie? + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The sea-wall ended not far from Donovan's camp of mud and cinders, and +having got there, Peter thought he would go on and get a cup of tea. He +crossed the railway-lines, steered through a great American rest camp, +crossed the canal, and entered the camp. It was a cheerless place in +winter, and the day was drawing in early with a damp fog. A great French +airship was cruising around overhead and dropping down towards her +resting-place in the great hangar near by. She looked cold and ghostly up +aloft, the more so when her engines were shut off, and Peter thought how +chilly her crew must be. He had a hankering after Donovan's cheery +humour, especially as he had not seen him for some time. He crossed the +camp and made for the mess-room. + +It was lit and the curtains were drawn, and, at the door, he stopped dead +at the sound of laughter. Then he walked quickly in. "Caught out, by +Jove!" said Donovan's voice. "You're for it, Julie." + +A merry party sat round the stove, taking tea. Julie and Miss Raynard +were both there, with Pennell and another man from Donovan's camp. Julie +wore furs and had plainly just come in, for her cheeks were glowing with +exercise. Pennell was sitting next Miss Raynard, but Donovan, on a +wooden camp-seat, just beyond where Julie sat in a big cushioned chair, +looked out at him from almost under Julie's arm, as he bent forward. The +other man was standing by the table, teapot in hand. + +One thinks quickly at such a time, and Peter's mind raced. Something of +the old envy and almost fear of Donovan that he had had first that day in +the hospital came back to him. He had not seen the two together for so +long that it struck him like a blow to hear Donovan call her by her +Christian name. It flashed across his mind also that she knew that it +was his day at the hospital, and that she had deliberately gone out; but +it dawned on him equally quickly that he must hide all that. + +"I should jolly well think so," he said, laughing. "How do you do, Miss +Raynard? Donovan, can you give me some tea? I've come along the sea-wall, +and picked up a regular appetite. Are you in the habit of taking tea +here, Julie? I thought nurses were not allowed in camps." + +She looked at him quickly, but he missed the meaning of her glance. +"Rather," she said; "I come here for tea about once a week, don't I, +Jack? No, nurses are not allowed in camps, but I always do what's not +allowed as far as possible. And this is so snug and out of the way. Mr. +Pennell, you can give me a cigarette now." + +The other man offered Peter tea, which he took. "And how did the +festivities go off at Christmas?" he asked. + +"Oh, topping," said Julie. "Let me see, you were at the play, so I +needn't talk about that; but you thought it good, didn't you?" + +"Rippin'" said Peter. + +"Well," said Julie, "then there was the dance on Boxing Night. We had +glorious fun. Jack, here, behaved perfectly abominably. He sat out about +half the dances, and I should think he kissed every pretty girl in the +room. Then we went down to the nurses' quarters of the officers' hospital +and made cocoa of all things, and had a few more dances on our own. They +made me dance a skirt dance on the table, and as I had enough laces on +this time, I did. After that--but I don't think I'll tell you what we did +after that. Why didn't you come?" + +Peter had been at a big Boxing Night entertainment for the troops in the +Y.M.C.A. Central Hall, but he did not say so. "Oh," he said, "I had to go +to another stunt, but I must say I wish I'd been at yours. May I have +another cup of tea?" + +The third man gave it to him again, and then, apologizing, left the room. +Donovan exchanged glances with Julie, and she nodded. + +"I say, Graham," said Donovan, "I'll tell you what we've really met here +for to-day. We were going to fix it up and then ask you; but as you've +dropped in, we'll take it as a dispensation of Providence and let you +into the know. What do you say to a really sporting dinner at the New +Year?" + +"Who's to be asked?" queried Peter, looking round. "Fives into a dinner +won't go." + +"I should think not," cried Julie gaily. "Jack, here, is taking me, +aren't you?" Donovan said "I am" with great emphasis, and made as if he +would kiss her, and she pushed him off, laughing, holding her muff to his +face. Then she went on: "You're to take Tommy. It is Tommy's own +particular desire, and you ought to feel flattered. She says your auras +blend, whatever that may be; and as to Mr. Pennell, he's got a girl +elsewhere whom he will ask. Three and three make six; what do you think +of that?" + +"Julie," said Tommy Raynard composedly, "you're the most fearful liar +I've ever met. But I trust Captain Graham knows you well enough by now." + +"I do," said Peter, but a trifle grimly, though he tried not to show +it--"I do. I must say I'm jolly glad Donovan will be responsible for you. +It's going to be 'some' evening, I can see, and what you'll do if you get +excited I don't know. Flirt with the proprietor and have his wife down on +us, as like as not. In which event it's Donovan who'll have to make the +explanations. But come on, what are the details?" + +"Tell him, Jack," said Julie. "He's a perfect beast, and I shan't speak +to him again." + +Peter laughed. "Pas possible," he said. "But come on, Donovan; do as +you're told." + +"Well, old bird," said Donovan, "first we meet here. Got that? It's safer +than any other camp, and we don't want to meet in town. We'll have tea +and a chat and then clear off. We'll order dinner in a private room at +the Grand, and it'll be a dinner fit for the occasion. They've got some +priceless sherry there, and some old white port. Cognac fine champagne +for the liqueur, and what date do you think?--1835 as I'm alive. I saw +some the other day, and spoke about it. That gave me the idea of the +dinner really, and I put it to the old horse that that brandy was worthy +of a dinner to introduce it. He tumbled at once. Veuve Cliquot as the +main wine. What about it?" + +Peter balanced himself on the back of his chair and blew out +cigarette-smoke. + +"What time are you ordering the ambulances?" he demanded. + +"The beds, you mean," cried Julie, entirely forgetting her last words. +"That's what I say. _I_ shall never be able to walk to a taxi even." + +"I'll carry you," said Donovan. + +"You won't be able, not after such a night; besides, I don't believe you +could, anyhow. You're getting flabby from lack of exercise." + +"Am I?" cried Donovan. "Let's see, anyway." + +He darted at her, slipped an arm under her skirts and another under her +arms, and lifted her bodily from the chair. + +"Jack," she shrieked, "put me down! Oh, you beast! Tommy, help, help! +Peter, make him put me down and I'll forgive you all you've said." + +Tommy Raynard sprang up, laughing, and ran after Donovan, who could not +escape her. She threw an arm round his neck and bent his head backwards. +"I shall drop her," he shouted. Peter leaped forward, and Julie landed in +his arms. + +For a second she lay still, and Peter stared down at her. With her quick +intuition she read something new in his eyes, and instantly looked away, +scrambling out and standing there flushed and breathing hard, her hands +at her hair. "You perfect brute!" she said to Donovan, laughing. "I'll +pay you out, see if I don't. All my hair's coming down." + +"Capital!" said Donovan. "I've never seen it down, and I'd love to. Here, +let me help." + +He darted at her; she dodged behind Peter; he adroitly put out a foot, +and Donovan collapsed into the big chair. + +Julie clapped her hands and rushed at him, seizing a cushion, and the two +struggled there till Tommy Raynard pulled Julie forcibly away. + +"Julie," she said, "this is a positive bear-garden. You must behave." + +"And I," said Pennell, who had not moved, "would like to know a little +more about the dinner." He spoke so dryly that they all laughed, and +order was restored. Donovan, however, refused to get out of the big +chair, and Julie deliberately sat on his knee, smiling provocatively at +him. + +Peter felt savage and bitter. Like a man, he was easily deceived, and he +had been taken by surprise at a bad moment. But he did his best to hide +it, and merely threw any remnants of caution he had left at all to the +winds. + +"I suppose this is the best we can hope for, Captain Graham," said Miss +Raynard placidly. "Perhaps now you'll give us your views. Captain Donovan +never gets beyond the drinks, but I agree with Mr. Pennell we want +something substantial." + +"I'm blest if I don't think you all confoundedly ungrateful," said +Donovan. "I worked that fine champagne for you beautifully. Anyone would +think you could walk in and order it any day. If we get it at all, it'll +be due to me and my blarney. Not but what it does deserve a good +introduction," he added. "I don't suppose there's another bottle in the +town." + +Tommy sighed. "He's off again, or he will be," she said. "Do be quick, +Captain Graham." + +"Well," said Peter. "I suggest, first, that you leave the ordering of the +room to me, and the decorations. I've most time, and I'd like to choose +the flowers. And the smokes and crackers. And I'll worry round and get +some menu-cards, and have 'em printed in style. And, if you like, I'll +interview the chef and see what he can give us. It's not much use our +discussing details without him." + +"'A Daniel come to judgment,'" said Pennell. "Padre, I didn't know you +had it in you." + +"A Solomon," said Julie mischievously. + +"A Peter Graham," said Miss Raynard. "I always knew he had more sense in +his little finger than all the rest of you in your heads." + +Donovan sighed from the depths of the chair. "Graham," he said, "for +Heaven's sake remember those..." + +Julie clapped her hand over his mouth. He kissed it. She withdrew it with +a scream. + +"...Drinks," finished Donovan. "The chef must suggest accordin'." + +"Well," said Pennell, "I reckon that's settled satisfactorily. I'll get +out my invitation. In fact, I think, if I may be excused, I'll go and do +it now." He got up and reached for his cap. + +They all laughed. "We'll see to it that there's mistletoe," cried Julie. + +"Ah, thanks!" said Pennell; "that will be jolly, though some people I +know seem to get on well enough without it. So long. See you later, +padre." + +He avoided Julie's flung cushion and stepped through the door. Miss +Raynard got up. "We ought to get a move on too, my dear," she said to +Julie. + +"Oh, not yet," protested Donovan. "Let's have some bridge. There are just +four of us." + +"You can never have played bridge with Julie, Captain Donovan," said Miss +Raynard. "She usually flings the cards at you half way through the +rubber. And she never counts. The other night she played a diamond +instead of a heart, when hearts were trumps, and she had the last and +all the rest of the tricks in her hand." + +"Ah, well," said Donovan, "women are like that. They often mistake +diamonds for hearts." + +"Jack," said Julie, "you're really clever. How do you do it? I had no +idea. Does it hurt? But don't do it again; you might break something. +Peter, you've been praised this evening, but you'd never think of that." + +"He would not," said Miss Raynard.... "Come on, Julie." + +Peter hesitated a second. Then he said: "You're going my way. May I see +you home?" + +"Thanks," said Miss Raynard, and they all made a move. + +"It's deuced dark," said Donovan. "Here, let me. I'll go first with a +candle so that you shan't miss the duck-boards." + +He passed out, Tommy Raynard after him. Peter stood back to let Julie +pass, and as she did so she said: "You're very glum and very polite +to-night, Solomon. What's the matter?" + +"Am I?" said Peter; "I didn't know it. And in any case Donovan is all +right, isn't he?" + +He could have bitten his tongue out the next minute. She looked at him +and then began to laugh silently, and, still laughing, went out before +him. Peter followed miserably. At the gate Donovan said good-bye, and the +three set out for the hospital. Miss Raynard walked between Peter and +Julie, and did most of the talking, but the ground was rough and the path +narrow, and it was not until they got on to the dock road that much could +be said. + +"This is the best Christmas I've ever had," declared Miss Raynard. "I'm +feeling positively done up. There was something on every afternoon and +evening last week, and then Julie sits on my bed till daybreak, more or +less, and smokes cigarettes. We've a bottle of benedictine, too, and it +always goes to her head. The other night she did a Salome dance on the +strength of it." + +"It was really fine," said Julie. "You ought to have seen me." + +"Till the towel slipped off: not then, I hope," said Tommy dryly. + +"I don't suppose he'd have minded--would you, Peter?" + +"Not a bit," said Peter cheerfully--"on the contrary." + +"I don't know if you two are aware that you are positively indecent," +said Tommy. "Let's change the subject. What's your news, Captain Graham?" + +Peter smiled in the dark to himself. "Well," he said, "not much, but I'm +hoping for leave soon. I've pushed in for it, and our Adjutant told me +this morning he thought it would go through." + +"Lucky man! I've got to wait three months. But yours ought to be about +now, Julie." + +"I think it ought," said Julie shortly. Then: "What about the menu-cards, +Peter? Would you like me to help you choose them?" + +"Would you?" said he eagerly. "To-morrow?" + +"I'm on duty at five o'clock, but I can get off for an hour in the +afternoon. Could you come, Tommy?" + +"No. Sorry; but I must write letters. I haven't written one for ages." + +"Nor have I," said Julie, "but I don't mean to. I hate letters. Well, +what about it, Peter?" + +"I should think we had better try that stationer's in the Rue Thiers," he +said. "If that won't do, the Nouvelles Galeries might. What do you +think?" + +"Let's try the Galeries first. We could meet there. Say at three, eh? I +want to get some baby-ribbon, too." + +Tommy sighed audibly. "She's off again," she said. + +"Thank God, here's the hospital! Good-night, Captain Graham. You mustn't +cross the Rubicon to-night." + +"You oughtn't to swear before him," said Julie in mock severity. "And +what in the world is the Rubicon?" + +"Materially, to-night, it's the railway-line between his camp and the +hospital," said Tommy Raynard. "What else it is I'll leave him to +decide." + +She held out her hand, and Peter saw a quizzical look on her face. He +turned rather hopelessly to Julie. "I say," he said, "didn't you _know_ +it was my afternoon at the hospital?" + +"Yes," said Julie, "and I knew you didn't come. At least, I couldn't see +you in any of the wards." + +"Oh," he exclaimed, "I thought you'd been out all the afternoon. I'm +sorry. I am a damned fool, Julie!" + +She laughed in the darkness. "I've known worse, Peter," she said, and was +gone. + + * * * * * + +Next day Julie was in her most provocative of moods. Peter, eminently +respectable in his best tunic, waited ten minutes for her outside the +Nouvelles Galeries, and, like most men in his condition, considered that +she was never coming, and that he was the cynosure of neighbouring eyes. +When she did come, she was not apparently aware that she was late. She +ran her eyes over him, and gave a pretended gasp of surprise. "You're +looking wonderful, Padre Graham," she said. "Really, you're hard to live +up to. I never know what to expect or how to behave. Those black buttons +terrorise me. Come on." + +She insisted on getting her ribbon first, and turned over everything +there was to be seen at that counter. The French girl who served them was +highly amused. + +"Isn't that chic?" Julie demanded of Peter, holding up a lacy camisole +and deliberately putting it to her shoulders. "Wouldn't you love to see +me in it?" + +"I would," he said, without the ghost of a smile. + +"Well, you never will, of course," she said. "I shall never marry or be +given in marriage, and in any case, in that uniform, you've nothing +whatever to hope for.... Yes, I'll take that ribbon, thank you, +ma'm'selle. Peter, I suppose you can't carry it for me. Your pocket? Not +a bad idea; but let me put it in." + +Peter stood while she undid his breast-pocket and stuffed it inside. + +"Anything more?" demanded the French saleswoman interrogatively. + +"Not to-day, merci," said Julie. "You see, Peter, you couldn't carry +undies for me, even in your pocket; it wouldn't be respectable. _Do_ come +on. You will keep us here the entire day." + +They passed the smoking department, and she stopped suddenly. "Peter," +she said, "I'm going to give you a pipe. Those chocolates you gave me at +Christmas were too delicious for anything. What sort do you like? A +briar? Let me see if it blows nicely." She put it to her lips. "I swear +I shall start a pipe soon, in my old age. By the way, I don't believe you +have any idea how old I am--have you, Peter? Guess." + +She was quick to note the return to his old manner. He was nervous with +her, not sure of himself, and so not sure of her either. And she traded +on it. At the stationery department she made eyes at a couple of +officers, and insisted on examining Kirschner picture-postcards, some of +which she would not show him. "You can't possibly be seen looking at them +with those badges up," she whispered. "Dear me, if only Donovan were +here! He wouldn't mind, and I don't know which packet I like best. These +have got very little on, Peter--_very_ little, but I'm not sure that they +are not more decent than those. It's _much_ worse than a camisole, +you know...." + +Peter was horribly conscious that the men were smiling at her. "Julie," +he said desperately, "_do_ be sensible, just for a minute. We must get +those menu-cards." + +"Well, you go and find the books," she said merrily. "I told you you +ought not to watch me buy these. I'll take the best care of myself," and +she looked past him towards the men. + +Peter gave it up. "Julie," he said savagely, "if you make eyes any more, +I'll kiss you here and now--I swear I will." + +Julie laughed her little nearly silent chuckle, and looked at him. "I +believe you would, Peter," she said, "and I certainly mustn't risk that. +I'll be good. Are those the books? Fetch me a chair, then, and I'll look +through them." + +He bent over her as she turned the leaves. She wore a little toque that +had some relation to a nurse's uniform, but was distinctive of Julie. Her +fringe of brown hair lay along her forehead, and the thick masses of the +rest of it tempted him almost beyond endurance. "How will that do?" she +demanded, her eyes dancing. "Oh, do look at the cards and not at me! +You're a terrible person to bring shopping, Peter!" + +The card selected, she had a bright idea. "What about candle-shades?" she +queried. "We can't trust the hotel. I want some with violets on them: I +love violets." + +"Do you?" he said eagerly. "That's just what I wanted to know. Yes, it's +a fine idea; let's go and get them." + +Outside, she gave a sigh of relief, and looked at the little gold +wrist-watch on her arm. "We've time," she said. "Take me to tea." + +"You must know it's not possible," he said. "They're enforcing the order, +and one can't get tea anywhere." + +She shook her head at him. "I think, Peter," she said, "you'll never +learn the ropes. Follow me." + +Not literally, but metaphorically, he followed her. She led him to a big +confectioner's with two doors and several windows, in each of which was a +big notice of the new law forbidding teas or the purchase of chocolates. +Inside, she walked up to a girl who was standing by a counter, and who +greeted her with a smile. "It is cold outside," she said. "May I have a +warm by the fire?" + +"Certainly, mademoiselle," said the girl. "And monsieur also. Will it +please you to come round here?" + +They went behind the counter and in at a little door. There was a fire in +the grate of the small kitchen, and a kettle singing on the hob. Julie +sat down on a chair at the wooden table and looked round with +satisfaction. + +"Why, it's all ready for us!" she exclaimed. "Chocolate cakes, Suzanne, +please, _and_ hot buttered scones. I'll butter them, if you bring the +scones." + +They came, and she went to the fire, splitting them open and spreading +the butter lavishly. "I love France," she said. "All laws are made to be +broken, which is all that laws are good for, don't you think?" + +"Yes," he said deliberately, glancing at the closed door, and bent and +kissed her neck. She looked up imperiously. "Again," she said; and he +kissed her on the lips. At that she jumped up with a quick return to the +old manner: "Peter! For a parson you are the outside edge. Go and sit +down over there and recollect yourself. To begin with, if we're found, +here, there'll be a row, and if you're caught kissing me, who knows what +will happen?" + +He obeyed gaily. "Chaff away, Julie," he said, "but I shan't wear black +buttons at the dinner. You'll have to look out that night." + +She put the scones on the table, and sat down. "And if I don't?" she +queried. Peter said nothing. He had suddenly thought of something. He +looked at her, and for the first time she would not meet his eyes. + +It was thought better on New Year's Eve that they should go separately to +Donovan's camp, so Peter and Pennell set out for it alone. By the canal +Pennell left his friend to go and meet Elsie Harding, the third girl. +Peter went on alone, and found Donovan, giving some orders in the camp. +He stood with him till they saw the other four, who had met on the +tow-path, coming in together. + +"He's a dark horse," called Julie, almost before they had come up, "and +so's she. Fancy Elsie being the third! I didn't know they knew each +other. We're a Colonial party to-night, Jack--all except Peter, that is, +for Mr. Pennell is more Canadian than English. We'll teach them. By the +way, I can't go on saying 'Mr. Pennell' all night. What shall I call him, +Elsie?" + +Peter saw that the new-comer wore an Australian brooch, and caught the +unmistakable but charming accent in her reply. "He's 'Trevor' to me, and +he can be to you, if you like, Julie," she said. + +Tommy sighed audibly. "They're beginning early," she said; "but I suppose +the rest of us had better follow the general example--eh, Peter?" + +In the anteroom, where tea was ready, Peter saw that Elsie was likely to +play Julie a good second. She was tall, taller than Pennell himself, and +dark skinned, with black hair and full red lips, and rather bigly built. +It appeared that her great gift was a set of double joints that allowed +her to play the contortionist with great effect. "You should just see her +in tights," said Julie. "Trevor, why didn't you say whom you were +bringing, and I'd have made her put them on. Then we could have had an +exhibition, but, as it is, I suppose we can't." + +"I didn't know you knew her," he said. + +"You never have time to talk of other people when you're together, I +suppose," she retorted. "Well, I've no doubt you make the most of your +opportunities, and you're very wise. But to-night you've got to behave, +more or less--at least, till after the coffee. Otherwise all our +preparations will be wasted--won't they, Peter?" + +After tea they set off together for the tram-car that ran into town. It +was Julie who had decided this. She said she liked to see the people, and +the cars were so perfectly absurd, which was true. Also, that it would be +too early to enjoy taxis, the which was very like her. So they walked in +a body to the terminus, where a crowd of Tommies and French workmen and +factory girls were waiting. The night was cloudy and a little