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diff --git a/27786-h/27786-h.htm b/27786-h/27786-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..726da2c --- /dev/null +++ b/27786-h/27786-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15121 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rough Road, by William John Locke</title> + <style type="text/css" media="screen"> + * {margin:0; padding:0;} /* "reset" -- so later classes work properly */ + body { width:80%; margin:0 10%; font-family:serif;} + h1, h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h1.pg,h3.pg {text-align:center; font-weight:bold;} + p {text-align:justify;text-indent:1em;line-height:1.5;} + blockquote {margin:1em 3em; font-size:.9em;} + + #title_page, #dedication_page {margin:2em 0; padding:2em 0;} + #title_page p, #dedication_page p {text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + #author {font-size:1.75em; line-height:2em;} + #author em {font-size:.75em;} + #edition {font-style:italic;margin:5em 0;} + #publisher, #dedicatee {font-size:1.2em;line-height:1.2;} + #internal_title {font-size:1.5em;text-indent:0em;text-align:center;margin:4em 0;} + + /* Page Numbering */ + .pagenum { position: absolute; left: 2em; font-size: 10px; text-align: left; color: gray; background-color: inherit; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-indent: 0em; } + /*a[title].pagenum:after { content: attr(title); }*/ /* Uncomment this instruction to show page numbers */ + .disguise {color:window;} /* Used to make some page numbers invisible but still anchors. Used on pages that do not have page numbers printed on them but are included in the numbering scheme. */ + + + .chapter {margin:5em 0;} + .chapter_title {margin:2em 0;} + .first_paragraph {text-indent:0em;} + .first_word {font-variant:small-caps; font-size:1.5em;line-height:1.2;} + + .thoughtbreak {display:none;} + .post_thoughtbreak {margin-top:2em;} + + .salutation {font-variant:small-caps; text-indent:0;} + .name {font-variant:small-caps;} + .signature {text-indent:0em; text-align:right; margin-right:1em;} + + #the_beginning {border-top:1px gray solid;} + #the_end {border-bottom:1px gray solid;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rough Road, by William John Locke</h1> +<p> </p> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Rough Road</p> +<p>Author: William John Locke</p> +<p>Release Date: January 12, 2009 [eBook #27786]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROUGH ROAD***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by David Clarke, Barbara Tozier,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div id="title_page"><a class="pagenum disguise" id="page1" title="1"> </a> + <h1>THE ROUGH ROAD</h1> + + <p id="author"><em>by</em><br /> + WILLIAM J. LOCKE</p> + + <p id="edition">First Edition <span style="padding:0em 2em;">. . .</span> September 1918</p> + + <p id="publisher">JOHN LANE <br /> + THE BODLEY HEAD LTD</p> +</div> +<div id="dedication_page"><a class="pagenum disguise" id="page2" title="2"> </a> + <p id="dedicatee">TO <br /> + SHEILA</p> + + <p>THIS LITTLE TALE OF <br /> + THE GREAT WAR <br /> + AS A MEMORY FOR AFTER YEARS</p> +</div> +<p id="internal_title"><a class="pagenum" id="page3" title="3"> </a>THE ROUGH ROAD</p> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_I"> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER I</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">This</span> is the story of Doggie Trevor. It tells of + his doings and of a girl in England and a girl + in France. Chiefly it is concerned with the influences + that enabled him to win through the war. Doggie + Trevor did not get the Victoria Cross. He got no + cross or distinction whatever. He did not even attain + the sorrowful glory of a little white cross above his + grave on the Western Front. Doggie was no hero of + romance, ancient or modern. But he went through + with it and is alive to tell the tale.</p> + + <p>The brutal of his acquaintance gave him the name + of “Doggie” years before the war was ever thought + of, because he had been brought up from babyhood + like a toy Pom. The almost freak offspring of elderly + parents, he had the rough world against him from + birth. His father died before he had cut a tooth. + His mother was old enough to be his grandmother. + She had the intense maternal instinct and the brain, + such as it is, of an earwig. She wrapped Doggie—his + real name was James Marmaduke—in cotton-wool, + and kept him so until he was almost a grown + man. Doggie had never a chance. She brought him + up like a toy Pom until he was twenty-one—and then + she died. Doggie being comfortably off, continued + the maternal tradition and kept on bringing himself + <a class="pagenum" id="page4" title="4"> </a>up like a toy Pom. He did not know what else to + do. Then, when he was five-and-twenty, he found + himself at the edge of the world gazing in timorous + starkness down into the abyss of the Great War. + Something kicked him over the brink and sent him + sprawling into the thick of it.