damp, but +it had the effect of adding mystery to the otherwise ugly street, and to +the great ships under repair in the dockyards close by. The lights of the +tram appeared at length round the corner, an engine-car and two trailers. +There was a bolt for them. They were packed on the steps, and the men had +to use elbows freely to get the whole party in, but the soldiers and the +workmen were in excellent humour, and the French girls openly admiring of +Julie. In the result, then, they were all hunched up in the end of a +"first" compartment, and Peter found himself with his back to the glass +door, Julie on his right, Elsie on his left. + +"Every rib I have is broken," said the former. + +"The natural or the artificial?" demanded Elsie. "Personally, I think I +broke a few of other people's." + +They started, and the rattling of the ramshackle cars stopped +conversation. Julie drew Peter's attention to a little scene on the +platform outside, and he looked through the glass to see a big French +linesman with his girl. The man had got her into a corner, and then, +coolly putting his arms out on either side to the hand-rail and to the +knob of their door, he was facing his amorata, indifferent to the +world. Peter looked at the girl's coarse face. She was a factory hand, +bareheaded, and her sleeves were rolled up at her elbows. For all that, +she was neat, as a Frenchwoman invariably is. The girl caught his gaze, +and smiled. The linesman followed the direction of her eyes and glanced +friendly at Peter too. Then he saw Julie. A look of admiration came over +his face, and he put one hand comically to his heart. The girl slapped it +in a pretended fury, and Julie doubled up with laughter in her corner. +Peter bent over her. "_'Everybody's doing it, doing it, doing it,'_" he +quoted merrily. + +The tram stopped, in the square before the Hotel de Ville. There was a +great air of festivity and bustle about as they stepped out, for the New +Year is a great time in France. Lights twinkled in the misty dark; taxis +sprinted across the open spaces; and people greeted each other gaily by +the brightly-lit shops. Somehow or another the whole thing went to +Peter's head like wine. The world was good and merry, he thought +exultantly, and he, after all, a citizen of it. He caught Julie's arm, +"Come on," he called to the others. "I know the way," And to her: "Isn't +it topping? Do you feel gloriously exhilarated? I don't know why, Julie, +but I could do anything to-night." + +She slipped her fingers down into his hand. "I'm so glad," she said. "So +could I." + +They whirled across the road, the others after them, round the little +park in the centre of the square, and down an empty side-street. Peter +had reconnoitred all approaches, he said, and this was the best way. +Begging him to give her time to breathe, Tommy came along with Donovan, +and it suddenly struck Peter that the latter seemed happy enough. He +pressed Julie's hand: "Donovan's dropped into step with Tommy very +easily," he said. "Do you mind?" + +She laughed happily and glanced back. "You're as blind as a bat, Peter, +when all's said and done," she said; "but oh, my dear, I can't play with +you to-night. There's only one person I want to walk with Peter." + +Peter all but shouted. He drew her to him, and for once Julie was +honestly alarmed. + +"Not now, you mad boy!" she exclaimed, but her eyes were enough for him. + +"All right," he laughed at her; "wait a bit. There's time yet." + +In the little entrance-hail the _maitre d'hotel_ greeted them. They were +the party of importance that night. He ushered them upstairs and opened a +door. The mademoiselles might make the toilette there. Another door: they +would eat here. + +The men deposited their caps and sticks and coats on pegs outside, and +the girls, who had had to come in uniform also, were ready as soon as +they. They went in together. Elsie gave a little whistle of surprise. + +Peter had certainly done well. Holly and mistletoe were round the walls, +and a big bunch of the latter was placed in such a way that it would hang +over the party as they sat afterwards by the fire. In the centre a silver +bowl held glorious roses, white and red, and at each girl's place was +a bunch of Parma violets and a few sprigs of flowering mimosa. Bon-bons +were spread over the white cloth. Julie's candle-shades looked perfect, +and so did the menu-cards. + +"I trust that monsieur is satisfied," said the _maitre d'hotel_, bowing +towards the man who had had the dealings with him. He got his answer, but +not from Peter, and, being a Frenchman, smiled, bowed again, and +discreetly left the room; for Elsie, turning to Peter cried: "Did you do +it--even the wattle?" and kissed him heartily. He kissed her back, and +caught hold of Julie. "Tit for tat," he said to her under his breath, +holding her arms; "do you remember our first taxi?" Then, louder: "Julie +is responsible for most of it," and he kissed her too. + +They sorted themselves out at last, and the dinner, that two of them at +least who were there that night were never to forget, began. They were +uproariously merry, and the two girls who waited came and went wreathed +in smiles. + +With the champagne came a discussion over the cork. "Give it to me" cried +Julie; "I want to wear it for luck." + +"So do I," said Elsie; "we must toss for it." + +Julie agreed, and they spun a coin solemnly. + +"It's mine," cried Elsie, and pounced for it. + +Julie snatched it away, "No, you don't," she said. "A man must put it in, +or there's no luck in it. Here you are, Trevor." + +Pennell took it, laughing, and pushed back his chair. The others stood up +and craned over to see. Elsie drew up her skirt and Trevor pushed it +down her stocking amid screams of laughter, and the rattle of chaff. + +"No higher or I faint," said Tommy. + +Trevor stood up, a little flushed. "Here," said Peter, filling his glass +with what was left in the bottle, "drink this, Pen. You sure want it." + +"It's your turn next," said Trevor, "and, by Jove, the bottle's empty! +Encore le vin," he called. + +"Good idea. It's Julie's next cork, and Graham's the man to do it." said +Jack Donovan. "And then it'll be your turn, Tommy." + +"And yours," she said, glancing at him. + +"Bet you won't dare," said Elsie. + +"Who won't?" retorted Julie. + +"Peter, of course." + +"My dear, you don't know Peter. Here you are, Peter; let's show them." + +She tossed the cork to him and stood up coolly, put up her foot on the +edge of the table, and lifted her skirt. Peter pushed the cork into its +traditional place amid cheers, but he hardly heard. His fingers had +touched her skin, and he had seen the look in her eyes. No wine could +have intoxicated him so. He raised his glass. "Toasts!" he shouted. + +They took him up and everyone rose to their feet. + +"'Here's to all those that I love; +Here's to all those that love me; +Here's to all those that love them that love those +That love those that love them that love me!'" + +he chanted. + +"Julie's turn," cried Elsie. + +"No," she said; "they know all my toasts." + +"Not all," said Donovan; "there was one you never finished--something +about Blighty." + +"Rhymes with nighty," put in Tommy coolly; "don't you remember, Julie?" + +It seemed to Peter that he and Julie stood there looking at each other +for seconds, but probably no one but Tommy noticed. "Take it as read," +cried Peter boisterously, and emptied his glass. His example was +infectious, and they all followed suit, but Donovan remarked across the +table to him: + +"You spoiled a humorous situation, old dear." + +Dinner over, they pushed the table against the wall, and pulled chairs +round the fire. Dessert, crackers, chocolates and cigarettes were piled +on a small table, and the famous liqueur came in with the coffee. They +filled the little glasses. "This is a great occasion," said Donovan; +"let's celebrate it properly. Julie, give us a dance first." + +She sprang up at once. "Right-o," she said. "Clear the table." + +They pushed everything to one side, and Peter held out his hand. Just +touching his fingers, she leaped up, and next minute circled there in a +whirl of skirts. A piano stood in a corner of the room, and Elsie ran to +it. Looking over her shoulder, she caught the pace, and the notes rang +out merrily. + +Julie was the very spirit of devilment and fun. So light that she seemed +hardly to touch the table, she danced as if born to it. It was such an +incarnation of grace and music that a little silence fell on them all. To +Peter she appeared to dance to him. He could not take his eyes off her; +he cared nothing what others thought or saw. There was a mist before him +and thunder in his ears. He saw only her flushed, childlike face and +sparkling brown eyes, and a wave of her loosened hair that slipped across +them.... + +The music ceased. Panting for breath, she leaped down amid a chorus of +"Bravo's!" and held out her hand for the liqueur-glass. Peter put it in +her fingers, and he was trembling more than she, and spilt a little of +it. "Well, here's the best," she cried, and raised the glass. Then, with +a gay laugh, she put her moistened fingers to his mouth and he kissed +them, the spirit on his lips. + +And now Elsie must show herself off. They sat down to watch her, and a +more insidious feeling crept over Peter as he did so. The girl bent her +body this way and that; arched herself over and looked at them between +her feet; twisted herself awry and made faces at them. They laughed, but +there was a new note in the laughter. An intense look had come into +Pennell's face, and Donovan was lolling back, his head on one side, +smiling evilly. + +She finished and straightened herself, and they had more of the liqueur. +Then Tommy, as usual, remembered herself. "Girls," she said, "we must go. +It's fearfully late." + +Donovan sat up. "What about taxis?" he demanded. + +Peter went to the door. "They'll fetch them," he said. "I've made an +arrangement." + +He went a little unsteadily to find the _maitre d'hotel_, and a boy was +despatched, while he settled the bill. They were tramping down the stairs +as he came out of the little office. Julie leading and laughing +uproariously at some joke. Donovan and Tommy were the steadiest, and they +came down together. It seemed to Peter that it was natural for them to do +so. + +Pennell and Elsie got into one taxi. She leaned out of the window and +waved her hand. "We're the luckiest," she called; "we've the farthest to +go. Good-night everyone, and thanks ever so much." + +A second taxi came up. "Jump in, Julie," said Tommy. + +She got in, and Peter put his hand on the door. "I've settled everything, +Donovan," he said. "See you to-morrow. Good-night, Tommy." + +"Good-night," she called back, and he got in. And next minute he was +alone with Julie. + +In the closed and darkened taxi he put his arm round her and drew her to +him. "Oh, my darling," he murmured. "Julie, do you love me as I love you? +I can't live without you." He covered her face with hot kisses, and she +kissed him back. + +"Julie," he said at length, breathlessly, "listen. My leave's come. I +knew this morning. Couldn't you possibly be in England when I am? I saw +you first on the boat coming over--remember? And you're due again." + +"When do you go?" she queried. + +"Fourteenth," he answered. + +She considered. "I couldn't get off by then," she said, "but I might the +twenty-first or thereabouts. I'm due, as you say, and I think it could be +managed." + +"Would you?" he demanded, and hung on her words. + +She turned her face up to him, and even in the dark he could see her +glowing eyes. "It would be heaven, Peter," she whispered. + +He kissed her passionately. + +"I could meet you in town easily," he said. + +"Not the leave-boat train," she replied; "it's not safe. Anyone might be +there. But I'll run down for a day or two to some friends in Sussex, and +then come up to visit more in town. I know very few people, of course, +and all my relations are in South Africa. No one would know to whom I +went, and if I didn't go to them, Peter, why nobody would know either." + +"Splendid!" he answered, the blood pounding in his temples. "I'll make +all the arrangements. Shall I take a flat, or shall we go to an hotel? An +hotel's more fun, perhaps, and we can have a suite." + +She leaned over against him and caught his hand to her breast, with a +little intake of breath. + +"I'll leave it all to you, my darling," she whispered. + +The taxi swung into the clearing before the hospital. "Peter," said +Julie, "Tommy's so sharp; I believe she'll suspect something." + +"I don't care a damn for anyone!" said Peter fiercely; "let her. I only +want you." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Peter secured his leave for Monday the 21st from Boulogne, which +necessitated his leaving Le Havre at least twenty-four hours before that +day. There were two ways of travelling--across country in a troop-train, +or by French expresses via Paris. He had heard so much of the latter plan +that he determined to try it. It had appeared to belong to the reputation +of the Church. + +His movement order was simply from the one port to the other, and was +probably good enough either way round with French officials; but there +was a paper attached to it indicating that the personnel in question +would report at such a time to the R.T.O. at such a station, and the time +and the station spelt troop-train unmistakably. Now, the troop-train +set out on its devious journey an hour later than the Paris express from +the same station, and the hour of the Paris express corresponded with the +time that all decent officers go to dinner. Peter therefore removed the +first paper, folded it up thoughtfully, and put it in his pocket. He then +reported to the R.T.O. a quarter of an hour before the Paris train +started, and found, as he expected, a N.C.O. in sole charge. The man took +his paper and read it. He turned it over; there was no indication of +route anywhere. "Which train are you going by, sir?" he asked. + +"Paris mail," said Peter coolly. "Will you please put my stuff in a +first?" + +"Certainly, sir," said the man, endorsed the order to that effect, and +shouldered a suit-case. Peter followed him. He was given a first to +himself, and the Deputy R.T.O. saw the French inspector and showed him +the paper. Peter strolled off and collected a bottle of wine, some +sandwiches, and some newspapers; then he made himself comfortable. +The train left punctually. Peter lay back in his corner and watched the +country slip by contentedly. He had grown up, had this young man. + +He arrived in Paris with the dawn of Sunday morning, and looked out +cautiously. There was no English official visible. However, his papers +were entirely correct, and he climbed up the stairs and wandered along a +corridor in which hands and letters from time to time indicated the lair +of the R.T.O. Arriving, he found another officer waiting, but no R.T.O. +The other was "bored stiff," he said; he had sat there an hour, but had +seen no sign of the Transport Officer. Peter smiled, and replied that he +had no intention whatever of waiting; he only wanted to know the times of +the Boulogne trains. These he discovered by the aid of a railway guide on +the table, and selected the midnight train, which would land him in +Boulogne in time for the first leave-boat, if the train were punctual and +the leave-boat not too early. In any case, he could take the second, +which would only mean Victoria a few hours later that same day. And these +details settled, he left his luggage in a corner and strolled off into +the city. + +A big city, seen for the first time by oneself alone when one does not +know a soul in it, may be intensely boring or intensely interesting. It +depends on oneself. Peter was in the mood to be interested. He was +introspective. It pleased him to watch the early morning stir; to see the +women come out in shawls and slipshod slippers and swill down their bit +of pavement; to see sleepy shopkeepers take down their shutters and +street-vendors set up their stalls; to try to gauge the thoughts and +doings of the place from the shop-windows and the advertisements. His +first need was a wash and a shave, and he got both at a little barber's +in which monsieur attended to him, while madame, in considerable +_negligee_, made her toilette before the next glass. His second was +breakfast, and he got it, _a l'anglaise_, with an omelette and jam, in a +just-stirring hotel; and then, set up, he strolled off for the centre of +things. Many Masses were in progress at the Madeleine, and he heard one +or two with a curious contentment, but they had no lesson for him, +probably because of the foreign element in the atmosphere, and he did +not pray. Still, he sat, chiefly, and watched, until he felt how entirely +he was a stranger here, and went out into the sun. + +He made his way to the river, and lingered there long. The great +cathedral, with its bare January trees silhouetted to the last twig +against the clear sky, its massive buttresses, and its cluster of smaller +buildings, held his imagination. He went in, but they were beginning to +sing Mass, and he soon came out. He crossed to the farther bank and found +a seat and lit a pipe. Sitting there, his imagination awoke. He conceived +the pageant of faith that had raised those walls. Kings and lords and +knights, all the glitter and gold of the Middle Ages, had come there--and +gone; Bishops and Archbishops, and even Popes, had had their day of +splendour there--and gone; the humbler sort, in the peasant dress of +the period, speaking quaint tongues, had brought their sorrows there and +their joys--and gone; yet it seemed to him that they had not so surely +gone. The great have their individual day and disappear, but the poor, in +their corporate indistinguishableness remain. The multitude, petty in +their trivial wants and griefs, find no historian and leave no monument. +Yet, ultimately, it was because of the Christian faith in the compassion +of God for such that Notre-Dame lifted her towers to the sky. The stage +for the mighty doings of Kings, it was the home of the people. As he had +seen them just now, creeping about the aisles, lighting little tapers, +crouched in a corner, so had they always been. Kings and Bishops figured +for a moment in pomp before the altar, and then monuments must be erected +to their memory. But it was not so with the poor. Peter, in a glow of +warmth, considered that he was in truth one of them. And Jesus had +had compassion on the multitude, he remembered. The text recalled him, +and he frowned to himself. + +He knocked out his pipe, and set out leisurely to find luncheon. The +famous book-boxes held him, and he bought a print or two. In a restaurant +near the Chatelet he got _dejeuner_, and then, remembering Julie, bought +and wrote a picture-postcard, and took a taxi for the Bois. He was +driven about for an hour or more, and watched the people lured out by the +sun, watched the troops of all the armies, watched an aeroplane swing +high over the trees and soar off towards Versailles. He discharged his +car at the Arc de Triomphe, and set about deciphering the carven +pictures. Then, he walked up the great Avenue, made his way to the +Place de la Republique, wandered through the gardens of the Louvre, and, +as dusk fell, found himself in the Avenue de l'Opera. It was very gay. He +had a bock at a little marble table, and courteously declined the +invitations of a lady of considerable age painted to look young. He at +first simply refused, and finally cursed into silence, a weedy, flash +youth who offered to show him the sights of the city in an apparently +ascending scale till he reached the final lure of a _cancan_, and he +dined greatly at a palace of a restaurant. Then, tired, he did not know +what to do. + +A girl passing, smiled at him, and he smiled back. She came and sat down. +He looked bored, she told him, which was a thing one should not be in +Paris, and she offered to assist him to get rid of the plague. + +"What do you suggest?" he demanded. + +She shrugged her shoulders--anything that he pleased. + +"But I don't know what I want," he objected. + +"Ah, well, I have a flat near," she said--"a charming flat. We need not +be bored there." + +Peter demurred. He had to catch the midnight train. She made a little +gesture; there was plenty of time. + +He regarded her attentively. "See, mademoiselle," he said, "I do not want +that. But I am alone and I want company. Will you not stroll about Paris +with me for an hour or two, and talk?" + +She smiled. Monsieur was unreasonable. She had her time to consider; she +could not waste it. + +Peter took his case from his pocket and selected a note, folded it, and +handed it to her, without a word. She slipped it into her bag. "Give me a +cigarette," she said. "Let us have one little glass here, and then we +will go on to an 'otel I know, and hear the band and see the dresses, and +talk--is it not so?" + +He could not have found a better companion. In the great lounge, later +on, leaning back by his side, she chatted shrewdly and with merriment. +She described dresses and laughed at his ignorance. She acclaimed certain +pieces, and showed a real knowledge of music. She told him of life in +Paris when the Hun had all but knocked at the gates, of the gaiety of +relief, of things big and little, of the flowers in the Bois in the +spring. He said little, but enjoyed himself. Much later she went with him +to the station, and they stood outside to say good-bye. + +"Well, little girl," he said, "you have given me a good evening, and I am +very grateful. But I do not even know your name. Tell it me, that I may +remember." + +"Mariette," she said. "And will monsieur not take my card? He may be in +Paris again. He is tres agreable; I should like much to content him. One +meets many, but there are few one would care to see again." + +Peter smiled sadly. For the first time a wistful note had crept into her +voice. He thought of others like her that he knew, and he spoke very +tenderly. "No, Mariette," he said. "If I came back I might spoil a +memory. Good-bye. God bless you!" and he held out his hand. She hesitated +a second. Then she turned back to the taxi. + +"Where would you like to go?" he demanded. + +She leaned out and glanced up at the clock. "L'Avenue de l'Opera," she +said, "s'il vous plait." + +The man thrust in the clutch with his foot, and Mariette was lost to +Peter for ever in the multitude. + +In Boulogne he heard that he was late for the first boat, but caught the +second easily. Remembering Donovan's advice, he got his ticket for the +Pullman at once, and was soon rolling luxuriously to town. The station +was bustling as it had done what seemed to him an age before, but he +stepped out with the feeling that he was no longer a fresher in the +world's or any other university. Declining assistance, he walked over to +the Grosvenor and engaged a room, dined, and then strolled out into +Victoria Street. + +It was all so familiar and it was all so different. He stood aloof and +looked at himself, and played with the thought. It was incredible that he +was the Peter Graham of less than a year before, and that he walked where +he had walked a score of times. He went up Whitehall, and across the +Square, and hesitated whether or not he should take the Strand. Deciding +against it, he made his way to Piccadilly Circus and chose a music-hall +that advertised a world-famous comedian. He heard him and came out, still +laughing to himself, and then he walked down Piccadilly to Hyde Park +Corner, and stood for a minute looking up Park Lane. Hilda ought to come +down, he said to himself amusedly. Then, marvelling that he could be +amused at all at the thought, he turned off for his hotel. + +It is nothing to write down, but to Peter it was very much. Everything +was old, but everything was new to him. At his hotel he smoked a +cigarette in the lounge just to watch the men and women who came and +went, and then he declined the lift and ascended the big staircase to his +room. As he went, it struck him why it was that he felt so much wiser +than he had been; that he looked on London from the inside, whereas he +had used to look from the outside only; that he looked with a charity of +which he had never dreamed, and that he was amazingly content. And as he +got into bed he thought that when next he slept in town he would not be +alone. He would have crossed Tommy's Rubicon. + +Next morning he went down into the country to relations who did not +interest him at all; but he walked and rode and enjoyed the English +countryside with zest. He went to the little country church on the Sunday +twice, to Matins and Evensong, and he came home and read that chapter of +Mr. Wells' book in which Mr. Britling expounds the domestication of God. +And he had some fierce moments in which he thought of Louise, and of +Lucienne's sister, and of Mariette, and of Pennell, and, last of all, of +Jenks, and asked himself of what use a domesticated God could be to any +of them. And then on the Thursday he came up to meet Julie. + +It thrilled him that she was in England somewhere and preparing to come +to him. His pulses beat so as he thought of it that every other +consideration was temporarily driven from his mind; but presently he +caught himself thinking what ought to be done, and of what she would be +like. He turned it over in his mind. He had known her in France, +in uniform, when he was not sure of her; but now, what would she be like? +He could not conceive, and he banished the idea. It would be more +splendid when it occurred if he had made no imaginary construction of it. + +His station was King's Cross, and he took a taxi to a big central hotel +in the neighbourhood of Regent Street. And as he passed its doors they +closed irrevocably on his past. + +The girl at the bureau looked up and smiled. "Good-morning," she said. +"What can I do for you? We are very full." + +"Good-morning," he replied. "I expect you are, but my wife is coming up +to town this afternoon, and we have only a few days together. We want to +be as central as possible. Have you a small suite over the week-end?" + +"I don't know," she said, and pulled the big book toward her. She +ran a finger down the page. "Four-twenty," she said--"double bedroom, +sitting-room, and bathroom, how would that do?" + +"It sounds capital," said Peter. "May I go and see it?" + +She turned in her seat, reached for a key, and touched a button. A man +appeared, soundlessly on the thick, rich carpet. "Show this officer +four-twenty, will you?" she said, and turned to someone else. What means +so much to some of us is everyday business to others. + +Peter followed across the hall and into a lift. They went up high, got +out in a corridor, took a turn to the right, and stopped before a door +numbered 420. The man opened it. Peter was led into a little hall, with +two doors leading from it. The first room was the sitting-room. It was +charmingly furnished and very cosy, a couple of good prints on the +walls, wide fireplace, a tall standard lamp, some delightfully easy +chairs--all this he took in at a glance. He walked to the window and +looked out. Far below was the great thoroughfare, and beyond a wilderness +of roofs and spires. He stood and gazed at it. London seemed a different +place up there. He felt remote, and looked again into the street. Its +business rolled on indifferent to him, and unaware. He glanced back into +the snug pretty little room. How easy it all was, how secure! "This is +excellent," he said, "Show me the bedroom." + +"This way, sir," said, the man. + +The bedroom was large and airy. A pretty light paper covered the walls, +and two beds stood against one of them, side by side. The sun shone in at +the big double windows and fell on the white paint of the woodwork, the +plate-glass tops of the toilet-tables, and the thick cream-coloured +carpet. A door was open on his right. He walked across, and looked in +there too. A tiled bathroom, he saw it was, the clean towels on the +highly polished brass rail heated by steam, the cork-mat against the +wall, the shower, douche, and spray all complete, even the big cake of +delicious-looking soap on its sliding rack across the bath. He looked as +a man in a fairy-story might look. It was as if an enchanted palace, with +the princess just round the corner, had been offered him. Smiling at the +conceit, he turned to the man. "I didn't notice the telephone," he said; +"I suppose it is installed?" + +"In each room, sir," said the man. + +"That will do," said Peter. "It will suit me admirably. Have my baggage +sent up, will you, and say that I engage the suite. I will be down +presently." + +"Yes, sir," said the man, and departed. + +Peter went back to the sitting-room, and threw himself into a chair. Then +he had an idea, got up, went to the telephone, ordered a bottle of whisky +to be sent up, and a siphon, and went back to his seat. Presently he was +pouring himself out a drink and smoking a cigarette on his own +(temporary) hearth-rug. The little incident increased his satisfaction. +He was reassuring himself. Here he was really safe and remote and master, +with a thousand servants and a huge palace at his beck and call, and all +for a few pounds! It was absurd, but he thought to himself that he was +feeling civilised for the first time, perhaps. + +He looked round, and considered Julie. What would she want? Flowers to +begin with, heaps of them; she liked violets for one thing, and by hook +or by crook he would get a little wattle or mimosa to remind her of +Africa. Then chocolates and cigarettes, both must never be lacking, and +a few books--no, not books, magazines; and he would have some wine sent +up. What else? Biscuits; after the theatre they might be jolly. Ah, the +theatre! he must book seats. Well, a box would be better; they did not +want to run too great a risk of being seen. Donovan was quite possibly in +town, to say nothing of--older friends. Possibly, considering the run on +the theatres, he had better book up fairly completely for the days they +had together. But what would she like? Julie would never want to go if +she did not spontaneously fancy a play. It was a portentous question, and +he considered it long. Finally he decided on half-and-half measures, +leaving some time free.... Time! how did it go? By Jove! he ought to make +a move. Luncheon first; his last meal alone for some time; then order the +things; and Victoria at 5.30. He poured himself another short drink and +went out. + +He lunched in a big public grill-room, and chatted with a naval officer +at his table who was engaged in mine-sweeping with a steam-tramp. The +latter was not vastly enthusiastic over things, but was chiefly depressed +because he had to report at a naval base that night, and his short London +leave was all but run out. + +"Tell you what," he said, "I've seen a good many cities one way and +another, from San Francisco to Singapore, and I know Paris and Brussels +and Berlin, but you can take my word for it, there's no better place for +ten days' leave than this same old blessed London. You can have some +spree out East if you want it, but you can get much the same, if not +better, here. If a fellow wants a bit of a skirt, he can get as good a +pick in London as anywhere. If you want a good show, there isn't another +spot in the universe that can beat it, whatever it is you feel like. If +you want to slip out of sight for a bit, give me a big hotel like this +in London. They don't damn-well worry about identification papers much +here--too little, p'raps, these days. Did you hear of those German +submarine officers who lived in an hotel in Southampton?" + +Peter had; there were few people who hadn't, seeing that the same +officers lived in most of the coast towns in England that year; but it is +a pity to damp enthusiasm. He said he had heard a little. + +"Walked in and out cool as you please. When they were drowned and picked +up at sea, they had bills and theatre tickets in their pockets, and a +letter acknowledging the booking of rooms for the next week! Fact. Had it +from the fellow who got 'em. And I ask you, what is there to prevent +it? You come here: 'Will you write your name and regiment, please.' You +write the damned thing--any old thing, in fact--and what happens? +Nothing. They don't refer to them. In France the lists go to a central +bureau every day, but here--Lord bless you, the Kaiser himself might put +up anywhere if he shaved his moustache!" + +Peter heard him, well content. He offered a cigarette, feeling warmly +disposed towards the world at large. The naval officer took it. "Thanks," +he said. "You in town for long?" + +"No," said Peter--"a week end. I've only just happened. What's worth +seeing?" + +"First and last all the way, _Carminetta_. It's a dream. Wonderful. By +Gad, I don't know how that girl does it! Then I'd try _Zigzag_--oh! and +go to _You Never Know, You Know_, at the Cri. Absolutely toppin'. A +perfect scream all through. The thing at Daly's' good too; but all the +shows are good, though, I reckon. Lumme, you wouldn't think the war was +on, 'cept they all touch it a bit! _The Better 'Ole_ I like, but you +mightn't, knowing the real thing. But don't miss _Carminetta_ if you have +to stand all day for a seat in the gods. Well, I must be going. Damned +rough luck, but no help for it. Let's have a last spot, eh?" + +Peter agreed, and the drinks were ordered. "Chin-chin," said his +acquaintance. "And here's to old London town, and the Good Lord let me +see it again. It's less than even chances," he added reflectively. + +"Here's luck," said Peter; then, for he couldn't help it: "It's you +chaps, by God, that are winning this war!" + +"Oh, I don't know," said the other, rising. "We get more leave than you +fellows, and I'd sooner be on my tramp than in the trenches. The sea's +good and clean to die in, anyway. Cheerio." + +Peter followed him out in a few minutes, and set about his shopping. He +found a florist's in Regent Street and bought lavishly. The girl smiled +at him, and suggested this and that. "Having a dinner somewhere +to-night?" she queried. "But I have no violets." + +"Got my girl comin' up," said Peter expansively; "that's why there must +be violets. See if you can get me some and send them over, will you?" he +asked, naming his hotel. She promised to do her best, and he departed. + +He went into a chocolate shop. "Got some really decent chocolates?" he +demanded. + +The girl smiled and dived under the counter. "These are the best," she +said, holding out a shovelful for Peter to taste. He tried one. "They'll +do," he said. "Give me a couple of pounds, in a pretty box if you've got +one." + +"Two pounds!" she exclaimed. "What are you thinking of? We can only sell +a quarter." + +"Only a quarter!" said Peter. "That's no good. Come on, make up the two +pounds." + +"If my boss comes in or finds out I'll be fired," said the girl; "can't +be done." + +"Well, that doesn't matter," said Peter innocently, "You'll easily get a +job--something better and easier, I expect." + +"It's easy enough, perhaps," said the girl, "but you never can tell. +_And_ it's dangerous, _and_ uncertain." + +Peter stared at her. When he bought chocolates as a parson, he never had +talks like this. He wondered if London had changed since he knew it. Then +he played up: "You're pretty enough to knock that last out, anyway?" he +said. + +"Am I?" she demanded. "Do you mean you'd like to keep me?" + +"I've got one week-end left of leave," said Peter. "What about the +chocolates?" + +"Poor boy!" she said. "Well, I'll risk it." And she made up the two +pounds. + +He wandered into a tobacconist's, and bought cigarettes which Julie's +soul loved, and then he made for a theatre booking-office. + +Outside and his business done, he looked at his watch, and found he had a +bit of time to spare. He walked down Shaftesbury Avenue, and thought he +would get himself spruced up at a hairdresser's. He saw a little place +with a foreigner at the door, and he went in. It was a tiny room with +three seats all empty. The man seated him in one and began. + +Peter discovered that his hair needed this and that, and being in a good +temper and an idle mood acquiesced. Presently a girl came in. Peter smelt +her enter, and then saw her in the glass. She was short and dark and +foreign, too, and she wore a blouse that appeared to have remarkably +little beneath it, and to be about to slip off her shoulders. She came +forward and stood between him and the glass, smiling. "Wouldn't you like +your nails manicured?" she demanded. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Peter; "I had not meant to ..." and was lost. + +"Second thoughts are best," she said; "but let me look at your hands. +Oh, I should think you did need it! Whatever will your girl say to you +to-night if you have hands like this?" + +Peter, humiliated, looked at his hands. They did not appear to him to +differ much from the hands Julie and others had seen without visible +consternation before, but he had no time to say so. The young lady was +now seated by his side with a basin of hot water, and was dabbling his +hand in it. "Nice? Not too hot?" she inquired brightly. + +Peter watched her as she bent over her work and kept up a running fire of +talk. He gathered that many officers habitually were manicured by her, +many of them in their own rooms. It was lucky for him that she was not +out. Possibly he would like to make an appointment; she could come early +or late. No? Then she thought his own manicure-set must be a poor one, +judging from these hands, and perhaps she could sell him another. No? +Well, a little cream. Not to-day? He would look in to-morrow? He +hadn't a chance? She would tell him what: where was he staying? (Peter, +for the fun of it, told her he had a private suite in the hotel.) Well, +that was splendid. She would call in with a new set at any time, before +breakfast, after the theatre, as he pleased; bring the cream and do his +hands once with it to show him how. How would that suit him? + +Peter was not required to say, for at that minute the shop-bell rang and +a priest came in, a little old man, tired-looking, in a black cassock. He +was apparently known, though he seemed to take no notice of anyone. The +man was all civility, but put on an expression meant to indicate +amusement, to Peter, behind the clerical back. The girl put one of +Peter's fingers on her own lips by way of directing caution, and +continued more or less in silence. The room became all but silent save +for the sound of scissors and the noise of the traffic outside, and Peter +reflected again on many things. When he had had his hair cut previously, +for instance, had people made faces behind his back? Had young ladies +ceased from tempting offers that seemed to include more than manicuring? + +He got up to pay. "Well," she demanded, _sotto voce_, "what of the +arrangement? She could do him easily at any..." + +He cut her short. No; it was really impossible. His wife was coming up +that afternoon. It was plain that she now regarded it as impossible also. +He paid an enormous sum wonderingly, and departed. + +Outside it struck him that he had forgotten one thing. He walked briskly +to the hotel, and went up to his rooms. In the sitting-room was the big +bunch of flowers and a maid unwrapping it. She turned and smiled at him. +"These have just come for you, sir," she said. "Shall I arrange them for +you?" + +"No, thank you," said Peter. "I'd rather do them myself. I love arranging +flowers, and I know just what my wife likes. I expect you'd do them +better, but I'll have a shot, if you don't mind. Would you fill the +glasses and get me a few more? We haven't enough here." + +"Certainly, sir. There was a gentleman here once who did flowers +beautifully, he did. But most likes us to do it for them." + +She departed for the glasses. Peter saw that the florist had secured his +violets, and took them first and filled a bowl. Then he walked into the +bedroom and contemplated for a minute. Then he put the violets critically +on the little table by the bed nearest the window, and stood back to see +the result. Finding it good, he departed. When next he came in, it was to +place a great bunch of roses on the mantelshelf, and a few sprays of the +soft yellow and green mimosa on the dressing-table. For the sitting-room +he had carnations and delphiniums, and he placed a high towering cluster +of the latter on the writing-table, and a vase of the former on the +mantelpiece. A few roses, left over, went on the small table that carried +the reading-lamp, and he and the chambermaid surveyed the results. + +"Lovely, I do think," she said; "any lady would love them. I likes +flowers myself, I do. I come from the country, sir, where there's a many, +and the wild flowers that Jack and I liked best of all. Specially +primroses, sir." There was a sound in her voice as she turned away, and +Peter heard it. + +"Jack?" he queried softly. + +"'E's been missing since last July, sir," she said, stopping by the door. + +"Has he?" said Peter. "Well, you must not give up hope, you know; he may +be a prisoner." + +She shook her head. "He's dead," she said, with an air of finality. "I +oughtn't to have spoke a word, but them flowers reminded me. I'm glad as +how I have to do these rooms, sir. Most of them don't bother with +flowers. Is there anything else you might be wanting, sir?" + +"Light fires in both the grates, please," he said. "I'm so sorry about +Jack," he added. + +She gave him a look, and passed out. + +Peter wandered about touching this and that. Suddenly he remembered the +magazines. He ran out and caught a lift about to descend, and was once +more in the street. Near Leicester Square was a big foreign shop, and he +entered it, and gathered of all kinds. As he went to pay, he saw _La Vie +Parisienne_, and added that also to the bundle; Julie used to say she +loved it. Back in the hotel, he sent them to his room, and glanced at his +watch. He had time for tea. He went out into the lounge and ordered it, +sitting back under the palms. It came, and he was in the act of pouring +out a cup when he saw Donovan. + +Donovan was with a girl, but so were most men; Peter could not be sure +of her. It was only a glimpse he had, for the two had finished and were +passing out. Donovan stood back to let her first through the great +swing-doors, and then, pulling on his gloves, followed. They both +disappeared. + +Peter sat on, in a tumult. He had been too busy all day to reflect much, +but now just what he was about to do began to overwhelm him. If Donovan +met him with Julie? Well, they could pretend they had just met, they +could even part, and meet again. Could they? Would Donovan be deceived +for a minute? It seemed to him impossible. And he might be staying there. +Suppose he met someone else. Langton? Sir Robert Doyle? His late Vicar? +Hilda? Mr. Lessing? And Julie would have acquaintances too. He shook +himself mentally, and lit a cigarette. Well, suppose they did; he was +finished with them. Finished? Then, what lay ahead--what, after this, if +he were discovered? And if he were not discovered? God knew.... + +His mind took a new train of thought: he was now just such a one as +Donovan. Or as Pennell. As Langton? He wasn't sure; no, he thought not; +Langton kept straight because he had a wife and kids. He had a centre. +Donovan and Pennell had not, apparently. Well, he, Peter Graham, would +have a centre; he would marry Julie. It would be heavenly. They had not +spoken of it, of course, that night of the dinner, but surely Julie +would. There could be no doubt after the week-end.... "I shan't marry or +be given in marriage," she had said. It was like her to speak so, but +of course she didn't mean it. No, he would marry; and then? + +He blew out smoke. The Colonies, South Africa; he would get a job +schoolmastering? He hated the idea; it didn't interest him. A farm? He +knew nothing about it--besides, one wanted capital. What would he do? +What did he want to do? _Want_--that was it; how did he want to spend his +life? Well, he wanted Julie; everything else would fit round her, +everything else would be secondary beside her. Of course. And as he got +old it would still be the same, though he could not imagine either of +them old. But still, when they did get old, his work would seem more +important, and what was it to be? Probably it would have to be +schoolmastering. Teaching Latin to little boys--History, Geography, +Mathematics. He smiled ruefully; even factors worried him. They would +hardly want Latin and Greek much in the Colonies, either. Perhaps at +home; but would Julie stop at home? What _would_ Julie do? He must +ask her, sometime before Monday. Not that night--no, not _that_ night.... + +He ground his cigarette into his cup, and pushed his hands into his +pockets, his feet out before him. That night! He saw the sitting-room +upstairs; they would go there first. Then he would suggest a dinner to +her, in Soho; he knew a place that Pennell had told him of, Bohemian, but +one could take anyone--at least, take Julie. It would be jolly watching +the people, and watching Julie. He saw her, mentally, opposite him, and +her eyes sparkling and alluring. And afterwards, warmed and fed--why, +back to the hotel, to the sitting-room, by the fire. They would have a +little supper, and then.... + +He pictured the bedroom. He would let Julie go first. He remembered +reading in a novel how some newly married wife said to the fellow: +"You'll come up in half an hour or so, won't you, dear?" He could all but +see the words in print. And so, in half an hour or so, he would go in, +and Julie would be in bed, by the violets, and he--he would know what men +talked about, sometimes, in the anteroom.... He recalled a red-faced, +coarse Colonel: "No man's a man till he's been all the way, I say...." + +And he was a chaplain, a priest. Was he? The past months spun before him, +his sermons, his talks to the wounded at the hospital, the things he had +seen, the stories he had heard. He sighed. It was all a dream, a sham. +There was no reality in it all. Where and what was Christ? An ideal, yes, +but no more than an ideal, and unrealisable--a vision of the beautiful. +He thought he had seen that once, but not now. The beautiful! Ah! What +place had His Beauty in Travalini's, in the shattered railway-carriage, +in the dinner at the Grand in Havre with Julie? + +Julie. He dwelt on her, eyes, hair, face, skin, and lithe figure. He felt +her kisses again on his lips, those last burning kisses of New Year's +Night, and they were all to be his, as never before.... Julie. What, +then, was she? She was his bride, his wife, coming to him consecrate--not +by any State convention, not by any ceremony of man-made religion, but by +the pure passion of human love, virginal, clean. It was human passion, +perhaps, but where was higher love or greater sacrifice? Was this not +worthy of all his careful preparation, worthy of the one centre of his +being? Donovan, indeed! He wished he had stopped and told him the whole +story, and that he expected Julie that night. + +He jumped up, and walked out in the steps of Donovan, but with never +another thought of him. A boy in uniform questioned him: "Taxi, sir?" He +nodded, and the commissionaire pushed back the great swing-door. He stood +on the steps, and watched the passers-by, and the lights all shaded as +they were, that began to usher in a night of mystery. His taxi rolled up, +and the man held the door open. "Victoria!" cried Peter, and to himself, +as he sank back on the seat, "Julie!