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">That the world knows little of its greatest men + is a commonplace among silly aphorisms. With far + more justice it may be stated that of its least men the + world knows nothing and cares less. Yet the Doggies + of the War, who on the cry of “Havoc!” have been + let loose, much to their own and everybody else’s + stupefaction, deserve the passing tribute sometimes, + poor fellows, of a sigh, sometimes of a smile, often + of a cheer. Very few of them—very few, at any + rate, of the English Doggies—have tucked their little + tails between their legs and run away. Once a brawny + humorist wrote to Doggie Trevor “<em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Sursum cauda.</em>” + Doggie happened to be at the time in a water-logged + front trench in Flanders and the writer basking in the + mild sunshine of Simla with his Territorial regiment. + Doggie, bidden by the Hedonist of circumstance to + up with his tail, felt like a scorpion.</p> + + <p>Such feelings, however, will be more adequately + dealt with hereafter. For the moment, it is only + essential to obtain a general view of the type to which + Trevor belonged.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">If there is one spot in England where the present + is the past, where the future is still more of the past, + where the past wraps you and enfolds you in the + dreamy mist of Gothic beauty, where the lazy meadows + sloping riverward deny the passage of the centuries, + where the very clouds are secular, it is the cathedral + <a class="pagenum" id="page5" title="5"> </a>town of Durdlebury. No factory chimneys defile with + their smoke its calm air, or defy its august and heaven-searching + spires. No rabble of factory hands shocks + its few and sedate streets. Divine Providence, according + to the devout, and the crass stupidity of the local + authorities seventy years ago, according to progressive + minds, turned the main line of railway twenty miles + from the sacred spot. So that to this year of grace it + is the very devil of a business to find out, from Bradshaw, + how to get to Durdlebury, and, having found, + to get there. As for getting away, God help you! + But whoever wanted to get away from Durdlebury, + except the Bishop? In pre-motor days he used to + grumble tremendously and threaten the House of + Lords with Railway Bills and try to blackmail the + Government with dark hints of resignation, and so he + lived and threatened and made his wearisome diocesan + round of visits and died. But now he has his episcopal + motor-car, which has deprived him of his grievances.</p> + + <p>In the Close of Durdlebury, greenswarded, silent, + sentinelled by immemorial elms that guard the dignified + Gothic dwellings of the cathedral dignitaries, was + James Marmaduke Trevor born. His father, a man + of private fortune, was Canon of Durdlebury. For + many years he lived in the most commodious canonical + house in the Close with his sisters Sophia and Sarah. + In the course of time a new Dean, Dr. Conover, + was appointed to Durdlebury, and, restless innovator + that he was, underpinned the North Transept and + split up Canon Trevor’s home by marrying Sophia. + Then Sarah, bitten by the madness, committed abrupt + matrimony with the Rev. Vernon Manningtree, Rector + of Durdlebury. Canon Trevor, many years older + than his sisters, remained for some months in bewildered + loneliness, until one day he found himself standing + <a class="pagenum" id="page6" title="6"> </a>in front of the cathedral altar with Miss Mathilda + Jessup, while the Bishop pronounced over them words + diabolically strange yet ecclesiastically familiar. Miss + Jessup, thus transformed into Mrs. Trevor, was a + mature and comfortable maiden lady of ample means, + the only and orphan daughter of a late Bishop of Durdlebury. + Never had there been such a marrying and + giving in marriage in the cathedral circle. Children + were born in Decanal, Rectorial and Canonical homes. + First a son to the Manningtrees, whom they named + Oliver. Then a daughter to the Conovers. Then + a son, named James Marmaduke, after the late Bishop + Jessup, was born to the Trevors. The profane say + that Canon Trevor, a profound patristic theologian + and an enthusiastic palæontologist, couldn’t make head + or tail of it all, and, unable to decide whether James + Marmaduke should be attributed to Tertullian or the + Neolithic period, expired in an agony of dubiety. At + any rate, the poor man died. The widow, of necessity, + moved from the Close, in order to make way for the + new Canon, and betook herself with her babe to + Denby Hall, the comfortable house on the outskirts of + the town in which she had dwelt before her marriage.