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"Julie!" exclaimed Peter, "I should hardly have known you; you do look +topping!" + +"Glad rags make all that difference, old boy? Well, I am glad you did +know me, anyhow. How are you? Had long to wait?" + +"Only ten minutes or so, and I'm very fit, and just dying for you, +Julie." + +She smiled up at him and blushed a little. "Are you, Peter? It's much the +same here, my dear. But don't you think we had better get a move on, and +not stop here talking all night?" + +Peter laughed excitedly. "Rather," he said. "But I'm so excited at seeing +you that I hardly know if I'm on my head or my heels. What about your +luggage? What have you? Have you any idea where it is? There's a taxi +waiting." + +"I haven't much: a big suit-case, most important because it holds an +evening dress--it's marked with my initials; a small leather trunk, +borrowed, with a big star on it; and my dressing-case, which is here. And +I _think_ they're behind, but I wouldn't swear, because we've seemed to +turn round three times in the course of the journey, but it may have +been four!" + +Peter chuckled. She was just the old Julie, but yet with a touch of +something more shining in her eyes, and underlying even the simplest +words. + +"Well, you stand aside just a moment and I'll go and see," he said, and +he hurried off in the crowd. + +Julie stood waiting patiently by a lamp-stand while the world bustled +about her. She wore a little hat with a gay pheasant's wing in it, a dark +green travelling dress and neat brown shoes, and brown silk stockings. +Most people looked at her as they passed, including several officers, but +there was a different look in her brown eyes from that usually there, and +they all passed on unhesitatingly. + +It seemed to her a good while before Peter came up again, in his wake a +railway Amazon with the trunk on her shoulder and the suit-case in her +hand. "Sorry to keep you, dear," he said. "But there was a huge crush and +next to no porters, if these _are_ porters. It feels rotten to have a +woman carrying one's luggage, but I suppose it can't be helped. Come on. +Aren't you tired? Don't you want tea?" + +"I am a little," she said "And I do a bit. Where are we going to get it? +Do they sell teas in London, Peter, or have you taken a leaf out of my +book?" + +They laughed at the reminiscence. "Julie," said Peter, "this is my +outfit, and you shall see what you think of it. Give me your ticket, will +you? I want to see you through myself." + +She handed him a little purse without a word, and they set off together. +She was indulging in the feeling of surrender as if it were not a victory +she had won, and he was glowing with the sense of acquisition, as if he +had really acquired something. + +Julie got into the taxi while Peter settled the luggage, gave directions, +and paid the Amazon. Then he climbed in and pulled the door to, and they +slipped out of the crowded station-yard into the roar of London. Julie +put her hand in his. "Peter," she said, "do tell me where we're going. +I'm dying to know. What arrangements have you made? Is it safe?" + +He leaned over her, his eyes sparkling. "A kiss, first, Julie: no one +will see and it doesn't matter a damn if they do. That's the best of +London. My dear, I can hardly believe we're both here at last, and that +I've really got you." Their lips met. + +Julie flung herself back with a laugh. "Oh, Peter," she said, "I shall +never forget that first taxi. If you could have seen your own face! +Really it was too comic, but I must say you've changed since then." + +"I was a fool and a beast," he said, more gravely; "I'm only just +beginning to realise how much of a fool. But don't rub it in, Julie, or +not just now. I'm starting to live at last, and I don't want to be +reminded of the past." + +She pressed his hand and looked out of window. "Where are we, Peter? +Whitehall? Where are we off to?" + +"I've got the snuggest little suite in all London, darling," he said, +"with a fairy palace at our beck and call. I've been revelling in it all +day--not exactly in it, you know, but in the thought of it. I've been too +busy shopping to be in much; and Julie, I hope you notice my hands: I've +had a special manicure in preparation for you. And the girl is coming +round to-morrow before breakfast to do me again--or at least she wanted +to." + +"What are you talking about? Peter, what have you been doing to-day?" She +sighed a mock sigh. "Really, you're getting beyond me; it's rather +trying." + +Peter launched out into the story to fill up time. He really did not want +to speak of the rooms, that they might give her the greater surprise. So +he kept going till the taxi stopped before the hotel. He jumped out gaily +as the commissionaire opened the door. + +"Come on," he said, "as quick as ever you can." Then, to the man: "Have +these sent up to No. 420, will you, please?" And he took Julie's arm. + +They went in at the great door, and crossed the wide entrance-hall. +Everyone glanced at Julie, Peter noted proudly, even the girls behind the +sweet-counter, and the people waiting about as always. Julie held her +head high and walked more sedately than usual. She _was_ a bit different, +thought Peter, but even nicer. He glowed at the thought. + +He led her to the lift and gave his landing number. They walked down the +corridor in silence and in at their door. Peter opened the door on the +left and stood back. Julie went in. He followed and shut the door behind +them. + +The maid had lit a fire, which blazed merrily. Julie took it all in--the +flowers, the pile of magazines, even the open box of cigarettes, and she +turned enthusiastically to him and flung her arms round his neck, kissing +him again and again. "Oh, Peter darling," she cried, "I can't tell you +how I love you! I could hardly sit still in the railway carriage, and the +train seemed worse than a French one. But now I have you at last, and all +to myself. Oh, Peter, my darling Peter!" + +There came a knock at the door. Julie disengaged her arms from his neck, +but slipped her hand in his, and he said, "Come in." + +The maid entered, carrying tea. She smiled at them. "I thought madame +might like tea at once, sir," she said, and placed the tray on the little +table. + +"Thank you ever so much," said Julie impulsively; "that is good of you. +I'm longing for it. One gets so tired in the train." Then she walked to +the glass. "I'll take off my hat, Peter," she said, "and my coat, and +then we'll have tea comfortably. I do want it, and a cigarette. You're an +angel to have thought of my own De Reszke." + +She threw herself into a big basket chair, and leaned over to the table. +"Milk and sugar for you, Peter? By the way, I ought to know these things; +not that it much matters; ours was a war marriage, and I've hardly seen +you at all!" + +Peter sat opposite, and watched her pour out. She leaned back with a +piece of toast in her hands, her eyes on him, and they smiled across at +each other. Suddenly he could bear it no longer. He put his cup down and +knelt forward at her feet, his arms on her knees, devouring her. "Oh, +Julie," he said, "I want to worship you--I do indeed. I can't believe +my luck. I can't think that _you_ love _me_." + +Her white teeth bit into the toast. "You old silly," she said. "But I +don't want to be worshipped; I _won't_ be worshipped; I want to be loved, +Peter." + +He put his arms up, and pulled her head down to his, kissing her again +and again, stroking her arm, murmuring foolish words that meant nothing +and meant everything. It was she who stopped him. "Go and sit down," she +said, "and tell me all the plans." + +"Well," he said, "I do hope you'll like them. First, I've not booked up +anything for to-night. I thought we'd go out to dinner to a place I know +and sit over it, and enjoy ourselves. It's a place in Soho, and quite +humorous, I think. Then we might walk back: London's so perfect at night, +isn't it? To-morrow I've got seats for the Coliseum matinee. You know it, +of course; it's a jolly place where one can talk if one wants to, and +smoke; and then I've seats in the evening for _Zigzag_. Saturday night +we're going to see _Carminetta_, which they say is the best show in town, +and Saturday morning we can go anywhere you please, or do anything. And +we can cut out any of them if you like," he added. + +She let her arms lie along the chair, and drew a breath of delight. +"You're truly wonderful," she said. "What a blessing not having to worry +what's to be done! It's a perfect programme. I only wish we could be in +Paris for Sunday; it's so slow here." + +He smiled. "You're sure you're not bored about to-night?" he asked. She +looked him full in the eyes and said nothing. He sprang up and rushed +towards her. She laughed her old gay laugh, and avoided him, jumping up +and getting round the table. "No," she warned; "no more now. Come and +show me the rest of the establishment." + +Arm in arm they made the tour of inspection. In the bathroom Julie's eyes +danced. "Thank the Lord for that bath, Peter," she said. "I shall revel +in it. That's one thing I loathe about France, that one can't get decent +baths, and in the country here it's no better. I had two inches of water +in a foot-bath down in Sussex, and when you sit in the beastly thing only +about three inches of yourself get wet and those the least important +inches. I shall lie in this for hours and smoke, and you shall feed me +with chocolates and read to me. How will you like that?" + +Peter made the only possible answer, and they went back to the bedroom. +The man was bringing up her luggage, and he deposited it on the +luggage-stool. "Heavens!" said Julie, "where are my keys? Oh, I know, in +my purse. I hope you haven't lost it. Do give it to me. The suit-case is +beautifully packed, but the trunk is in an appalling mess. I had to throw +my things in anyhow. By the way, I wonder what they'll make of different +initials on all our luggage? Not that it matters a scrap, especially +these days. Besides, I don't suppose they noticed." + +She was on her knees by the trunk, and had undone it. She lifted the lid, +and Peter saw the confusion inside, and caught sight of the unfamiliar +clothes, Julie was rummaging everywhere. "I know I've left them behind!" +she exclaimed. "Whatever shall I do? My scent and powder-puff! Peter, +it's terrible! I can't go to Soho to dinner without them." + +"Let's go and get some," he suggested; "there's time." + +"No, I can't," she said. "You go. Don't be long. I want to sit in front +of the fire and be cosy." + +Peter set off on the unfamiliar errand, smiling grimly to himself. He got +the scent easily enough, and then inquired for a powder-puff. In the old +days he would scarcely have dared; but he had been in France. He selected +a little French box with a mirror in the lid and a pretty rosebud +pattern, and paid for it unblushingly. Then he returned. + +He opened the door of their sitting-room, and stood transfixed for a +minute. The shaded reading-lamp was on, the other lights off. The fire +glowed red, and Julie lay stretched out in a big chair, smoking a +cigarette. She turned and looked up at him over her shoulder. She had +taken off her dress and slipped on a silk kimono, letting her hair down, +which fell in thick tumbled masses about her. The arm that held the +cigarette was stretched up above her, and the wide, loose sleeve of the +kimono had slipped back, leaving it bare to her shoulder. Her white +frilled petticoat showed beneath, as she had pushed her feet out before +her to the warmth of the fire. Peter's blood pounded in his temples. + +"Good boy," she said; "you haven't been long. Come and show me. I had to +get comfortable: I hope you don't mind." + +He came slowly forward without a word and bent over her. The scent of her +rose intoxicatingly around him as he bent down for a kiss. Their lips +clung together, and the wide world stood still. + +Julie made room for him beside her. "You dear old thing," she exclaimed +at the sight of the powder-puff. "It's a gem. You couldn't have bettered +it in Paris." She opened it, took out the little puff, and dabbed her +open throat. Then, laughing, she dabbed at him: "Don't look so solemn," +she said, "Solomon!" + +Peter slipped one arm round her beneath the kimono, and felt her warm +relaxed waist. Then he pushed his other hand, unresisted, in where her +white throat gleamed bare and open to him, and laid his lips on her hair. +"Oh, Julie," he said, "I had no idea one could love so. It is almost more +than I can bear." + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck a half-hour, and Julie stirred in his +arms and glanced up. "Good Lord, Peter!" she exclaimed, "do you know what +the time is? Half-past seven! I shall never be dressed, and we shall get +no dinner. Let me up, for goodness sake, and give me a drink if you've +got such a thing. If not, ring for it. I shall never have energy enough +to get into my things otherwise." + +Peter opened the little door of the sideboard and got out decanter, +siphon, and glasses. Julie, sitting up and arranging herself, smiled at +him. "Is there a single thing you haven't thought of, you old dear?" she +said. + +"Say when," said Peter, coming towards her. Then he poured himself out a +tumbler and stood by the fire, looking at her. + +"It's a pity we have to go out at all," he said, "for I suppose you can't +go like that." + +"A pity? It's a jolly good thing. You wait till you've seen my frock, my +dear. But, Peter, do you think there's likely to be anyone there that we +know?" + +He shook his head. "Not there, at any rate," he said. + +"Here?" + +"More likely, but it's such a big place we're not likely to meet them, +even so. But if you feel nervous, do you know the best cure? Come down +into the lounge, and see the crowd of people. You sit there and people +stream by, and you don't know a face. It's the most comfortable, feeling +in the world. One's more alone than on a desert island. You might be a +ghost that no one sees." + +Julie shuddered. "Peter don't! You make me feel creepy." She got up "Go +and find that maid, will you? I want her to help me dress." + +Peter walked to the bell and rang it, "Where do I come in?" he asked. + +"Well, you can go and wash in the bathroom, and if you're frightened of +her you can dress there!" And she walked to the door laughing. + +"I'll just finish my drink," he said. "You will be heaps longer than I." + +Five minutes later, having had no answer to his ring, he switched off the +light, and walked out into the hall He hesitated at Julie's door, then he +tapped. "Come in," she said. + +She was standing half-dressed in front of the glass doing her hair, "Oh, +it's you, is it?" she said. "Wherever is that maid? I can't wait all +night for her; you'll have to help." + +Peter sat down and began to change. Half-surreptitiously he watched Julie +moving about, and envied her careless abandon. He was much the more +nervous of the two. + +Presently she called him from the bathroom to fasten her dress. When it +was done, she stood back for him to examine her. + +"That all right?" she demanded, putting a touch here and there. + +Not every woman could have worn her gown. It was a rose pink with some +rich flame-coloured material in front, and was held by two of the +narrowest bands on her shoulders. In the deep _decollete_ she pushed +two rosebuds from the big bunch, and hung round her neck a pendant of +mother-of-pearl and silver. She wore no other jewellery, and she needed +none. She faced him, a vision of loveliness. + +They went down the stairs together and out into the crush of people, some +of the women in evening dress, but few of the men. The many uniforms +looked better, Peter thought, despite the drab khaki. They had to stand +for awhile while a taxi was found, Julie laughing and chatting +vivaciously. She had a wrap for her shoulders that she had bought in Port +Said, set with small metallic points, and it sparkled about her in the +blaze of light. She flattered him by seeming unconscious of anyone else, +and put her hand on his arm as they went out. + +They drove swiftly through back-streets to the restaurant that Peter had +selected, and stopped in a quiet, dark, narrow road off Greek Street. +Julie got out and looked around with pretended fear. "Where in the world +have you brought me?" she demanded. "However did you find the place? +It's worse than some of your favourite places in Havre." + +Inside, however, she looked round appreciatively. "Really, Peter, it's +splendid," she said under her breath--"just the place," and smiled +sweetly on the padrone who came forward, bowing. Peter had engaged a +table, and they were led to it. + +"I had almost given you up, sir," said the man, "but by good fortune, +some of our patrons are late too." + +They sat down opposite to each other, and studied the menu held out to +them by a waiter. "I don't know the meaning of half the dishes," laughed +Julie. "You order. It'll be more fun if I don't know what's coming." + +"We must drink Chianti," said Peter, and ordered a bottle. "You can think +you are in Italy." + +Elbows on the table as she waited, Julie looked round. In the far corner +a gay party of four were halfway through dinner. Two officers, an elderly +lady and a young one, she found rather hard to place, but Julie decided +the girl was the fiancee of one who had brought his friend to meet her. +At other tables were mostly couples, and across the room from her, with +an elderly officer, sat a well-made-up woman, very plainly _demimonde_. +Immediately before her were four men, two of them foreigners, in morning +dress, talking and eating hare. It was evidently a professional party, +and one of the four now and again hummed out a little air to the +rest, and once jotted down some notes on the back of a programme. They +took no notice of anyone, but the eyes of the woman with the officer, who +hardly spoke to her, searched Julie unblushingly. + +Julie, gave a little sigh of happiness. "This is lovely, Peter," she +said. "We'll be ages over dinner. It's such fun to be in nice clothes +just for dinner sometimes and not to have to worry about the time, and +going on elsewhere. But I do wish my friends could see me, I must say. +They'd be horrified. They thought I was going to a stodgy place in West +Kensington. I was must careful to be vague, but that was the idea. Peter, +how would you like to live in a suburb and have heaps of children, and +dine out with city men and their wives once or twice a month for a +treat?" + +Peter grimaced. Then he looked thoughtful. "It wouldn't have been any so +remarkable for me at one time, Julie," he said. + +She shook her head. "It would, my dear. You're not made for it." + +"What am I made for, then?" + +She regarded him solemnly, and then relaxed into a smile. "I haven't a +notion, but not that. The thing is never to worry. You get what you're +made for in the end, I think." + +"I wonder," said Peter. "Perhaps, but not always. The world's full of +square pegs in round holes." + +"Then they're stodgy pegs, without anything in them. If I was a square +peg I'd never go into a round hole." + +"Suppose there was no other hole to go into," demanded Peter. + +"Then I'd fall out, or I wouldn't go into any hole at all. I'd sooner be +anything in the world than stodgy, Peter. I'd sooner be like that woman +over there who is staring at me so!" + +Peter glanced to one side, and then back at Julie. He was rather grave. +"Would you really?" he questioned. + +The waiter brought the Chianti and poured out glasses. Julie waited till +he had gone, and then lifted hers and looked at Peter across it. "I +would," she said. "I couldn't live without wine and excitement and song. +I'm made that way. Cheerio, Solomon!" + +They drank to each other. Then: "And love?" queried Peter softly. + +Julie did not reply for a minute. She set her wine-glass down and toyed +with the stem. Then she looked up at him under her eyelashes with that +old daring look of hers, and repeated: "And love, Peter. But real love, +not stodgy humdrum liking, Peter. I want the love that's like the hot +sun, and the wide, tossing blue sea east of Suez, and the nights under +the moon where the real world wakes up and doesn't go to sleep, like it +does in the country in the cold, hard North. Do you know," she went on, +"though I love the cities, and bands, and restaurants, and theatres, and +taxis, and nice clothes, I love best of all the places where one has none +of these things. I once went with a shooting-party to East Africa, Peter, +and that's what I love. I shall never forget the nights at Kilindini, +with the fireflies dancing among the bushes, and the moon glistening on +the palms as if they were wet, and the insects shrilling in the grass, +and the hot, damp air. Or by day, up in the forest, camped under the +great trees, with the strange few flowers and the silence, while the sun +trickled through the leaves and made pools of light on the ground. Do you +know, I saw the most beautiful thing I've ever seen or, I think, shall +see in that forest." + +"What was that?" asked Peter, under her spell, for she was speaking like +a woman in a dream. + +"It was one day when we were marching. We came on a glade among the +trees, and at the end of it, a little depression of damp green grass, +only the grass was quite hidden beneath a sheet of blue--such blue, I +can't describe it--that quivered and moved in the sun. We stood quite +still, and then a boy threw a little stone. And the blue all rose in the +air, silently, like magic. It was a swarm of hundreds and hundreds of +blue butterflies, Peter. Do you know what I did? I cried--I couldn't help +it. It was too beautiful to see, Peter." + +A little silence fell between them. She broke it in another tone. + +"And the natives--I love the natives. I just love the all but naked girls +carrying the water up to the village in the evening, tall and straight, +like Greek statues; and the men, in a string of beads and a spear. I +wanted to go naked myself there--at least, I did till one day I tried it, +and the sun skinned me in no time. But at least one needn't wear +much--cool loose things, and it doesn't matter what one does or says." + +Peter laughed. "Who was with you when you tried the experiment?" he +demanded. + +Julie threw her head back, and even the professional four glanced up and +looked at her. "Ah, wouldn't you like to know?" she laughed. "Well, I +won't tease you--two native girls if you want to know, that was all. The +rest of the party were having a midday sleep. But I never can sleep +at midday. I don't mind lying in a hammock or a deck-chair, and reading, +but I can't sleep. One feels so beastly when one wakes up, doesn't one?" + +Peter nodded, but steered her back. "Tell me more," he said. "You wake +something up in me; I feel as if I was born to be there." + +"Well," she said reflectively, "I don't know that anything can beat the +great range that runs along our border in Natal. It's different, of +course, but it's very wonderful. There's one pass I know--see here, you +go up a wide valley with a stream that runs in and out, and that you have +to cross again and again until it narrows and narrows to a small footpath +between great kranzes. At first there are queer stunted trees and bushes +about, with the stream, that's now a tiny thing of clear water, singing +among them, and there the trees stop, and you climb up and up among the +boulders, until you think you can do no more, and at the last you come +out on