</p> + + <p>The saturated essence of Durdlebury ran in Marmaduke’s + blood: an honourable essence, a proud essence; + an essence of all that is statically beautiful and dignified + in English life; but an essence which, without + admixture of wilder and more fluid elements, is apt + to run thick and clog the arteries. Marmaduke was + coddled from his birth. The Dean, then a breezy, + energetic man, protested. Sarah Manningtree protested. + But when the Dean’s eldest born died of + diphtheria, Mrs. Trevor, in her heart, set down the + death as a judgment on Sophia for criminal carelessness; + and when young Oliver Manningtree grew up + <a class="pagenum" id="page7" title="7"> </a>to be an intolerable young Turk and savage, she looked + on Marmaduke and, thanking heaven that he was + not as other boys were, enfolded him more than ever + beneath her motherly wing. When Oliver went to + school in the town and tore his clothes, and rolled in + mud and punched other boys’ heads, Marmaduke + remained at home under the educational charge of a + governess. Oliver, lean and lanky and swift-eyed, + swaggered through the streets unattended from the + first day they sent him to a neighbouring kindergarten. + As the months and years of his childish life + passed, he grew more and more independent and vagabond. + He swore blood brotherhood with a butcher-boy + and, unknown to his pious parents, became the + leader of a ferocious gang of pirates. Marmaduke, + on the other hand, was never allowed to cross the + road without feminine escort. Oliver had the profoundest + contempt for Marmaduke. Being two years + older, he kicked him whenever he had a chance. + Marmaduke loathed him. Marmaduke shrank into + Miss Gunter, the governess’s, skirts whenever he saw + him. Mrs. Trevor therefore regarded Oliver as the + youthful incarnation of Beelzebub, and quarrelled + bitterly with her sister-in-law.</p> + + <p>One day, Oliver, with three or four of his piratical + friends, met Marmaduke and Miss Gunter and a little + toy terrier in the High Street. The toy terrier was + attached by a lead to Miss Gunter on the one side, + Marmaduke by a hand on the other. Oliver straddled + rudely across the path.</p> + + <p>“Hallo! Look at thet two little doggies!” he + cried. He snapped his fingers at the terrier. “Come + along, Tiny!” The terrier yapped. Oliver grinned + and turned to Marmaduke. “Come along, Fido, + dear little doggie.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page8" title="8"> </a>“You’re a nasty, rude, horrid boy, and I shall tell + your mother,” declared Miss Gunter indignantly.</p> + + <p>But Oliver and his pirates laughed with the truculence + befitting their vocation, and bowing with ironical + politeness, let their victim depart to the parody of a + popular song: “Good-bye, Doggie, we shall miss + you.”</p> + + <p>From that day onwards Marmaduke was known + as “Doggie” throughout all Durdlebury, save to his + mother and Miss Gunter. The Dean himself grew + to think of him as “Doggie.” People to this day + call him Doggie, without any notion of the origin of + the name.</p> + + <p>To preserve him from persecution, Mrs. Trevor + jealously guarded him from association with other boys. + He neither learned nor played any boyish games. In + defiance of the doctor, whom she regarded as a member + of the brutal anti-Marmaduke League, Mrs. Trevor + proclaimed Marmaduke’s delicacy of constitution. He + must not go out into the rain, lest he should get damp, + nor into the hot sunshine, lest he should perspire. + She kept him like a precious plant in a carefully warmed + conservatory. Doggie, used to it from birth, looked + on it as his natural environment. Under feminine + guidance and tuition he embroidered and painted + screens and played the piano and the mandolin, and + read Miss Charlotte Yonge and learned history from + the late Mrs. Markham. Without doubt his life was + a happy one. All that he asked for was sequestration + from Oliver and his associates.</p> + + <p>Now and then the cousins were forced to meet—at + occasional children’s parties, for instance. A little + daughter, Peggy, had been born in the Deanery, replacing + the lost firstborn, and festivals—to which came + the extreme youth of Durdlebury—were given in her + <a class="pagenum" id="page9" title="9"> </a>honour. She liked Marmaduke, who was five years + her senior, because he was gentle and clean and wore + such beautiful clothes and brushed his hair so nicely; + whereas she detested Oliver, who, even at an afternoon + party, looked as if he had just come out of a + rabbit-hole. Besides, Marmaduke danced beautifully; + Oliver couldn’t and wouldn’t, disdaining such effeminate + sports. His great joy was to put out a sly leg + and send Doggie and his partner sprawling. Once the + Dean caught him at it, and called him a horrid little + beast, and threatened him with neck and crop expulsion + if he ever did it again. Doggie, who had picked + himself up and listened to the rebuke, said:</p> + + <p>“I’m very glad to hear you talk to him like that, + Uncle. I think his behaviour is perfectly detestable.”</p> + + <p>The Dean’s lips twitched and he turned away + abruptly. Oliver glared at Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Oh, my holy aunt!” he whispered hoarsely. + “Just you wait till I get you alone!”</p> + + <p>Oliver got him alone, an hour later, in a passage, + having lain in ambush for him, and after a few busy + moments, contemplated a bruised and bleeding Doggie + blubbering in a corner.</p> + + <p>“Do you think my behaviour is detestable now?”</p> + + <p>“Yes,” whimpered Doggie.</p> + + <p>“I’ve a good mind to go on licking you until you + say ‘no,’” said Oliver.</p> + + <p>“You’re a great big bully,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>Oliver reflected. He did not like to be called a + bully. “Look here,” said he, “I’ll stick my right + arm down inside the back of my trousers and fight + you with my left.”</p> + + <p>“I don’t want to fight. I can’t fight,” cried + Doggie.</p> + + <p>Oliver put his hands in his pockets.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page10" title="10"> </a>“Will you come and play Kiss-in-the-Ring, then?” + he asked sarcastically.</p> + + <p>“No,” replied Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Well, don’t say I haven’t made you generous + offers,” said Oliver, and stalked away.</p> + + <p>It was all very well for the Rev. Vernon Manningtree, + when discussing this incident with the Dean, + to dismiss Doggie with a contemptuous shrug and + call him a little worm without any spirit. The unfortunate + Doggie remained a human soul with a human + destiny before him. As to his lack of spirit——</p> + + <p>“Where,” said the Dean, a man of wider sympathies, + “do you suppose he could get any from? Look at + his parentage. Look at his upbringing by that idiot + woman.”</p> + + <p>“If he belonged to me, I’d drown him,” said the + Rector.</p> + + <p>“If I had my way with Oliver,” said the Dean, + “I’d skin him alive.”</p> + + <p>“I’m afraid he’s a young devil,” said the Rector, + not without paternal pride. “But he has the makings + of a man.”</p> + + <p>“So has Marmaduke,” replied the Dean.</p> + + <p>“Bosh!” said Mr. Manningtree.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">When Oliver went to Rugby, happier days than + ever dawned for Marmaduke. There were only the + holidays to fear. But as time went on, the haughty + contempt of Oliver, the public-school boy, for the + home-bred Doggie, forbade him to notice the little + creature’s existence; so that even the holidays lost + their gloomy menace and became like the normal + halcyontide. Meanwhile Doggie grew up. When + he reached the age of fourteen, the Dean, by strenuous + endeavour, rescued him from the unavailing tuition + <a class="pagenum" id="page11" title="11"> </a>of Miss Gunter. But school for Marmaduke Mrs. + Trevor would not hear of. It was brutal of Edward—the + Dean—to suggest such a thing. Marmaduke—so + sensitive and delicate—school would kill him. + It would undo all the results of her unceasing care. + It would make him coarse and vulgar, like other horrid + boys. She would sooner see him dead at her feet + than at a public school. It was true that he ought + to have the education of a gentleman. She did not + need Edward to point out her duty. She would + engage a private tutor.</p> + + <p>“All right. I’ll get you one,” said the Dean.</p> + + <p>The Master of his old college at Cambridge sent + him an excellent youth, who had just taken his degree—a + second class in the Classical Tripos—an all-round + athlete and a gentleman. The first thing he did + was to take Marmaduke on the lazy river that flowed + through the Durdlebury meadows, thereby endangering + his life, woefully blistering his hands, and making + him ache all over his poor little body. After a quarter + of an hour’s interview with Mrs. Trevor, the indignant + young man threw up his post and departed.</p> + + <p>Mrs. Trevor determined to select a tutor herself. + A scholastic agency sent her a dozen candidates. She + went to London and interviewed them all. A woman, + even of the most limited intelligence, invariably knows + what she wants, and invariably gets it. Mrs. Trevor + got Phineas McPhail, M.A. Glasgow, B.A. Cambridge + (Third Class Mathematical Greats), reading for Holy + Orders.</p> + + <p>“I was training for the ministry in the Free Kirk + of Scotland,” said he, “when I gradually became aware + of the error of my ways, and saw that there could only + be salvation in the episcopal form of Church government. + As the daughter of a bishop, Mrs. Trevor, + <a class="pagenum" id="page12" title="12"> </a>you will appreciate my conscientious position. An + open scholarship and the remainder of my little patrimony + enabled me to get my Oxford degree. You + would have no objection to my continuing my theological + studies while I undertake the education of + your son?”</p> + + <p>Phineas McPhail pleased Mrs. Trevor. He had + what she called a rugged, honest Scotch face, with a + very big nose in the middle of it, and little grey eyes + overhung by brown and shaggy eyebrows. He spoke + with the mere captivating suggestion of an accent. + The son of decayed, proud, and now extinct gentlefolk, + he presented personal testimonials of an unexceptionable + quality.