the top." + +"And then?" + +"You're in wonderland. Before you lies peak on peak, grass-grown and +rocky, so clear in the rare, still air. There is nothing there but +mountain and rock and grass, and the blue sky, with perhaps little clouds +being blown across it, and a wind that's cool and vast--you feel it fills +everything. And you look down the way you've come, and there's all Natal +spread out at your feet like a tiny picture, lands and woods and rivers, +till it's lost in the mist of the distance." + +She ceased, staring at her wine-glass. At last the chatter of the place +broke in on Peter. "My dear," he exclaimed, "one can see it. But what do +you do there?" + +She laughed and broke the spell. "What would one do?" she demanded. "Eat +and drink and sleep, and make love, Peter, if there's anybody to make +love to." + +"But you couldn't do that all your life," he objected. + +"Why not? Why do anything else? I never can see. And when you're +tired--for you _do_ get tired at last--back to Durban for a +razzle-dazzle, or back farther still, to London or Paris for a bit. +That's the life for me, Peter!" + +He smiled: "Provided somebody is there with the necessary, I suppose?" he +said. + +"Solomon," she mocked, "Solomon, Solomon! Why do you spoil it all? But +you're right, of course, Peter, though I hate to think of that." + +"I see how we're like, and how we're unlike, Julie," said Peter suddenly, +"You like real things, and so do I. You hate to feel stuffy and tied up +in conventions, and so do I. But you're content with just that, and I'm +not." + +"Am I?" she queried, looking at him a little strangely. + +Peter did not notice; he was bent on pursuing his argument. "Yes, you +are," he said. "When you're in the grip of real vital things--nature +naked and unashamed--you have all you want. You don't stop to think of +to-morrow. You live. But I, I feel that there is something round the +corner all the time. I feel as if there must be something bigger than +just that. I'd love your forest and your range and your natives, I think, +but only because one is nearer something else with them than here. I +don't know how to put it, but when you think of those things you feel +_full_, and I still feel _empty_." + +"Peter," said Julie softly, "do you remember Caudebec?" + +He looked up at her then. "I shall never forget it, dear," he said. + +"Then you'll remember our talk in the car?" + +He nodded. "When you talked about marriage and human nature and men, and +so on," he said. + +"No, I don't mean that. I did talk of those things, and I gave you a +little rather bitter philosophy that is more true than you think; but I +don't mean that. Afterwards, when we spoke about shams and playing. Do +you remember, I hinted that a big thing might come along--do you +remember?" + +He nodded again, but he did not speak. + +"Well," she said, "it's come--that's all." + +"Another bottle of Chianti, sir?" queried the padrone at his elbow. + +Peter started. "What? Oh, yes, please," he said. "We can manage another +bottle, Julie? And bring on the dessert now, will you? Julie, have a +cigarette." + +"If we have another bottle you must drink most of it," she laughed, +almost as if they had not been interrupted, but with a little vivid +colour in her cheeks. "Otherwise, my dear, you'll have to carry me +upstairs, which won't look any too well. But I want another glass. Oh, +Peter, do look at that woman now!" + +Peter looked. The elderly officer had dined to repletion and drank well +too. The woman had roused herself; she was plainly urging him to come on +out; and as Peter glanced over, she made an all but imperceptible sign to +a waiter, who bustled forward with the man's cap and stick. He took them +stupidly, and the woman helped him up, but not too noticeably. Together +they made for the door, which the waiter held wide open. The woman tipped +him, and he bowed. The door closed, and the pair disappeared into the +street. + +"A damned plucky sort," said Julie; "I don't care what anyone says." + +"I didn't think so once, Julie," said Peter, "but I believe you're right +now. It's a topsy-turvy world, little girl, and one never knows where one +is in it." + +"Men often don't," said Julie, "but women make fewer mistakes. Come, +Peter, let's get back. I want the walk, and I want that cosy little +room." + +He drained his glass and got up. Suddenly the thought of the physical +Julie ran through him like fire. "Rather!" he said gaily. "So do I, +little girl." + +The waiter pulled back the chairs. The padrone came up all bows and +smiles. He hoped the Captain would come again--any time. It was better to +ring up, as they were often very full. A taxi? No? Well, the walk through +the streets was enjoyable after dinner, even now, when the lights were so +few. Good-evening, madame; he hoped everything had been to her liking. + +Julie sauntered across the now half-empty little room, and took Peter's +arm in the street. "Do you know the way?" she demanded. + +"We can't miss it," he said. "Up here will lead us to Shaftesbury Avenue +somewhere, and then we go down. Sure you want to walk, darling?" + +"Yes, and see the people, Peter, I love seeing them. Somehow by night +they're more natural than they are by day. I hate seeing people going to +work in droves, and men rushing about the city with dollars written all +across their faces. At night that's mostly finished with. One can see +ugly things, but some rather beautiful ones as well. Let's cross over. +There are more people that side." + +They passed together down the big street. Even the theatres were darkened +to some extent, but taxis were about, and kept depositing their loads of +men and smiling women. The street-walks held Tommies, often plainly with +a sweet-heart from down east; men who sauntered along and scanned the +faces of the women; a newsboy or two; a few loungers waiting to pick up +odd coppers; and here and there a woman by herself. It was the usual +crowd, but they were in the mood to see the unusual in usual things. + +In the Circus they lingered a little. Shrouded as it was, an atmosphere +of mystery hung over everything. Little groups that talked for a while +at the corners or made appointments, or met and broke up again, had the +air of conspirators in some great affair. The rush of cars down Regent +Street, and then this way and that, lent colour to the thought, and +it affected both of them. "What's brooding over it all, Julie?" Peter +half-whispered. "Can't you feel that there is something?" + +She shrugged her shoulders, and then gave a little shiver. "Love, or what +men take for love," she said. + +He clasped the hand that lay along his arm passionately. "Come along," he +said. + +"Oh, this _is_ good, Peter," said Julie a few minutes later. She had +thrown off her wrap, and was standing by the fire while he arranged the +cigarettes, the biscuits, and a couple of drinks on the little table with +its shaded light. "Did you lock the door? Are we quite alone, we two, at +last, with all the world shut out?" + +He came swiftly over to her, and took her in his arms for answer. He +pressed kisses on her hair, her lips, her neck, and she responded to +them. + +"Oh, love, love," he said, "let's sit down and forget that there is +anything but you and I." + +She broke from him with a little laugh of excitement. "We will, Peter," +she said; "but I'm going to take off this dress and one or two other +things, and let my hair down. Then I'll come back." + +"Take them off here," he said; "you needn't go away." + +She looked at him and laughed again. "Help me, then," she said, and +turned her back for him to loosen her dress. + +Clumsily he obeyed. He helped her off with the shimmering beautiful +thing, and put it carefully over a chair. With deft fingers she loosened +her hair, and he ran his fingers through it, and buried his face in the +thick growth of it. She untied a ribbon at her waist, and threw from +her one or two of her mysterious woman's things. Then, with a sigh of +utter abandonment, she threw herself into his arms. + +They sat long over the fire. Outside the dull roar of the sleepless city +came faintly up to them, and now and again a coal fell in the grate. At +long last Peter pushed her back a little from him. "Little girl," he +said, "I must ask one thing. Will you forgive me? That night at +Abbeville, after we left Langton, what was it you wouldn't tell me? +What was it you thought he would have known about you, but not I? Julie, +I thought, to-night--was it anything to do with East Africa--those +tropical nights under the moon? Oh, tell me, Julie!" + +The girl raised her eyes to his. That look of pain and knowledge that he +had seen from the beginning was in them again. Her hand clasped the +lappet of his tunic convulsively, and she seemed to him indeed but a +little girl. + +"Peter! could you not have asked? But no, you couldn't, not you.... But +you guess now, don't you? Oh, Peter, I was so young, and I thought--oh, +I thought: the big thing had come, and since then life's been all one +big mockery. I've laughed at it, Peter: it was the only way. And then +you came along. I haven't dared to think, but there's something about +you--oh, I don't know what! But you don't play tricks, do you, Peter? +And you've given me all, at last, without a question.... Oh, Peter, tell +me you love me still! It's your love, Peter, that can make me clean and +save my soul--if I've any soul to save," she added brokenly. + +Peter caught her to him. He crushed her so that she caught her breath with +the pain of it, and he wound his hand all but savagely in her hair. He +got up--and she never guessed he had the strength--and carried her out in +his arms, and into the other room. + +And hours later, staring into the blackness while she slept as softly as +a child by his side, he could not help smiling a little to himself. It +was all so different from what he had imagined. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Peter awoke, and wondered where he was. Then his eye fell on a half-shut, +unfamiliar trunk across the room, and he heard splashing through the open +door of the bathroom. "Julie!" he called. + +A gurgle of laughter came from the same direction and the splashing +ceased. Almost the next second Julie appeared in the doorway. She was +still half-wet from the water, and her sole dress was a rosebud which she +had just tucked into her hair. She stood there, laughing, a perfect +vision of unblushing natural loveliness, splendidly made from her little +head poised lightly on her white shoulders to her slim feet. "You lazy +creature!" she exclaimed; "you're awake at last, are you? Get up at +once," and she ran over to him just as she was, seizing the bed-clothes +and attempting to strip them off. Peter protested vehemently. "You're a +shameless baggage," he said, "and I don't want to get up yet. I want some +tea and a cigarette in bed. Go away!" + +"You won't get up, won't you?" she said. "All right; I'll get into bed, +then," and she made as if to do so. + +"Get away!" he shouted. "You're streaming wet! You'll soak everything." + +"I don't care," she retorted, laughing and struggling at the same time, +and she succeeded in getting a foot between the sheets. Peter slipped out +on the other side, and she ran round to him. "Come on," she said; "now +for your bath. Not another moment. My water's steaming hot, and it's +quite good enough for you. You can smoke in your bath or after it. Come +on!" + +She dragged him into the bathroom and into that bath, and then she filled +a sponge with cold water and trickled it on him, until he threatened to +jump out and give her a cold douche. Then, panting with her exertions and +dry now, she collapsed on the chair and began to fumble with her hair +and its solitary rose. It was exactly Julie who sat there unashamed in +her nakedness, Peter thought. She had kept the soul of a child through +everything, and it could burst through the outer covering of the woman +who had tasted of the tree of knowledge of good and evil and laugh in the +sun. + +"Peter," she said, "wouldn't you love to live in the Fiji--no, not the +Fiji, because I expect that's civilised these days, but on an almost +desert island?--though not desert, of course. Why does one call Robinson +Crusoe sort of islands _desert_? Oh, I know, because it means deserted, I +suppose. But I don't want it quite deserted, for I want you, and three +or four huts of nice savages to cut up wood for the fire and that sort of +thing. And I should wear a rose--no, a hibiscus--in my hair all day long, +and nothing else at all. And you should wear--well, I don't know what you +should wear, but something picturesque that covered you up a bit, because +you're by no means so good-looking as I am, Peter." She jumped up and +stretched out her arms, "Am I not good-looking, Peter? Why isn't there a +good mirror in this horrid old bathroom? It's more necessary in a +bathroom than anywhere, I think." + +"Well, I can see you without it," said Peter. "And I quite agree, Julie, +you're divine. You are like Aphrodite, sprung from the foam." + +She laughed. "Well, spring from the foam yourself, old dear, and come and +dress. I'm getting cold. I'm going to put on the most thrilling set of +undies this morning that you ever saw. The cami-... " + +Peter put his fingers in his ears. "Julie," he said, "in one minute I +shall blush for shame. Go and put on something, if you must, but don't +talk about it. You're like a Greek goddess just now, but if you begin to +quote advertisements you'll be like--well, I don't know what you'll be +like, but I won't have it, anyway. Go on; get away with you. I shall +throw the sponge at you if you don't." + +She departed merrily, singing to herself, and Peter lay a little longer +in the soft warm water. He dwelt lovingly on the girl in the other room; +he told himself he was the happiest man alive; and yet he got out of the +bath, without apparent rhyme or reason, with a little sigh. But he was +only a little quicker than most men in that. Julie had attained and was +radiant; Peter had attained--and sighed. + +She was entirely respectable by contrast when he rejoined her, shaven and +half-dressed, a little later, but just as delectable, as she stood in +soft white things putting up her hair with her bare arms. He went over +and kissed her. "You never said good-morning at all, you wretch," he +said. + +She flung her arms round his neck and kissed him again many times. +"Purposely," she said. "I shall never say good-morning to you while +you're horribly unshaven--never. You can't help waking up like it, I +know, but it's your duty to get clean and decent as quickly as possible. +See?" + +"I'll try _always_ to remember," said Peter, and stressed the word. + +She held him for an appreciable second at that; then loosed him with a +quick movement. "Go, now," she said, "and order breakfast to be brought +up to our sitting-room. It must be a very nice breakfast. There must be +kippers and an omelette. Go quick; I'll be ready in half a minute." + +"I believe that girl is sweeping the room," said Peter. "Am I to appear +like this? You must remember that we're not in France." + +"Put on a dressing-gown then. You haven't got one here? Then put on my +kimono; you'll look exceedingly beautiful.... Really, Peter, you do. Our +island will have to be Japan, because kimonos suit you. But I shall never +live to reach it if you don't order that breakfast." + +Peter departed, and had a satisfactory interview with the telephone in +the presence of the maid. He returned with a cigarette between his lips, +smiling, and Julie turned to survey him. + +"Peter, come here. Have you kissed that girl? I believe you have! How +dare you? Talk about being shameless, with me here in the next room!" + +"I thought you never minded such things, Julie. You've told me to kiss +girls before now. _And_ you said that you'd always allow your husband +complete liberty--now, didn't you?" + +Julie sat down on the bed and heaved a mock sigh. "What incredible +creatures are men!" she exclaimed. "Must I mean everything I say, +Solomon? Is there no difference between this flat and that miserable old +hotel in Caudebec? And last, but not least, have you promised to forsake +all other and cleave unto me as long as we both shall live? If you had +promised it, I'd know you couldn't possibly keep it; but as it is, I have +hopes." + +This was too much for Peter. He dropped into the position that she had +grown to love to see him in, and he put his arms round her waist, looking +up at her laughingly. "But you will marry me, Julie, won't you?" he +demanded. + +Before his eyes, a lingering trace of that old look crept back into her +face. She put her hands beneath his chin, and said no word, till he could +stand it no longer. + +"Julie, Julie, my darling," he said, "you must." + +"Must, Peter?" she queried, a little wistfully he thought. + +"Yes, must; but say you want to, say you will, Julie!" + +"I want to, Peter," she said--"oh, my dear, you don't know, you can't +know, how much. The form is nothing to me, but I want _you_--if I can +keep you." + +"If you can keep me!" echoed Peter, and it was as if an ice-cold finger +had suddenly been laid on his heart. For one second he saw what might be. +But he banished it. "What!" he exclaimed. "Cannot you trust me, Julie? +Don't you know I love you? Don't you know I want to make you the very +centre of my being, Julie?" + +"I know, dearest," she whispered, and he had never heard her speak so +before. "You want, that is one thing; you can, that is another." + +Peter stared up at her. He felt like a little child who kneels at the +feet of a mother whom it sees as infinitely loving, infinitely wise, +infinitely old. And, like a child, he buried his head in her lap. "Oh, +Julie," he said, "you must marry me. I want you so that I can't tell you +how much. I don't know what you mean. Say," he said, looking up again and +clasping her tightly--"say you'll marry me, Julie!" + +She sprang up with a laugh. "Peter," she said, "you're Mid-Victorian. You +are actually proposing to me upon your knees. If I could curtsy or faint +I would, but I can't. Every scrap of me is modern, down to Venns' +cami-knickers that you wouldn't let me talk about. Let's go and eat +kippers; I'm dying for them. Come on, old Solomon." + +He got up more slowly, half-smiling, for who could resist Julie in that +mood? But he made one more effort. He caught her hand. "But just say +'Yes' Julie," he said--"just 'Yes.'" + +She snatched her hand away. "Maybe I will tell you on Monday morning," +she said, and ran out of the room. + +As he finished dressing, he heard her singing in the next room, and then +talking to the maid. When he entered the sitting-room the girl came out, +and he saw that there were tears in her eyes. He went in and looked +sharply at Julie; there was a suspicion of moisture in hers also. "Oh, +Peter," she said, and took him by the arm as the door closed, "why didn't +you tell me about Jack? I'm going out immediately after breakfast to buy +her the best silver photo-frame I can find, see? And now come and eat +your kippers. They're half-cold, I expect. I thought you were never +coming." + +So began a dream-like day to Peter. Julie was the centre of it. He +followed her into shops, and paid for her purchases and carried her +parcels: he climbed with her on to buses, which she said she preferred to +taxis in the day-time; he listened to her talk, and he did his best to +find out what she wanted and get just that for her. They lunched, at her +request, at an old-fashioned, sober restaurant in Regent Street, that +gave one the impression of eating luncheon in a Georgian dining-room, in +some private house of great stolidity and decorum. When Julie had said +that she wanted such a place Peter had been tickled to think how she +would behave in it. But she speedily enlightened him. She drew off her +gloves with an air. She did not laugh once. She did not chat to the +waiter. She did not hurry in, nor demand the wine-list, nor call him +Solomon. She did not commit one single Colonial solecism at table, as +Peter had hated himself for half thinking that she might. Yet she never +had looked prettier, he thought, and even there he caught glances which +suggested that others might think so too. And if she talked less than +usual, so did he, for his mind was very busy. In the old days it was +almost just such a wife as Julie now that he would have wanted. But did +he want the old days? Could he go back to them? Could he don the clerical +frock coat and with it the clerical system and outlook of St. John's? He +knew, as he sat there, that not only he could not, but that he would not. +What, then? It was almost as if Julie suggested that the alternative was +madcap days, such as that little scene in the bathroom suggested. He +looked at her, and thought of it again, and smiled at the incongruity of +it, there. But even as he smiled the cold whisper of dread insinuated +itself again, small and slight as it was. Would such days fill his life? +Could they offer that which should seize on his heart, and hold it? + +He roused himself with an effort of will, poured himself another glass of +wine, and drank it down. The generous, full-bodied stuff warmed him, and +he glanced at his wrist-watch. "I say," he said, "we shall be late, +Julie, and I don't want to miss one scrap of this show. Have you +finished? A little more wine?" + +Julie was watching him, he thought, as he spoke, and she, too, seemed to +him to make a little effort. "I will, Peter," she said, not at all as she +had spoken there before--"a full glass too. One wants to be in a good +mood for the Coliseum. Well, dear old thing, cheerio!" + +Outside he demanded a taxi. "I must have it, Julie," he said. "I want to +drive up, and have the old buffer in gold braid open the door for me. +Have a cigarette?" + +She took one, and laughed as they settled into the car. "I know the +feeling, my dear," she said. "And you want to stroll languidly up the red +carpet, and pass by the pictures of chorus-girls as if you were so +accustomed to the real thing that really the pictures were rather borin', +don't you know. And you want to make eyes at the programme-girl, and give +a half-crown tip when they open the box, and take off your British warm +in full view of the audience, and...." + +"Kiss you," said Peter uproariously, suiting the action to the word. +"Good Lord, Julie, you're a marvel! No more of those old restaurants for +me. We dine at our hotel to-night, in the big public room near the band, +and we drink champagne." + +"And you put the cork in my stocking?" she queried, stretching out her +foot. + +He pushed his hand up her skirt and down to the warm place beneath the +gay garter that she indicated, and he kissed her passionately again. "It +doesn't matter now," he said. "I have more of you than that. Why, that's +nothing to me now, Julie. Oh, how I love you!" + +She pushed him off, and snatched her foot away also, laughing gaily. "I'm +getting cheap, am I?" she said. "We'll see. You're going to have a damned +rotten time in the theatre, my dear. Not another kiss, and I shall be as +prim as a Quaker." + +The car stopped. "You couldn't," he laughed, helping her out. "And what +is more, I shan't let you be. I've got you, old darling, and I propose to +keep you, what's more." He took her arm resolutely. "Come along. We're +going to be confoundedly late." + +Theirs was a snug little box, one of the new ones, placed as in a +French theatre. The great place was nearly dark as they entered, except +for the blaze of light that shone through the curtain. The odour of +cigarette-smoke and scent greeted them, with the rustle of dresses and +the subdued sound of gay talk. The band struck up. Then, after the +rolling overture, the curtain ran swiftly up, and a smart young person +tripped on the stage in the limelight and made great play of swinging +petticoats. + +Julie had no remembrance of her promised severity at any rate. She hummed +airs, and sang choruses, and laughed, and was thrilled, exactly as she +should have been, while the music and the panorama went on and wrapped +them round with glamour, as it was meant to do. She cheered the patriotic +pictures and Peter with her, till he felt no end of a fellow to be in +uniform. The people in front of them glanced round amusedly now and +again, and as like as not Julie would be discovered sitting there +demurely, her child's face all innocence, and a big chocolate held +between her fingers at her mouth. Peter would lean back in his corner +convulsed at her, and without moving a muscle of her face she would put +her leg tip on his seat and push him. One scene they watched well back +in their dark box, his arm round her waist. It was a little pathetic +love-play and well done, and in the gloom he played with the curls at +her ears and neck with his lips, and held her hand. + +When it was over they went out with the crowd. The January day was done, +but it was bewildering for all that to come out into real life. There was +no romance for the moment on the stained street, and in the passing +traffic. The gold braid of the hall commissionaire looked tawdry, and +the pictures of ballet-girls but vulgar. It is the common experience, but +each time one feels it there is a new surprise. Julie had her own remedy: + +"The liveliest tea-room you can find, Peter," she demanded. + +"It will be hard to beat our own," said Peter. + +"Well, away there, then; let's get back to a band again, anyhow." + +The great palm-lounge was full of people, and for a few minutes it did +not seem as if they would find seats; but then Julie espied a half-empty +table, and they made for it. It stood away back in a corner, with two +wicker armchairs before it, and, behind, a stationary lounge against the +wall overhung by a huge palm. The lounge was occupied. "We'll get in +there presently," whispered Peter, and they took the chairs, thankful in +the crowded place to get seated at all. + +"Oh, it was topping, Peter," said Julie. "I love a great place like that. +I almost wish we had had dress-circle seats or stalls out amongst the +people. But I don't know; that box was delicious. Did you see how that +old fossil in front kept looking round? I made eyes at him once, +deliberately--you know, like this," and she looked sideways at Peter +with subtle invitation just hinted in her eyes. "I thought he would have +apoplexy--I did, really." + +"It's a good thing I didn't notice, Julie. Even now I should hate to see +you look like that, say, at Donovan. You do it too well. Oh, here's the +tea. Praise the Lord! I'm dying for a cup. You can have all the cakes; +I've smoked too much." + +"Wouldn't you prefer a whisky?" + +"No, not now--afterwards. What's that they're playing?" + +They listened, Julie seemingly intent, and Peter, who soon gave up the +attempt to recognise the piece, glanced sideways at the couple on the +lounge. They did not notice him. He took them both in and caught--he +could not help it--a few words. + +She was thirty-five, he guessed, slightly made-up, but handsome and full +figured, a woman of whom any man might have been proud. He was an +officer, in Major's uniform, and he was smoking a cigarette impatiently +and staring down the lounge. She, on the other hand, had her eyes fixed +on him as if to read every expression on his face, which was heavy and +sullen and mutinous. + +"Is that final, then, George?" she said. + +"I tell you I can't help it; I promised I'd dine with Carstairs +to-night." + +A look swept across her face. Peter could not altogether read it. It was +not merely anger, or pique, or disappointment; it certainly was not +merely grief. There was all that in it, but there was more. And she +said--he only just caught the sentence of any of their words, but there +was the world of bitter meaning in it: + +"Quite alone, I suppose? And there will be no necessity for me to sit +up?" + +"Peter," said Julie suddenly, "the tea's cold. Take me upstairs, will +you? we can have better sent up." + +He turned to her in surprise, and then saw that she too had heard and +seen. + +"Right, dear," he said, "It is beastly stuff. I think, after all, I'd +prefer a spot, and I believe you would too." + +He rose carefully, not looking towards the lounge, like a man; and Julie +got up too, glancing at that other couple with such an ordinary merely +interested look that Peter smiled to himself to see it. They threaded +their way in necessary silence through the tables and chairs to the +doors, and said hardly a word in the lift. But in their sitting-room, +cosy as ever, Julie turned to him in a passion of emotion such as he had +scarcely dreamed could exist even in her. + +"Oh, you darling," she said, "pick me up, and sit me in that chair on +your knee. Love me, Peter, love me as you've never loved me before. Hold +me tight, tight, Peter hurt me, kiss me, love me, say you love me..." and +she choked her own utterance, and buried her face on his shoulder, +straining her body to his, twining her slim foot and leg round his ankle. +In a moment she was up again, however, and glanced at the clock. "Peter, +we must dress early and dine early, mustn't we? The thing begins at +seven-forty-five. Now I know what we'll do. First, give me a drink, +a long one, Solomon, and take one yourself. Thanks. That'll do. Here's +the best.... Oh, that's good, Peter. Can't you feel it running through +you and electrifying you? Now, come"--she seized him by the arm--"come +on! I'll tell you what you've got to do." + +Smiling, though a little astonished at this outburst, Peter allowed +himself to be pulled into the bedroom. She sat down on the bed and pushed +out a foot. "Take it off, you darling, while I take down my hair," she +said. + +He knelt and undid the laces and took off the brown shoes one by one, +feeling her little foot through the silk as he did so. Then he looked up. +She had pulled out a comb or two, and her hair was hanging down. With +swift fingers she finished her work, and was waiting for him. He caught +her in his arms, and she buried her face again. "Oh, Peter, love me, love +me! Undress me, will you? I want you to. Play with me, own me, Peter. +See, I am yours, yours, Peter, all yours. Am I worth having, Peter? Do +you want more than me?" And she flung herself back on the bed in her +disorder, the little ribbons heaving at her breast, her eyes afire, her +cheeks aflame. + +"Well," said Peter, an hour or two later, "we've got to get this dinner +through as quickly as we've ever eaten anything. You'll have to digest +like one of your South African ostriches. I say," he said to the waitress +in a confidential tone and with a smile, "do you think you can get us +stuff in ten minutes all told? We're late as it is, and we'll miss half +the theatre else." + +"It depends what you order," said the girl, rather sharply. Then, after a +glance at them both: "See, if you'll have what I say, I'll get you +through quick. I know what's on easiest. Do you mind?" + +"The very thing," said Peter; "and send the wine-man over on your way, +will you? How will that do?" he added to Julie. + +"I'll risk everything to-night, Peter, except your smiling at the +waitress," she said. "But I must have that champagne. There's something +about champagne that inspires confidence. When a man gives you the gold +bottle you know that he is really serious, or as serious as he can be, +which isn't saying much for most men. And not half a bottle; I've had +half-bottles heaps of times at tete-a-tete dinners. It always means +indecision, which is a beastly thing in anyone, and especially in a man. +It's insulting, for one thing.... Oh, Peter, do look at that girl over +there. Do you suppose she has anything on underneath? I suppose I +couldn't ask her, but you might, you know, if you put on that smile of +yours. Do walk over, beg her pardon, and say very nicely: 'Excuse me, but +I'm a chaplain, and it's my business to know these things. I see you've +no stays on, but have you a bathing costume?'" + +"Julie, do be quiet; someone will hear you. You must remember we're in +England, and that you're talking English." + +"I don't care a damn if they do, Peter! Oh, here's the champagne, at any +rate. Oh, and some soup. Well, that's something." + +"I've got the fish coming," said the girl, "if you can be ready at once." + +Julie seized her spoon. "I suppose I mustn't drink it?" she said. "I +don't see why I shouldn't, as a matter of fact, but it might reflect on +you, Peter, and you're looking so immaculate to-night. By the way, you've +never had that manicure. Do send a note for the girl. I'd hide in the +bathroom. I'd love to hear you. Peter, if I only thought you would do it, +I'd like it better than the play. What is the play, by the way? _Zigzag?_ +Oh, _Zigzag_" (She mimicked in a French accent.) "Well, it will be all +too sadly true if I leave you to that bottle of fizz all by yourself. +Give me another glass, please." + +"What about you?" demanded Peter. "If you're like this now, Heaven knows +what you'll be by the time you've had half of this." + +"Peter, you're an ignoramus. Girls like me never take too much. We began +early for one thing, and we're used to it. For another, the more a girl +talks, the soberer she is. She talks because she's thinking, and because +she doesn't want the man to talk. Now, if you talked to-night, I don't +know what you might not say. You'd probably be enormously sentimental, +and I hate sentimental people. I do, really. Sentiment is wishy-washy, +isn't it? I always associate it with comedians on the stage. Look over +there. Do you see that girl in the big droopy hat and the thin hands? +And the boy--one must say 'boy,' I suppose? He's a little fat and +slightly bald, and he's got three pips up, and has had them for a long +time. Well, look at them. He's searching her eyes, he is, Peter, really. +That's how it's done: you just watch. And he doesn't know if he's eating +pea-soup or oyster-sauce. And she's hoping her hat is drooping just +right, and that he'll notice her ring is on the wrong finger, and how +nice one would look in the right place. To do her justice, she isn't +thinking much about dinner, either; but that's sinful waste, Peter, in +the first place, and bad for one's tummy in the second. However, they're +sentimental, they are, and there's a fortune in it. If they could only +bring themselves to do just that for fifteen minutes at the Alhambra +every night, they'd be the most popular turn in London." + +"That's all very well," said he; "but if you eat so fast and talk at the +same time, you'll pay for it very much as you think they will. Have you +finished?" + +"No, I haven't. I want cheese-straws, and I shall sit here till I get +them or till the whole of London zigzags round me." + +"I say," said Peter to their waitress, "if you possibly can, fetch us +cheese-straws now. Not too many, but quickly. Can you? The lady won't go +without them, and something must be done." + +"Wouldn't the management wait if you telephoned, Peter dear?" inquired +Julie sarcastically. "Just say who you are, and they sure will. If the +chorus only knew, they'd go on strike against appearing before you came, +or tear their tights or something dreadful like that, so that they +couldn't come on. Yes, now I am ready. One wee last little drop of the +bubbly--I see it there--and I'll sacrifice coffee for your sake. Give me +a cigarette, though. Thanks. And now my wrap." + +She rose, the cigarette in her fingers, smiling at him. Peter hastily +followed, walking on air. He was beginning to realise how often he failed +to understand Julie, and to see how completely she controlled her +apparently more frivolous moods; but he loved her in them. He little +knew, as he followed her out, the tumult of thoughts that raced through +that little head with its wealth of brown hair. He little guessed how +bravely she was already counting the fleeting minutes, how resolutely +keeping grip of herself in the flood which threatened to sweep her--how +gladly!--away. + +A good revue must be a pageant of music, colour, scenery, song, dance, +humour, and the impossible. There must be good songs in it, but one does +not go for the songs, any more than one goes to see the working out of a +plot. Strung-up men, forty-eight hours out of the trenches, with every +nerve on edge, must come away with a smile of satisfaction on their +faces, to have a last drink at home and sleep like babies. Women who have +been on nervous tension for months must be able to go there, and allow +their tired senses to drink in the feast of it all, so that they too may +go home and sleep. And in a sense their evening meant all this to Peter +and Julie; but only in a sense. + +They both of them bathed in the performance. The possible and impossible +scenes came and went in a bewildering variety, till one had the feeling +that one was asleep and dreaming the incomprehensible jumble of a dream, +and, as in a nice dream, one knew it was absurd, but did not care. The +magnificent, brilliant staging dazzled till one lay back in one's chair +and refused to name the colours to oneself or admire their blending any +more. The chorus-girls trooped on and off till they seemed countless, and +one abandoned any wish to pick the prettiest and follow her through. And +the gay palace of luxury, with its hundreds of splendidly dressed women, +its men in uniform, its height and width and gold and painting, and its +great arching roof, where, high above, the stirring of human hearts still +went on, took to itself an atmosphere and became sentient with humanity. + +Julie and Peter were both emotional and imaginative, and they were +spellbound till the notes of the National Anthem roused them. Then, with +the commonplaces of departure, they left the place. "It's so near," said +Julie in the crowd outside; "let's walk again." + +"The other pavement, then," said Peter, and they crossed. It was cold, +and Julie clung to him, and they walked swiftly. + +At the entrance Peter suggested an hour under the palms, but Julie +pleaded against it. "Why, dear?" she said. "It's so cosy upstairs, and we +have all we want. Besides, the lounge would be an anti-climax; let's go +up." + +They went up, and Julie dropped into her chair while Peter knelt to poke +the fire. Then he lit a cigarette, and she refused one for once, and he +stood there looking into the flame. + +Julie drew a deep sigh. "Wasn't it gorgeous, Peter?" she said. "I can't +help it, but I always feel I want it to go on for ever and ever. Did you +ever see _Kismet?_ That was worse even than this. I wanted to get up and +walk into the play. These modern things are too clever; you know they're +unreal, and yet they seem to be real. You know you're dreaming, but you +hate to wake up. I could let all that music and dancing and colour go on +round me till I floated away and away, for ever." + +Peter said nothing. He continued to stare into the fire. + +"What do you feel?" demanded Julie. + +Peter drew hard on his cigarette, and then he blew out the smoke. "I +don't know," he said. "Yes, I do," he added quickly; "I feel I want to +get up and preach a sermon." + +"Good Lord, Peter! what a dreadful sensation that must be! Don't begin +now, will you? I'm beginning to wish we'd gone into the lounge after all; +you surely couldn't have preached there." + +Peter did not smile. He went on as if she had not spoken, "Or write a +great novel, or, better still, a great play," he said. + +"What would be the subject, then, you Solomon, or the title, anyway?" + +"I don't know," said Peter dreamily. "_All Men are Grass_, _The Way of +all Flesh_--no, neither of those is good, and besides, one at least is +taken. I know," he added suddenly, "I would call it _Exchange_, that's +all. My word, Julie, I believe I could do it." He straightened himself, +and walked across the room and back again, once or twice. "I believe I +could: I feel it tingling in me; but it's all formless, if you +understand; I've no plot. It's just what I feel as I sit there in a +theatre, as we did just now." + +Julie leaned forward and took the cigarette she had just refused. She lit +it herself with a half-burnt match, and Peter stood and watched her, but +hardly saw what she was doing. She was as conscious of his preoccupation +as if it were something physical about him. + +"Explain, my dear," she said, leaning back and staring into the fire. + +"I don't know that I can," he replied, and she felt as if he did not +speak to her. "It's the bigness of it all, the beauty, the triumphant +success. It's drawn that great house full, lured them in, the thousands +of them, and it does so night after night. Tired people go there to be +refreshed, and sad people to be made gay, and people sick of life to +laugh and forget it. It's the world's big anodyne. It offers a great +exchange. And all for a few shillings, Julie, and for a few hours. The +sensation lingers, but one has to go again and again. It tricks one into +thinking, almost, that it's the real thing, that one can dance like +mayflies in the sun. Only, Julie, there comes an hour when down sinks the +sun, and what of the mayflies then?" + +Julie shifted her head ever so little. "Go on," she said, looking up +intently at him. + +He did not notice her, but her words roused him. He began to pace up and +down again, and her eyes followed him. "Why," he said excitedly, "don't +you see that it's a fraudulent exchange? It's a fraudulent exchange that +it offers, and it itself is an exchange as fraudulent as that which our +modern world is making. No, not our modern world only. We talk so big of +our modernity, when it's all less than the dust--this year's leaves, no +better than last year's, and fallen to-morrow. Rome offered the same +exchange, and even a better one, I think--the blood and lust and conflict +of the amphitheatre. But they're both exchanges, offered instead of the +great thing, the only great thing." + +"Which is, Peter?" + +"God, of course--Almighty God; Jesus, if you will, but I'm not in a mood +for the tenderness of that. It's God Himself Who offers tired and sad +people, and people sick of life, no anodyne, no mere rest, but stir and +fight and the thrill of things nobly done--nobly tried, Julie, even if +nobly failed. Can't you see it? And you and I to-night have been looking +at what the world offers--in exchange." + +He ceased and dropped into a chair the other side of the fire. A silence +fell on them. Then Julie gave a little shiver. "Peter, dear," she said +tenderly, "I'm a little tired and cold." + +He was up at once and bending over her. "My darling, what a beast I am! +I clean forgot you for a minute. What will you have? What about a hot +toddy? Shall I make one?" he demanded, smiling. "Donovan taught me how, +and I'm really rather good at it." + +She smiled back at him, and put her hand up to smooth his hair. "That +would be another exchange, Peter," she said, "and I don't want it. Only +one thing can warm me to-night and give me rest." + +He read what she meant in her eyes, and knelt beside the chair to put his +arms around her. She leaned her face on his shoulder, and returned the +kisses that he showered upon her. "Poor mayflies," she said to herself, +"how they love to dance in the sun!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Ever after that next day, the Saturday, will remain in Peter's memory as +a time by itself, of special significance, but a significance, except for +one incident, very hard to place. It began, indeed, very quietly, and +very happily. They breakfasted again in their own room, and Julie was +in one of her subdued moods, if one ever could say she was subdued. +Afterwards Peter lit a cigarette and strolled over to the window. "It's a +beastly day," he said, "cloudy, cold, windy, and going to rain, I think. +What shall we do? Snow up in the hotel all the time?" + +"No," said Julie emphatically, "something quite different. You shall show +me some of the real London sights, Westminster Abbey to begin with. Then +we'll drive along the Embankment and you shall tell me what everything +is, and we'll go and see anything else you suggest. I don't suppose +you realise, Peter, that I'm all but absolutely ignorant of London." + +He turned and smiled on her. "And you really _want_ to see these things?" +he said. + +"Yes, of course I do. You don't think I suggested it for your benefit? +But if it will make you any happier, I'll flatter you a bit. I want to +see those things now, with you, partly because I'm never likely to find +anyone who can show me them better. Now then. Aren't you pleased?" + +At that, then, they started. Westminster came first, and they wandered +all over it and saw as much as the conditions of war had left for the +public to see. It amused Peter to show Julie the things that seemed to +him to have a particular interest--the Chapter House, St. Faith's Chapel, +the tomb of the Confessor, and so on. She made odd comments. In St. +Faith's she said: "I don't say many prayers, Peter, but here I couldn't +say one." + +"Why not?" he demanded. + +"Because it's too private," she said quaintly. "I should think I was +pretending to be a saint if I went past everybody else and the vergers +and things into a little place like this all by myself. Everyone would +know that I was doing something which most people don't do. See? Why +don't people pray all over the church, as they do in France in a +cathedral, Peter?