</p> + + <p>Phineas McPhail took to Doggie and Durdlebury + as a duck to water. He read for Holy Orders for + seven years. When the question of his ordination + arose, he would declare impressively that his sacred + duty was the making of Marmaduke into a scholar + and a Christian. That duty accomplished, he would + begin to think of himself. Mrs. Trevor accounted + him the most devoted and selfless friend that woman + ever had. He saw eye to eye with her in every detail + of Marmaduke’s upbringing. He certainly taught the + boy, who was naturally intelligent, a great deal, and + repaired the terrible gaps in Miss Gunter’s system of + education. McPhail had started life with many eager + curiosities, under the impulse of which he had amassed + considerable knowledge of a superficial kind which, + lolling in an arm-chair, with a pipe in his mouth, + he found easy to impart. To the credit side of Mrs. + Trevor’s queer account it may be put that she did not + object to smoking. The late Canon smoked incessantly. + Perhaps the odour of tobacco was the only + keen memory of her honeymoon and brief married life.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page13" title="13"> </a>During his seven years of soft living, Phineas McPhail + scientifically developed an original taste for whisky. + He seethed himself in it as the ancients seethed a kid + in its mother’s milk. He had the art to do himself + to perfection. Mrs. Trevor beheld in him the mellowest + and blandest of men. Never had she the slightest + suspicion of evil courses. To such a pitch of cunning + in the observance of the proprieties had he arrived, + that the very servants knew not of his doings. It + was only later—after Mrs. Trevor’s death—when a + surveyor was called in by Marmaduke to put the old + house in order, that a disused well at the back of the + house was found to be half filled with hundreds of + whisky bottles secretly thrown in by Phineas McPhail.</p> + + <p>The Dean and Mr. Manningtree, although ignorant + of McPhail’s habits, agreed in calling him a lazy + hound and a parasite on their fond sister-in-law. And + they were right. But Mrs. Trevor turned a deaf + ear to their slanders. They were unworthy to be + called Christian men, let alone ministers of the Gospel. + Were it not for the sacred associations of her father + and her husband, she would never enter the cathedral + again. Mr. McPhail was exactly the kind of tutor + that Marmaduke needed. Mr. McPhail did not + encourage him to play rough games, or take long + walks, or row on the river, because he appreciated his + constitutional delicacy. He was the only man in the + world during her unhappy widowhood who understood + Marmaduke. He was a treasure beyond price.</p> + + <p>When Doggie was sixteen, fate, fortune, chance, or + whatever you like to call it, did him a good turn. It + made his mother ill, and sent him away with her to + foreign health resorts. Doggie and McPhail travelled + luxuriously, lived in luxurious hotels and visited in + luxurious ease various picture galleries and monuments + <a class="pagenum" id="page14" title="14"> </a>of historic or æsthetic interest. The boy, artistically + inclined and guided by the idle yet well-informed + Phineas, profited greatly. Phineas sought profit to + them both in other ways.</p> + + <p>“Mrs. Trevor,” said he, “don’t you think it a + sinful shame for Marmaduke to waste his time over + Latin and mathematics, and such things as he can + learn at home, instead of taking advantage of his + residence in a foreign country to perfect himself in + the idiomatic and conversational use of the language?”</p> + + <p>Mrs. Trevor, as usual, agreed. So thenceforward, + whenever they were abroad, which was for three or + four months of each year, Phineas revelled in sheer + idleness, nicotine, and the skilful consumption of + alcohol, while highly paid professors taught Marmaduke—and, + incidentally, himself—French and Italian.</p> + + <p>Of the world, however, and of the facts, grim or + seductive, of life, Doggie learned little. Whether by + force of some streak of honesty, whether through + sheer laziness, whether through canny self-interest, + Phineas McPhail conspired with Mrs. Trevor to keep + Doggie in darkest ignorance. His reading was selected + like that of a young girl in a convent: he was taken + only to the most innocent of plays: foreign theatres, + casinos, and such-like wells of delectable depravity, + existed almost beyond his ken. Until he was twenty + it never occurred to him to sit up after his mother had + gone to bed. Of strange goddesses he knew nothing. + His mother saw to that. He had a mild affection + for his cousin Peggy, which his mother encouraged. + She allowed him to smoke cigarettes, drink fine claret, + the remains of the cellar of her father, the bishop, a + connoisseur, and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">crème de menthe</em>. And, until she + died, that was all poor Doggie knew of the lustiness + of life.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page15" title="15"> </a>Mrs. Trevor died, and Doggie, as soon as he had + recovered from the intensity of his grief, looked out + upon a lonely world. Phineas, like Mrs. Micawber, + swore he would never desert him. In the perils of + Polar exploration or the comforts of Denby Hall, he + would find Phineas McPhail ever by his side. The + first half-dozen or so of these declarations consoled + Doggie tremendously. He dreaded the Church + swallowing up his only protector and leaving him + defenceless. Conscientiously, however, he said:</p> + + <p>“I don’t want your affection for me to stand in + your way, sir.”</p> + + <p>“‘Sir’?” cried Phineas, “is it not practicable for + us to do away with the old relations of master and pupil, + and become as brothers? You are now a man, and + independent. Let us be Pylades and Orestes. Let + us share and share alike. Let us be Marmaduke and + Phineas.”</p> + + <p>Doggie was touched by such devotion. “But your + ambitions to take Holy Orders, which you have sacrificed + for my sake?”</p> + + <p>“I think it may be argued,” said Phineas, “that + the really beautiful life is delight in continued sacrifice. + Besides, my dear boy, I am not quite so sure + as I was when I was young, that by confining + oneself within the narrow limits of a sacerdotal + profession, one can retain all one’s wider sympathies + both with human infirmity and the gladder things of + existence.”</p> + + <p>“You’re a true friend, Phineas,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“I am,” replied Phineas.</p> + + <p>It was just after this that Doggie wrote him a + cheque for a thousand pounds on account of a vaguely + indicated year’s salary.</p> + + <p>If Phineas had maintained the wily caution which + <a class="pagenum" id="page16" title="16"> </a>he had exercised for the past seven years, all might + have been well. But there came a time when unneedfully + he declared once more that he would never + desert Marmaduke, and declaring it, hiccoughed so + horribly and stared so glassily, that Doggie feared he + might be ill. He had just lurched into Doggie’s own + peacock-blue and ivory sitting-room when he was + mournfully playing the piano.</p> + + <p>“You’re unwell, Phineas. Let me get you something.”</p> + + <p>“You’re right, laddie,” Phineas agreed, his legs + giving way alarmingly, so that he collapsed on a + brocade-covered couch. “It’s a touch of the sun, + which I would give you to understand,” he continued + with a self-preservatory flash, for it was an overcast + day in June, “is often magnified in power when it + is behind a cloud. A wee drop of whisky is what I + require for a complete recovery.”</p> + + <p>Doggie ran into the dining-room and returned with + a decanter of whisky, glass and siphon—an adjunct + to the sideboard since Mrs. Trevor’s death. Phineas + filled half the tumbler with spirit, tossed it off, smiled + fantastically, tried to rise, and rolled upon the carpet. + Doggie, frightened, rang the bell. Peddle, the old + butler, appeared.</p> + + <p>“Mr. McPhail is ill. I can’t think what can be + the matter with him.”</p> + + <p>Peddle looked at the happy Phineas with the eyes + of experience.</p> + + <p>“If you will allow me to say so, sir,” said he, “the + gentleman is dead drunk.”</p> + + <p>And that was the beginning of the end of Phineas. + He lost grip of himself. He became the scarlet scandal + of Durdlebury and the terror of Doggie’s life. The + Dean came to the rescue of a grateful nephew. A + <a class="pagenum" id="page17" title="17"> </a>swift attack of delirium tremens crowned and ended + Phineas McPhail’s Durdlebury career.</p> + + <p>“My boy,” said the Dean on the day of Phineas’s + expulsion, “I don’t want to rub it in unduly, but I’ve + warned your poor mother for years, and you for months, + against this bone-idle, worthless fellow. Neither of + you would listen to me. But you see that I was right. + Perhaps now you may be more inclined to take my + advice.”</p> + + <p>“Yes, Uncle,” replied Doggie submissively.</p> + + <p>The Dean, a comfortable florid man in the early + sixties, took up his parable and expounded it for three-quarters + of an hour. If ever young man heard that + which was earnestly meant for his welfare, Doggie + heard it from his Very Reverend Uncle’s lips.</p> + + <p>“And now, my dear boy,” said the Dean by way + of peroration, “you cannot but understand that it is + your bounden duty to apply yourself to some serious + purpose in life.”</p> + + <p>“I do,” said Doggie. “I’ve been thinking over + it for a long time. I’m going to gather material for + a history of wall-papers.”</p> +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_II"><a class="pagenum" id="page18" title="18"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER II</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">Thenceforward</span> Doggie, like the late Mr. + Matthew Arnold’s fellow-millions, lived alone. + He did not complain. There was little to complain + about. He owned a pleasant old house set in fifteen + acres of grounds. He had an income of three thousand + pounds a year. Old Peddle, the butler, and his wife, + the housekeeper, saved him from domestic cares. + Rising late and retiring early, like the good King of + Yvetot, he cheated the hours that might have proved + weary. His meals, his toilet, his music, his wall-papers, + his drawing and embroidering—specimens of the last + he exhibited with great success at various shows held + by Arts and Crafts Guilds, and such-like high and + artistic fellowships—his sweet-peas, his chrysanthemums, + his