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Come on," he said; "your notions are all +topsy-turvy, Julie. Come and look at the monuments." + +They wandered down the transept, and observed the majesty of England in +stone, robed in togas, declaiming to the Almighty, and obviously +convinced that He would be intensely interested; or perhaps dying in the +arms of a semi-dressed female, with funeral urns or ships or cannon +In the background; or, at least in one case, crouching hopelessly, before +the dart of a triumphant death. Julie was certainly impressed, "They are +all like ancient Romans, Peter," she said, "and much more striking than +those Cardinals and Bishops and Kings, kneeling at prayer, in Rouen +Cathedral. But, still, they were _not_ ancient Romans, were they? They +were all Christians, I suppose. Is there a Christian monument anywhere +about?" + +"I don't know," said Peter, "but we'll walk round and see." + +They made a lengthy pilgrimage, and finally Peter arrested her. "Here's +one," he said. + +A Georgian Bishop in bas-relief looked down on them, fat and comfortable. +In front of him was a monstrous cup, and a plate piled with biggish +squares of stone. Julie did not realise what it was. "What's he doing +with all that lump-sugar?" she demanded. + +Peter was really a bit horrified. "You're an appalling pagan," he said. +"Come away!" And they came. + +They roamed along the Embankment. Julie was as curious as a child, and +wanted to know all about everything, from Boadicea, Cleopatra's Needle, +and the Temple Church, to Dewar's Whisky Works and the Hotel Cecil. +Thereabouts, Julie asked the name of the squat tower and old red-brick +buildings opposite, and when she heard it was Lambeth Palace instantly +demanded to visit it. Peter was doubtful if they could, but they crossed +to see, and they were shown a good deal by the courtesy of the +authorities. The Archbishop was away, to Peter's great relief, for as +likely as not Julie would have insisted on an introduction, but they +saw the chapel and the dining-hall amongst other things. The long line +of portraits fascinated her, but not as it fascinated Peter. The +significance of the change in the costumes of the portraits struck +him for the first time--first the cope and mitre and cross, then the +skull-cap and the tippet, then the balloon-sleeves and the wig, then the +coat and breeches and white cravat, then the academic robes, and then a +purple cassock. Its interest to Julie was other, however. "Peter," she +whispered, "perhaps you'll be there one day." + +He looked at her sharply, but she was not mocking him, and, marvelling at +her simplicity and honest innocence, he relaxed into a smile. "Not very +likely, my dear," he said. "In other days a pleasant underground cell in +the Lollards' Tower would have been more likely." + +Then, of course, Julie must see the famous tower, and see a little of it +they did. She wanted to know what Lollardy was; their guide attempted an +explanation. Julie was soon bored. "I can't see why people make such a +bother about such things," she said. "A man's religion is his own +business, surely, and he must settle it for himself. Don't you think so, +Peter?" + +"Is it his own business only?" he asked gravely. + +"Whose else should it be?" she demanded. + +"God's," said Peter simply. + +Julie stared at him and sighed. "You're very odd, Peter," she said, "but +you do say things that strike one as being true. Go on." + +"Oh, there's no more to say," said Peter, "except, perhaps, this: if +anyone or any Church honestly believed that God had committed His share +in the business to them--well, then he might justifiably feel that he or +it had a good deal to do with the settling of another man's religion. +Hence this tower, Julie, and as a matter of fact, my dear, hence me, past +and present. But come on." + +She took his arm with a little shiver which he was beginning to notice +from time to time in her. "It's a horrible idea, Peter," she said. "Yes, +let's go." + +So their taxi took them to Buckingham Palace and thereabouts, and by +chance they saw the King and Queen. Their Majesties drove by smartly in +morning dress with a couple of policemen ahead, and a few women waved +handkerchiefs, and Peter came to the salute, and Julie cheered. The Queen +turned towards where she was standing, and bowed, and Peter noticed, +amazed, that the eyes of the Colonial girl were wet, and that she did not +attempt to hide it. + +He had to question her. "I shouldn't have thought you'd have felt about +royalty like that, Julie," he said. + +"Well, I do," she said, "and I don't care what you say. Only I wish +they'd go about with the Life Guards. The King's a King to me. I suppose +he is only a man, but I don't want to think of him so. He stands for the +Empire and for the Flag, and he stands for England too. I'd obey that man +almost in anything, right or wrong, but I don't know that I'd obey anyone +else." + +"Then you're a survival of the Dark Ages," he said. + +"Don't be a beast!" said Julie. + +"All right, you're not, and indeed I don't know if I am right. Very +likely you're the very embodiment of the spirit of the Present Day. +Having lost every authority, you crave for one." + +Julie considered this. "There may be something in that," she said. "But I +don't like you when you're clever. It was the King, and that's enough for +me. And I don't want to see anything more. I'm hungry; take me to lunch." + +Peter laughed. "That's it," he said--"like the follower of Prince Charlie +who shook hands once with his Prince and then vowed he would never shake +hands with anyone again. So you've seen the King, and you won't see +anything else, only your impression won't last twelve hours, +fortunately." + +"I don't suppose the other man kept his vow," said Julie. "For one thing, +no man ever does. Come on!" + +And so they drifted down the hours until the evening theatre and +_Carminetta_. They said and did nothing in particular, but they just +enjoyed themselves. In point of fact, they were emotionally tired, and, +besides, they wanted to forget how the time sped by. The quiet day was, +in its own way too, a preparation for the evening feast, and they were +both in the mood to enjoy the piece intensely when it came. The +magnificence of the new theatre in which it was staged all helped. Its +wide, easy stairways, its many conveniences, its stupendous auditorium, +its packed house, ushered it well in. Even the audience seemed different +from that of last night. + +Julie settled herself with a sigh of satisfaction to listen and watch. +And they both grew silent as the opera proceeded. At first Julie could +not contain her delight. "Oh, she's perfect, Peter," she exclaimed--"a +little bit of life! Look how she shakes her hair back and how impudent +she is--just like one of those French girls you know too much about! And +she's boiling passion too. And a regular devil. I love her, Peter!" + +"She's very like you, Julie," said Peter. + +Julie flashed a look at him. "Rubbish!" she said, but was silent. + +They watched while Carminetta set herself to win her bet and steal the +heart of the hero from the Governor's daughter. They watched her force +the palace ballroom, and forgot the obvious foolishness of a great deal +of it in the sense of the drama that was being worked out. The whole +house grew still. The English girl, with her beauty, her civilisation, +her rank and place, made her appeal to her fiance; and the Spanish +bastard dancer, with her daring, her passion, her naked humanity, so +coarse and so intensely human, made her appeal also. And they watched +while the young conventionally-bred officer hesitated; they watched till +Carminetta won. + +Julie, leaning forward, held her breath and gazed at the beautiful +fashionable room on the stage, gazed through the open French windows to +the moonlit garden and the night beyond, and gazed, though at last she +could hardly see, at the Spanish girl. That great renunciation held them +both entranced. So bitter-sweet, so humanly divine, the passionate, +heart-broken, heroic song of farewell, swelled and thrilled about them. +And with the last notes the child of the gutter reached up and up till +she made the supreme self-sacrifice, and stepped out of the gay room into +the dark night for the sake of the man she loved too much to love. + +Then Julie bowed her head into her hands, and in the silence and darkness +of their box burst into tears. And so, for the first and last time, Peter +heard her really weep. + +He said foolish man-things to comfort her. She looked up at last, +smiling, her brown eyes challengingly brave through her tears, "Peter, +forgive me," she said. "I shouldn't be such a damned fool! You never +thought I could be like that, did you? But it was so superbly done, +I couldn't help it. It's all over now--all over, Peter," she added +soberly. "I want to sit in the lounge to-night for a little, if you don't +mind. Could you possibly get a taxi? I don't want to walk." + +It was difficult to find one. Finally Peter and another officer +made a bolt simultaneously and each got hold of a door of a car that +was just coming up. Both claimed it, and the chauffeur looked round +good-humouredly at the disputants. "Settle it which-hever way you like, +gents," he said. "Hi don't care, but settle it soon." + +"Let's toss," said Peter. + +"Right-o," said the other man, and produced a coin. + +"Tails," whispered Julie behind Peter, and "Tails!" he called. + +The coin spun while the little crowd looked on in amusement, and tails it +was. "Damn!" said the other, and turned away. + +"A bad loser, Peter," said Julie; "and he's just been seeing +_Carminetta_, too! But am I not lucky! I almost always win." + +In the palm lounge Julie was very cheerful. "Coffee, Peter," she said, +"and liqueurs." + +"No drinks after nine-thirty," said the waiter. "Sorry, sir." + +Julie laughed. "I nearly swore, Peter," she said, "but I remembered in +time. If one can't get what one wants, one has to go without singing. But +I'll have a cigarette, not to say two, before we've finished. And I'm in +no hurry; I want to sit on here and pretend it's not Saturday night. And +I want to go very slowly to bed, and I don't want to sleep." + +"Is that the effect of the theatre?" asked Peter. "And why so different +from last night?" + +Julie evaded. "Don't you feel really different?" she demanded. + +"Yes," he said. + +"How?" + +"Well, I don't want to preach any sermon to-night. It's been preached." + +Julie drew hard on her cigarette, and blew out a cloud of smoke. "It has, +Peter," she said merrily, "and thank the Lord I am therefore spared +another." + +"You're very gay about it now, Julie, but you weren't at first. That play +made me feel rather miserable too. No, I think it made me feel small. +Carminetta was great, wasn't she? I don't know that there is anything +greater than that sort of sacrifice. And it's far beyond me," said Peter. + +Julie leaned back and hummed a bar or two that Peter recognised from the +last great song of the dancer. "Well, my dear, I was sad, wasn't I?" she +said. "But it's over. There's no use in sadness, is there?" + +Peter did not reply, and started as Julie suddenly laughed. "Oh, good +Lord, Peter!" she exclaimed, "to what _are_ you bringing me? Do you know +that I'm about to quote Scripture? And I damn-well shall if we sit on +here! Let's walk up Regent Street; I can't sit still. Come on." She +jumped up. + +"Just now," he said, "you wanted to sit still for ages, and now you want +to walk. What is the matter with you, Julie? And what was the text?" + +"That would be telling!" she laughed. "But can't I do anything I like, +Peter?" she demanded. "Can't I go and get drunk if I like, Peter, or sit +still, or dance down Regent Street, or send you off to bed and pick up a +nice boy? It would be easy enough here. Can't I, Peter?" + +Her mood bewildered him, and, without in the least understanding why, +he resented her levity. But he tried to hide it. "Of course you can," +he said lightly; "but you don't really want to do those things, do +you--especially the last, Julie?" + +She stood there looking at him, and then, in a moment, the excitement +died out of her voice and eyes. She dropped into a chair again. "No, +Peter," she said, "I don't. That's the marvel of it. I expect I shall, +one of these days, do most of those things, and the last as well, but I +don't think I'll ever _want_ to do them again. And that's what you've +done to me, my dear." + +Peter was very moved. He slipped his hand out and took hers under cover +of her dress. "My darling," he whispered, "I owe you everything. You +have given me all, and I won't hold back all from you. Do you remember, +Julie, that once I said I thought I loved you more than God? Well, I know +now--oh yes, I believe I do know now. But I choose you, Julie." + +Her eyes shone up at him very brightly, and he could not read them +altogether. But her lips whispered, and he thought he understood. + +"Oh, Peter, my dearest," she said, "thank God I have at least heard you +say that. I wouldn't have missed you saying those words for anything, +Peter." + +So might the serving-girl in Pilate's courtyard have been glad, had she +been in love. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Part at least of Julie's programme was fulfilled to the letter, for they +lay long in bed talking--desultory, reminiscent talk, which sent Peter's +mind back over the months and the last few days, even after Julie was +asleep in the bed next his. Like a pageant, he passed, in review scene +after scene, turning it over, and wondering at significances that he had +not before, imagined. He recalled their first meeting, that instantaneous +attraction, and he asked himself what had caused it. Her spontaneity, +freshness, and utter lack of conventionality, he supposed, but that did +not seem to explain all. He wondered at the change that had even then +come about in himself that he should have been so entranced by her, He +went over his early hopes and fears; he thought again of conversations +with Langton; and he realised afresh how true it was that the old +authorities had dwindled away; that no allegiance had been left; that his +had been a citadel without a master. And then Julie moved through his +days again--Julie at Caudebec, daring, iconoclastic, free; Julie at +Abbeville, mysterious, passionate, dominant; Julie at Dieppe--ah, Julie +at Dieppe! He marvelled that he had held out so long after Dieppe, and +then Louise rose before him. He understood Louise less than Julie, +perhaps, and with all the threads in his hand he failed to see the +pattern. He turned over restlessly. It was easy to see how they had come +to be in London; it would have been more remarkable if they had not so +come together; but now, what now? He could not sum up Julie amid the +shifting scenes of the last few days. She had been so loving, and yet, +in a way, their love had reached no climax. It had, indeed, reached what +he would once have thought a complete and ultimate climax, but plainly +Julie did not think so. And nor did he--now. The things of the spirit +were, after all, so much greater than the things of the flesh. The Julie +of Friday night had been his, but of this night...? He rolled over again. +What had she meant at the play? He told himself her tears were simple +emotion, her laughter simple reaction, but he knew it was not true.... + +And for himself? Well, Julie was Julie. He loved her intensely. She could +stir him to anything almost. He loved to be with her, to see her, to hear +her, but he did not feel satisfied. He knew that. He told himself that he +was an introspective fool; that nothing ever would seem to satisfy +him; that the centre of his life _was_ and would be Julie; that she was +real, tinglingly, intensely real; but he knew that that was not the last +word. And then and there he resolved that the last word should be spoken +on the morrow, that had, indeed, already come by the clock: she should +promise to marry him. + +He slept, perhaps, for an hour or two, but he awoke with the dawn. The +grey light was stealing in at the windows, and Julie slept beside him in +the bed between. He tried to sleep again, but could not, and, on a +sudden, had an idea. He got quietly out of bed. + +"What is it, Peter?" said Julie sleepily. + +He went round and leaned over her. "I can't sleep any more, dearest," he +said. "I think I'll dress and go for a bit of a walk. Do you mind? I'll +be in to breakfast." + +"No," she said. "Go if you want to. You are a restless old thing!" + +He dressed silently, and kept the bathroom door closed as he bathed and +shaved. She was asleep again as he stole out, one arm flung loosely on +the counterpane, her hair untidy on the pillow. He kissed a lock of it, +and let himself quietly out of their suite. + +It was still very early, and the Circus looked empty and strange. He +walked down Piccadilly, and wondered at the clean, soft touch of the +dawning day, and recalled another memorable Sunday morning walk. He +passed very familiar places, and was conscious of feeling an exile, an +inevitable one, but none the less an exile, for all that. And so he came +into St. James's Park, still as aimlessly as he had left the hotel. + +Before him, clear as a pointing finger in the morning sky, was the +campanile of that stranger among the great cathedrals of England. It +attracted him for the first time, and he made all but unconsciously +towards it, Peter was not even in the spiritual street that leads to the +gates of the Catholic Church, and it was no incipient Romanism that moved +him. He was completely ignorant of the greater part of that faith, and, +still more, had no idea of the gulf that separates it from all other +religions. He would have supposed, if he had stopped to think, that, as +with other sects, one considered its tenets, made up one's mind as to +their truth or falsehood one by one, and if one believed a sufficient +majority of them joined the Church. It was only, then, the mood of the +moment, and when, he found himself really moving towards that finger-post +he excused himself by thinking that as he was, by his own act, exiled, +from, more familiar temples, he would visit this that would have about it +a suggestion of France. + +He wondered if it would be open as he turned into Ashley Gardens. He +glanced at his watch; it was only just after seven. Perhaps an early Mass +might be beginning. He went to the central doors and found them fast; +then he saw little groups of people and individuals like himself making +for the door in the great tower, and these he followed within. + +He stood amazed for a few minutes. The vast soaring space, so austere in +its bare brick, gripped his imagination. The white and red and gold of +the painted Christ that hung so high and monstrous before the entrance to +the marbles of the sanctuary almost troubled him. It dominated everything +so completely that he felt he could not escape it. He sought one of the +many chairs and knelt down. + +A little bell tinkled, Peter glanced sideways towards the sound, and +saw that a Mass was in progress in a side-chapel of gleaming mosaics, +and that a soldier in uniform served. Hardly had he taken the details +in, when another bell claimed his attention. It came from across the +wide nave, and he perceived that another chapel had its Mass, and a +considerable congregation. And then, his attention aroused, he began to +spy about and to take in the thing. + +The whole vast cathedral was, as it were, alive. Seven or eight Masses +were in progress. One would scarcely finish before another priest, +preceded by soldier in uniform or server in cassock and cotta, would +appear from beyond the great pulpit and make his way to yet another +altar. The small handbells rang out again and again and again, and still +priest after priest was there to take his place. Peter began cautiously +to move about. He became amazed at the size of the congregation. They had +been lost in that great place, but every chapel had its people, and there +were, in reality, hundreds scattered about in the nave alone. + +He knelt for awhile and watched the giving of Communion in the guarded +chapel to the north of the high altar. Its gold and emblazoned gates were +not for him, but he could at least kneel and watch those who passed in +and out. They were of all sorts and classes, of all ranks and ages; men, +women, children, old and young, rich and poor, soldier and civilian, +streamed in and out again. Peter sighed and left them. He found an altar +at which Mass was about to begin, and he knelt at the back on a mosaic +pavement in which fishes and strange beasts were set in a marble stream, +and watched. And it was not one Mass that he watched, but two or three, +and it was there that a vision grew on his inner understanding, as he +knelt and could not pray. + +It is hard and deceptive to write of those subconscious imaginings that +convict the souls of most men some time or another. In that condition +things are largely what we fashion them to be, and one may be thought to +be asserting their ultimate truth in speaking of their influence. But +there is no escaping from the fact that Peter Graham of a lost allegiance +began that Sunday morning to be aware of another claimant. And this is +what dawned upon him, and how. + +A French memory gave him a starting-point. Here, at these Low Masses, it +was more abundantly plain than ever that these priests did not conceive +themselves to be serving a congregation, but an altar. One after the +other they moved through a ritual, and spoke low sentences that hardly +reached him, with their eyes holden by that which they did. At first he +was only conscious of this, but then he perceived the essential change +that came over each in his turn. The posturing and speaking was but +introductory to the moment when they raised the Host and knelt before it. +It was as if they were but functionaries ushering in a King, and then +effacing themselves before Him. + +Here, then, the Old Testament of Peter's past became to him a +schoolmaster. He heard himself repeating again the comfortable words of +the Prayer-Book service: "Come unto Me...." "God so loved...." "If any +man sin...." Louise's hot declaration forced itself upon him: "It is He +Who is there." And it was then that the eyes of his mind were enlightened +and he saw a vision--not, indeed, of the truth of the Roman Mass (if it +be true), and not of the place of the Sacrament in the Divine scheme of +things, but the conception of a love so great that it shook him as if +it were a storm, and bowed him before it as if he were a reed. + +The silent, waiting Jesus.... All these centuries, in every land.... How +He had been mocked, forgotten, spurned, derided, denied, cast out; and +still He waited. Prostitutes of the streets, pardoned in a word, advanced +towards Him, and He knew that so shortly again, within the secret place +of their hearts, He would be crucified; but still He waited. Careless +men, doubtless passion-mastered, came up to Him, and He knew the sort +that came; but still He waited. He, Peter, who had not known He was here +at all, and who had gone wandering off in search of any mistress, spent +many days, turned in by chance, and found Him here. What did He wait for? +Nothing; there was nothing that anyone could give, nothing but a load of +shame, the offering of a body spent by passionate days, the kiss of +traitor-lips; but still He waited. He did more than wait. He offered +Himself to it all. He had bound Himself by an oath to be kissed if Judas +planned to kiss Him, and He came through the trees to that bridal with +the dawn of every day. He had foreseen the chalice, foreseen that it +would be filled at every moon and every sun by the bitter gall of +ingratitude and wantonness and hate, but He had pledged Himself--"Even +so, Father"--and He was here to drink it. Small wonder, then, that the +paving on which Peter Graham knelt seemed to swim before his eyes until +it was in truth a moving ocean of love that streamed from the altar and +enclosed of every kind, and even him. + +The movement of chairs and the gathering of a bigger congregation than +usual near a chapel that Peter perceived to be for the dead aroused him. +He got up to go. He walked quickly up Victoria Street, and marvelled over +the scene he had left. In sight of Big Ben he glanced up--twenty to nine! +He had been, then, an hour and a half in the cathedral. He recalled +having read that a Mass took half an hour, and he began to reckon how +many persons had heard Mass even while he had been there. Not less than +five hundred at every half-hour, and most probably more. Fifteen hundred +to two thousand souls, of every sort and kind, then, had been drawn in to +that all but silent ceremony, to that showing of Jesus crucified. A +multitude--and what compassion! + +Thus he walked home, thinking of many things, but the vision he had seen +was uppermost and would not be displaced. It was still in his eyes as he +entered their bedroom and found Julie looking at a magazine as she lay in +bed, smoking a cigarette. + +"Lor', Peter, are you back? I suppose I ought to be up, but I was so +sleepy. What's the time? Why, what's the matter? Where have you been?" + +Peter did not go over to her at once as she had expected. It was not that +he felt he could not, or anything like that, but simply that he was only +thinking of her in a secondary way. He walked to the dressing-table and +lifted the flowers she had worn the night before and put there in a +little glass. + +"Where have you been, old Solomon?" demanded Julie again. + +"Seeing wonders, Julie," said Peter, looking dreamily at the blossoms. + +"No? Really? What? Do tell me. If it was anything I might have seen, you +were a beast not to come back for