postage stamps, his dilettante reading and + his mild social engagements, filled most satisfyingly + the hours not claimed by slumber. Now and then + appointments with his tailor summoned him to London. + He stayed at the same mildewed old family hotel in + the neighbourhood of Bond Street at which his mother + and his grandfather, the bishop, had stayed for uncountable + years. There he would lunch and dine + stodgily in musty state. In the evenings he would + go to the plays discussed in the less giddy of Durdlebury + ecclesiastical circles. The play over, it never + occurred to him to do otherwise than drive decorously + back to Sturrocks’s Hotel. Suppers at the Carlton + or the Savoy were outside his sphere of thought or + <a class="pagenum" id="page19" title="19"> </a>opportunity. His only acquaintance in London were + vague elderly female friends of his mother, who invited + him to chilly semi-suburban teas and entertained him + with tepid reminiscence and criticism of their divers + places of worship. The days in London thus passed + drearily, and Doggie was always glad to get home + again.</p> + + <p>In Durdlebury he began to feel himself appreciated. + The sleepy society of the place accepted him as a young + man of unquestionable birth and irreproachable morals. + He could play the piano, the harp, the viola, the flute, + and the clarinet, and sing a very true mild tenor. As + secretary of the Durdlebury Musical Association, he + filled an important position in the town. Dr. Flint—Joshua + Flint, Mus. Doc.—organist of the cathedral, + scattered broadcast golden opinions of Doggie. There + was once a concert of old English music, which the + dramatic critics of the great newspapers attended—and + one of them mentioned Doggie—“Mr. Marmaduke + Trevor, who played the viol da gamba as to the manner + born.” Doggie cut out the notice, framed it, and + stuck it up in his peacock and ivory sitting-room.</p> + + <p>Besides music, Doggie had other social accomplishments. + He could dance. He could escort young + ladies home of nights. Not a dragon in Durdlebury + would not have trusted Doggie with untold daughters. + With women, old and young, he had no shynesses. He + had been bred among them, understood their purely + feminine interests, and instinctively took their point of + view. On his visits to London, he could be entrusted + with commissions. He could choose the exact shade + of silk for a drawing-room sofa cushion, and had an + unerring taste in the selection of wedding presents. + Young men, other than budding ecclesiastical dignitaries, + were rare in Durdlebury, and Doggie had little to + <a class="pagenum" id="page20" title="20"> </a>fear from the competition of coarser masculine natures. + In a word, Doggie was popular.</p> + + <p>Although of no mean or revengeful nature, he + was human enough to feel a little malicious satisfaction + when it was proved to Durdlebury that Oliver had + gone to the devil. His Aunt Sarah, Mrs. Manningtree, + had died midway in the Phineas McPhail period; + Mr. Manningtree a year or so later had accepted a + living in the North of England, and died when Doggie + was about four-and-twenty. Meanwhile Oliver, who + had been withdrawn young from Rugby, where he + had been a thorn in the side of the authorities, and + had been pinned like a cockchafer to a desk in a family + counting-house in Lothbury, E.C., had broken loose, + quarrelled with his father, gone off with paternal + malediction and a maternal heritage of a thousand + pounds to California, and was lost to the family ken. + When a man does not write to his family, what explanation + can there be save that he is ashamed to do so? + Oliver was ashamed of himself. He had taken to + desperate courses. He was an outlaw. He had gone + to the devil. His name was rarely mentioned in + Durdlebury—to Marmaduke Trevor’s very great and + catlike satisfaction. Only to the Dean’s ripe and + kindly wisdom was his name not utterly anathema.</p> + + <p>“My dear,” said he once to his wife, who was + deploring her nephew’s character and fate—“I have + hopes of Oliver even yet. A man must have something + of the devil in him if he wants to drive the devil out.”</p> + + <p>Mrs. Conover was shocked. “My dear Edward!” + she cried.</p> + + <p>“My dear Sophia,” said he, with a twinkle in his + mild blue eyes that had puzzled her from the day + when he first put a decorous arm round her waist. + “My dear Sophia, if you knew what a ding-dong scrap + <a class="pagenum" id="page21" title="21"> </a>of fiends went on inside me before I could bring myself + to vow to be a virtuous milk-and-water parson, your + hair, which is as long and beautiful as ever, would + stand up straight on end.”</p> + + <p>Mrs. Conover sighed.</p> + + <p>“I give you up.”</p> + + <p>“It’s too late,” said the Dean.