me, d'you hear?" + +Peter turned and stared at her, but she knew as he looked that he hardly +saw her. Her tone changed, and she made a little movement with her hand, +"Tell me, Peter," she said again. + +"I've seen," said Peter slowly, "a bigger thing than I thought the world +could hold, I've seen something so wonderful, Julie, that it hurt--oh, +more than I can say. I've seen Love, Julie." + +She could not help it. It was a foolish thing to say just then, she knew, +but it came out. "Oh, Peter," she said, "did you have to leave me to see +that?" + +"Leave you?" he questioned, and for a moment so lost in his thought was +he that he did not understand what she meant. Then it dawned on him, and +he smiled. He did not see as he stood there, the clumsy Peter, how the +two were related. So he smiled, and he came over to her, and took her +hand, and sat on the bed, his eyes still full of light. "Oh, you've +nothing to do with it," he said. "It's far bigger than you or I, Julie. +Our love is like a candle held up to the sun beside it. Our love wants +something, doesn't it? It burns, it--it intoxicates, Julie. But this love +waits, _waits_, do you understand? It asks nothing; it gives, it suffices +all. Year after year it just waits, Julie, waits for anyone, waits for +everyone. And you can spurn it, spit on it, crucify it, and it is still +there when you--need, Julie." And Peter leaned forward, and buried his +face in her little hand. + +Julie heard him through, and it was well that before the end he did not +see her eyes. Then she moved her other hand which held the half-burnt +cigarette and dropped the smoking end (so that it made a little hiss) +into her teacup on the glass-topped table, and brought her hand back, and +caressed his hair as he lay bent forward there. "Dear old Peter," she +said tenderly, "how he thinks things! And when you saw this--this love, +Peter, how did you feel?" + +He did not answer for a minute, and when he did he did not raise his +head. "Oh, I don't know, Julie," he said. "It went through and through +me. It was like a big sea, and it flooded me away. It filled me. I seemed +to drink it in at every pore. I felt satisfied just to be there." + +"And then you came back to Julie, eh, Peter?" she questioned. + +"Why, of course," he said, sitting up with a smile. "Why not?" He gave a +little laugh. "Why, Julie," he said, "I never thought of that before. I +suppose I ought to have been--oh, I don't know, but our days together +didn't seem to make any difference. That Love was too big. It seemed +to me to be too big to be--well, jealous, I suppose." + +She nodded. "That would be just it, Peter. That's how it would seem +to you. You see, I know. It's strange, my dear, but I don't feel +either--jealous." + +He frowned. "What do you mean?" he said. "Don't you understand? It was +God's Love that I saw." + +She hesitated a second, and then her face relaxed into a smile. "You're +as blind as a bat, my dear, but I suppose all men are, and so you can't +help it. Now go and ring for breakfast and smoke a cigarette in the +sitting-room while I dress." And Peter, because he hated to be called a +bat and did not feel in the least like one, went. + +He rang the bell, and the maid answered it. She did not wait for him to +give his order, but advanced towards him, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, sir," +she said, "is madame up? I don't know how to thank her, and you too. I've +wanted a frame for Jack's picture, but I couldn't get a real good one, +I couldn't. When I sees this parcel I couldn't think _what_ it was. I +forgot even as how I'd give the lady my name. Oh, she's the real good +one, she is. You'll forgive me, sir, but I know a real lady when I see +one. They haven't got no airs, and they know what a girl feels like, +right away. I put Jack in it, sir, on me table, and if there's anything +I can do for you or your lady, now or ever, I'll do it, sir." + +Peter smiled at the little outburst, but his heart warmed within him. How +just like Julie it was! "Well," he said, "it's the lady you've really to +thank. Knock, if you like; I expect she'll let you in. And then order +breakfast, will you? Bacon and eggs and some fish. Thanks." And he turned +away. + +She made for the door, but stopped, "I near forgot, sir," she said. "A +gentleman left this for you last night, and they give it to me at the +office--this morning. There was no answer, he said. He went by this +morning's train." She handed Peter an unstamped envelope bearing the +hotel's name, and left the room as he opened it. He did not recognise +the handwriting, but he tore it open and glanced at once at the +signature, and got a very considerable surprise, not to say a shock. +It was signed "Jack Donovan." + +"MY DEAR GRAHAM, [the letter ran], + +"Forgive me for writing, but I must tell you that I've seen you twice +with Julie (and each time neither of you saw anyone else but +yourselves!). It seems mean to see you and not say so, but for the Lord's +sake don't think it'll go further, or that I reproach you. I've been +there myself, old bird, and in any case I don't worry about other +people's shows. But I want to tell you a bit of news--Tommy Raynard and I +have fixed it up. I know you'll congratulate me. She's topping, and just +the girl for me--no end wiser than I, and as jolly as anyone, really. I +don't know how you and Julie are coming out of it, and I won't guess, for +it's a dreadful war; but maybe you'll be able to sympathise with me at +having to leave _my_ girl in France! However, I'm off back to-morrow, a +day before you. If you hadn't run off to Paris, you'd have known. My +leave order was from Havre. + +"Well, cheerio. See you before long. And just one word, my boy, from a +fellow who has seen a bit more than you (if you'll forgive me): remember, +_Julie'll know best_. + +"Yours, ever, +"JACK DONOVAN." + +Peter frowned over his letter, and then smiled, and then frowned again. +He was still at it when he heard Julie's footstep outside, and he thrust +the envelope quickly into his pocket, thinking rapidly. He did not in the +least understand what the other meant, especially by the last sentence, +and he wanted to consider it before showing Julie. Also, he wondered +if it was meant to be shown to Julie at all. He thought not; probably +Donovan was absolutely as good as his word, and would not even mention +anything to Tommy. But he thought no more, for Julie was on him. + +"Peter, it's started to rain! I knew it would. Why does it always rain on +Sundays in London? Probably the heavens themselves weep at the sight of +so gloomy a city. However, I don't care a damn! I've made up my mind what +we're going to do. We shall sit in front of the fire all the morning, +and you shall read to me. Will you?" + +"Anything you like, my darling," he said; "and we couldn't spend a better +morning. But bacon and eggs first, eh? No, fish first, I mean. But pour +out a cup of tea at once, for Heaven's sake. _I_ haven't had a drop this +morning." + +"Poor old thing! No wonder you're a bit off colour. No early tea after +that champagne last night! But, oh, Peter, wasn't _Carminetta_ a dream?" + +Breakfast over, Peter sat in a chair and bent over her. "What do you want +me to read, Julie darling?" he demanded. + +She considered. "_Not_ a magazine, _not La Vie Parisienne_, though we +might perhaps look at the pictures part of the time. I know! Stop! I'll +get it," She ran out and returned with a little leather-covered book. +"Read it right through, Peter," she said. "I've read it heaps of times, +but I want to hear it again to-day. Do you mind?" + +"Omar Khayyam!" exclaimed Peter. "Good idea! He's a blasphemous old +pagan, but the verse is glorious and it fits in at times. Do you want me +to start at once?" + +"Give me a cigarette! no, put the box there. Stir up the fire. Come and +sit on the floor with your back to me. That's right. Now fire away." + +She leaned back and he began. He read for the rhythm; she listened for +the meaning. He read to the end; she hardly heard more than a stanza: + +"Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! +One thing at least is certain--_this_ Life flies; +One thing is certain, and the rest is lies-- +The flower that once has blown for ever dies." + +They lunched in the hotel, and at the table Peter put the first necessary +questions that they both dreaded. "I'm going to tell them to make out my +bill, Julie," he said. "I've to be at Victoria at seven-thirty a.m. +to-morrow, you know. You've still got some leave, haven't you, dear; what +are you going to do? How long will you stay on here?" + +"Not after you've gone, Peter," she said. "Let them make it out for me +till after breakfast to-morrow." + +"But what are we going to do?" he demanded. + +"Oh, don't ask. It spoils to-day to think of to-morrow. Go to my friends, +perhaps--yes, I think that. It's only for a few days now." + +"Oh, Julie, I wish I could stay." + +"So do I, but you can't, so don't worry. What about this afternoon?" + +"If it's stopped raining, let's go for a walk, shall we?" + +They settled on that, and it was Julie who took him again to St. James's +Park. As they walked: "Where did you go to church this morning, Peter?" +she asked. + +He pointed to the campanile. "Over there," he said. + +"Then let's go together to-night," she said. + +"Do you mean it, Julie?" + +"Of course I do. I'm curious. Besides, it's Sunday, and I want to go to +church." + +"But you'll miss dinner," objected Peter. "It begins at six-thirty." + +"Well, let's get some food out--Victoria Station, for instance. Won't +that do? We can have some supper sent up afterwards in the hotel." + +Peter agreed, but they did not go to the station. In a little cafe +outside Julie saw a South African private eating eggs and bacon, and +nothing would do but that they must do the same. So they went in. They +ate off thick plates, and Julie dropped the china pepper-pot on her eggs +and generally behaved as if she were at a school-treat. But it was a +novelty, and it kept their thoughts off the fact that it was the last +night. And finally they went to church. + +The service did not impress Peter, and every time he looked at Julie's +face he wanted to laugh; but the atmosphere of the place did, though he +could not catch the impression of the morning. For the sermon, a +stoutish, foreign-looking ecclesiastic mounted the pulpit, and they both +prepared to be bored. However, he gave out his text, and Peter sat bolt +upright at once. It would have delighted the ears of his Wesleyan +corporal of the Forestry; and more than that it was the text he had +quoted in the ears of the dying Jenks. He prepared keenly to listen. As +for Julie, she was regarding the altar with a far-away look in her eyes, +and she scarcely moved the whole time. + +Outside, as soon as they were out of the crowd, Peter began at once. + +"Julie," he said, "whatever did you think of that sermon?" + +"What did you?" she said. "Tell me first." + +"I don't believe you listened at all, but I can't help talking of it. It +was amazing. He began by speaking about Adam and Eve and original sin and +the Garden of Eden as if he'd been there. There might never have been a +Higher Critic in existence. Then he said what sin did, and that sin was +only truly sin if it did do that. _That_ was to hide the face of God, to +put Him and a human being absolutely out of communication, so to speak. +And then he came to Christ, to the Cross. Did you hear him, Julie? Christ +comes in between--He got in between God and man. All the anger that +darted out of God against sin hit Him; all the blows that man struck back +against God hit Him. Do you see that, Julie? That was wonderfully put, +but the end was more wonderful. Both, ultimately, cannot kill the Heart +of Jesus. There's no sin there to merit or to feel the anger, and we can +hurt, but we can't destroy His love." + +Peter stopped, "That's what I saw a little this morning," he said after a +minute. + +"Well?" said Julie. + +"Oh, it's all so plain! If there was a way to that Heart, one would be +safe. I mean, a way that is not an emotional idea, not a subjective +experience, but something practical. Some way that a Tommy could travel, +as easily as anyone, and get to a real thing. And he said there was a +way, and just sketched it, the Sacraments--more than ours, of course, +their seven, all of them more or less, I suppose. He meant that the +Sacraments were not signs of salvation, but salvation itself. Julie, I +never saw the idea before. It's colossal. It's a thing to which one might +dedicate one's life. It's a thing to live and die gladly for. It fills +one. Don't you think so, Julie?" He spoke exultantly. + +"Peter, to be honest," said Julie, "I think you're talking fanatical +rubbish." + +"Do you really, Julie? You can't, _surely_ you can't." + +"But I do, Peter," she said sadly; "it makes no appeal to me. I can only +see one great thing in life, and it's not that. 'The rest is lies,' But, +oh! surely that great thing might not be false too. But why do you see +one thing, and I another, my dear?" + +"I don't know," said Peter, "unless--well, perhaps it's a kind of gift, +Julie, 'If thou knewest the gift of God...' Not that I know, only I can +just see a great wonderful vision, and it fills my sight." + +"I, too," she said; "but it's not your vision." + +"What is it, then?" said he, carried away by his own ideas and hardly +thinking of her. + +Her voice brought him back. "Oh, Peter, don't you know even yet?" + +He took her arm very tenderly at that. "My darling," he said, "the two +aren't incompatible. Julie, don't be sad. I love you; you know I love +you. I wish we'd never gone to the place if you think I don't, but I +haven't changed towards you a bit, Julie. I love you far, far more than +anyone else. I won't give you up, even to God!" + +It was dark where they were. Julie lifted her face to him just there. He +thought he had never heard her speak as she spoke now, there, in a London +street, under the night sky. "Peter, my darling," she said, "my brave +boy. How I love you, Peter! I know _you_ won't give me up, Peter, and I +adore you for it. Peter, hell will be heaven with the memory of that!" +There, then, he sealed her with his kiss. + + * * * * * + +Julie stirred in his arms, but the movement did not wake him any more +than the knock of the door had done. "All right," she called. "Thank +you," and, leaning over, she switched on the light. It was 5.30, and +necessary. In its radiance she bent over him, and none of her friends had +ever seen her look as she did then. She kissed him, and he opened his +eyes. + +"Half-past five, Peter," she said, as gaily as she could. "You've got to +get a move on, my dear. Two hours to dress and pack and breakfast--no, I +suppose you can do that on the train. But you've got to get there. Oh, +Lord, how it brings the war home, doesn't it? Jump up!" + +Peter sighed. "Blast the war!" he said lazily. "I shan't move. Kiss me +again, you darling, and let your hair fall over my face." + +She did so, and its glossy curtain hid them. Beneath the veil she +whispered; "Come, darling, for my sake. The longer you stay here now, +the harder it will be." + +He threw his arms round her, and then jumped out of bed yawning. + +"That's it," she said. "Now go and shave and bath while I pack for you. +Hurry up; then we'll get more time." + +While he splashed about she sought for his things, and packed for him as +she never packed for herself. As she gathered them she thought of the +night before, when, overwhelmed in a tempest of love, it had all been +left for the morning. She filled the suit-case, but she could not fasten +it. + +"Come and help, Peter," she called. + +He came out. She was kneeling on it in her loose kimono, her hair all +about her, her nightdress open at the throat. He drank her beauty in, and +then mastered himself for a minute and shut the case. "That all?" she +queried. + +"Yes," he said. "You get back into bed, my darling, or you'll catch cold. +I'll be ready in a second, and then we can have a few minutes together." + +At the glass he marshalled his arguments, and then he came over to her. +He dropped by the bedside and wound his arms about her. "Julie," he +whispered, "my darling, say you'll marry me--please, _please_!" + +She made no reply. He kissed her, unresisting, again and again. + +"Julie," he said, "you know how I love you. You do know it. You know +I'm not begging you to marry me because I've got something out of +you, perhaps when you were carried away, and now I feel I must make +reparation. My darling, it isn't that. I love you so much that I can't +live without you. I'll give up everything for you. I want to start a new +life with you. I can't go back to the old, anyhow; I don't want to: it's +a sham to me now, and I hate shams--you know I do. But you're not a sham; +our love isn't a sham. I'd die for you, Julie, my own Julie; I'd die for +the least little bit of this hair of yours, I think! But I want to live +for you. I want to put you right in the centre of everything, and live +for you, Julie. Say 'Yes,' my love, my own. You must say 'Yes,' Why don't +you, Julie?" + +And still she made no reply. + +A kind of despair seized him. "Oh, Julie," he cried, "what can I say or +what can I do? You're cruel, Julie; you're killing me! You _must_ say +'Yes' before I go. We'll meet in Havre, I know; but that will be so +different. I must have my answer now. Oh, my darling, please, please, +speak! You love me, Julie, don't you?" + +"Peter," said Julie slowly, "I love you so much that I hardly dare speak, +lest my love should carry me away. But listen, my dear, listen. Peter, +I've watched you these days; I've watched you in France. I've watched you +from the moment when I called you over to me because I was interested +and felt my fate, I suppose. I've watched you struggling along, Peter, +and I understand why you've struggled. You're built for great things, my +dear--how great I can't see and I can't even understand. No, Peter, I +can't even understand--that's part of the tragedy of it. Peter, I love +you so that my love for you _is_ my centre, it's my all in all, it's my +hope of salvation, Peter. Do you hear, my darling?--my love, it's my one +hope! If I can't keep that pure and clean, Peter, I ruin both of us. I +love you so, Peter, that I won't marry you!" + +He gave a little cry, but swiftly she put a hand over his mouth. She +smiled at him as she did so, a daring little smile. "Be quiet, you +Solomon, you," she said; "I haven't finished. There! Now listen again, +Peter: you can't help it, but you can't love me as I love you. I see it. +I--I hate it, I think; but I know it, and there's an end. You, my dear, +you _would put me_ in the centre, but you can't. I can't put _you_ out of +_my_ centre, Peter. You _would_ give up God for me, Peter, but you can't, +or if you did, you'd lose us both. But I, Peter--oh, my darling, I have +no god but you. And that's why I'll worship you, Peter, and sacrifice to +you, Peter, sacrifice to your only ultimate happiness, Peter, and +sacrifice my all." + +He tried to speak, but he could not. The past days lay before him in a +clear light at last. Her love shone on them, and shone too plainly for +mistake. He tried to deny, but he couldn't; contradict, but his heart +cried the truth, and his eyes could not hide it. But he could and did +vent his passion. "Damn God! Curse Him!" he cried. "I hate Him! Why +should He master me? I want you, Julie; I will have you; I will worship +_you_, Julie!" + +She let him speak; and, being Julie, his words only brought a more tender +light into her face. "Peter," she said, "one minute. Do you remember +where you first kissed me, my darling?--the first real kiss, I mean," and +her eyes sparkled with fun even then. "You know--ah, I see you do! You +will never forget that, will you? Perhaps you thought I didn't notice, +but I did. Neither you nor I chose it; it was Fate; perhaps it was your +God, Peter. But, anyway, look at me now as you looked then. What do you +see?" + +He stared at her, and he saw--how clearly he saw! Her sweet back-bent +head, her shining eyes, the lamp-light falling on her hair out of the +night. He even heard the sea as it beat on the stones of the quay--or +thought he did--and felt the whip of the wind. And behind her, +dominating, arms outspread, the harbour crucifix. And she saw that he +saw, and she whispered: "_Do_ you hate Him, Peter?" And he sank his head +into her hands and sobbed great dry sobs. + +"Ah, don't, don't," he heard her say--"don't Peter! It's not so bad as +that. Your life is going to be full, my beloved, with a great and burning +love; and you were right this morning, Peter, more right than you knew. +When that is there you will have place even for me--yes, even for me, the +love of what you will call your sin. And I, my dear, dear boy, I have +something even now which no devil, Peter, and no god can take away." + +He looked up. "Then there's a chance, Julie. You won't say 'Yes,' but +don't say 'No.' Let us see. I shall take no vows, Julie. I haven't an +idea what I shall do, and maybe it won't be quite as you think, and there +will be a little room for you one day. Oh, say you'll wait a while, +Julie, just to see!" + +It was the supreme moment. She saw no crucifix to sustain her, but she +did see the bastard Spanish dancing-girl. And she did not hesitate. "No, +Peter," she said, "I would not take that, and you never could give it. I +did not mean such place as that. It never can be, Peter; you are not +made for me." + +And thus did Julie, who knew no God, but Julie of the brave, clean, +steadfast heart, give Peter to Him. + + * * * * * + +The maid came in answer to her ring. "Will you light a fire, please?" +said Julie. "I suppose Captain Graham has gone?" + +"Yes, mam, he's gone, and he felt it terrible, I could see. But don't you +fear, mam, he'll be kept, I know he will. You're that good, he'll come +back to you, never fear. But it's 'ard on those they leave, ain't it, +mam?--their wives an' all." + +"Yes," said Julie, and she never spoke more bravely. "But it's got to be, +hasn't it? Would you pull the blind up? Ah, thanks; why, it's sunny! I'm +so glad. It will be good for the crossing." + +"It will be that, 'm. We gets the sun first up here. Shall I bring up the +tea, madame?" + +"I'll ring," said Julie, "when I want it. It won't be for a few minutes +yet." + +The girl went out, and the door shut behind her. Julie lay on still for a +little, and then she got up. She walked to the window and looked out, and +she threw her arms wide with a gesture, and shut her eyes, and let the +sun fall on her. Then she walked to her little trunk, and rummaged in it. +From somewhere far down she drew out a leather case, and with it in her +hand she went over and sat by the fire. She held it without moving for a +minute, and then she slowly opened it. One by one she drew out a few +worthless things--a withered bunch of primroses, a couple of little +scribbled notes, a paper cap from a cracker, a menu card, a handkerchief +of her own that she had lent to him, and that he (just like Peter) had +given back. She held them all in her hand a minute, and then she bent +forward and dropped them in the open fire. + +And the sun rose a little higher, and fell on the tumbled brown hair that +Peter had kissed and that now hid her eyes. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Simon Called Peter, by Robert Keable + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIMON CALLED PETER *** + +***** This file should be named 14579.txt or 14579.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/5/7/14579/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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