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">The Manningtrees, father and mother and son, + were gone. Doggie bore the triple loss with equanimity. + Then Peggy Conover, hitherto under the + eclipse of boarding-schools, finishing schools and foreign + travel, swam, at the age of twenty, within his orbit. + When first they met, after a year’s absence, she very + gracefully withered the symptoms of the cousinly kiss, + to which they had been accustomed all their lives, + by stretching out a long, frank, and defensive arm. + Perhaps if she had allowed the salute, there would have + been an end of the matter. But there came the + phenomenon which, unless she was a minx of craft + and subtlety, she did not anticipate; for the first + time in his life he was possessed of a crazy desire to + kiss her. Doggie fell in love. It was not a wild + consuming passion. He slept well, he ate well, and + he played the flute without a sigh causing him to + blow discordantly into the holes of the instrument. + Peggy vowing that she would not marry a parson, he + had no rivals. He knew not even the pinpricks of + jealousy. Peggy liked him. At first she delighted + in him as in a new and animated toy. She could pull + strings and the figure worked amazingly and amusingly. + He proved himself to be a useful toy, too. + He was at her beck all day long. He ran on errands, + he fetched and carried. Peggy realized blissfully that + she owned him. He haunted the Deanery.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page22" title="22"> </a>One evening after dinner the Dean said:</p> + + <p>“I am going to play the heavy father. How are + things between you and Peggy?”</p> + + <p>Marmaduke, taken unawares, reddened violently. + He murmured that he didn’t know.</p> + + <p>“You ought to,” said the Dean. “When a young + man converts himself into a girl’s shadow, even although + he is her cousin and has been brought up with + her from childhood, people begin to gossip. They + gossip even within the august precincts of a stately + cathedral.”</p> + + <p>“I’m very sorry,” said Marmaduke. “I’ve had + the very best intentions.”</p> + + <p>The Dean smiled.</p> + + <p>“What were they?”</p> + + <p>“To make her like me a little,” replied Marmaduke. + Then, feeling that the Dean was kindly disposed, he + blurted out awkwardly: “I hoped that one day I + might ask her to marry me.”</p> + + <p>“That’s what I wanted to know,” said the Dean.</p> + + <p>“You haven’t done it yet?”</p> + + <p>“No,” said Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>“Why don’t you?”</p> + + <p>“It seems taking such a liberty,” replied Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>The Dean laughed. “Well, I’m not going to do + it for you. My chief desire is to regularize the present + situation. I can’t have you two running about together + all day and every day. If you like to ask + Peggy, you have my permission and her mother’s.”</p> + + <p>“Thank you, Uncle Edward,” said Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>“Let us join the ladies,” said the Dean.</p> + + <p>In the drawing-room the Dean exchanged glances + with his wife. She saw that he had done as he had + been bidden. Marmaduke was not an ideal husband + <a class="pagenum" id="page23" title="23"> </a>for a brisk, pleasure-loving modern young woman. + But where was another husband to come from? + Peggy had banned the Church. Marmaduke was + wealthy, sound in health and free from vice. It was + obvious to maternal eyes that he was in love with + Peggy. According to the Dean, if he wasn’t, he + oughtn’t to be for ever at her heels. The young + woman herself seemed to take considerable pleasure + in his company. If she cared nothing for him, she + was acting in a reprehensible manner. So the Dean + had been deputed to sound Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>Half an hour later the young people were left alone. + First the Dean went to his study. Then Mrs. Conover + departed to write letters. Marmaduke advancing + across the room from the door which he had opened, + met Peggy’s mocking eyes as she stood on the hearthrug + with her hands behind her back. Doggie felt + very uncomfortable. Never had he said a word to + her in betrayal of his feelings. He had a vague idea + that propriety required a young man to get through + some wooing before asking a girl to marry him. To + ask first and woo afterwards seemed putting the cart + before the horse. But how to woo that remarkably + cool and collected young person standing there, passed + his wit.</p> + + <p>“Well,” she said, “the dear old birds seem very + fussy to-night. What’s the matter?” And as he + said nothing, but stood confused with his hands in his + pockets, she went on. “You, too, seem rather ruffled. + Look at your hair.”</p> + + <p>Doggie, turning to a mirror, perceived that an + agitated hand had disturbed the symmetry of his sleek + black hair, brushed without a parting away from the + forehead over his head. Hastily he smoothed down + the cockatoo-like crest.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page24" title="24"> </a>“I’ve been talking to your father, Peggy.”</p> + + <p>“Have you really?” she said with a laugh.</p> + + <p>Marmaduke summoned his courage.</p> + + <p>“He told me I might ask you to marry me,” he + said.</p> + + <p>“Do you want to?”</p> + + <p>“Of course I do,” he declared.</p> + + <p>“Then why not do it?”</p> + + <p>But before he could answer, she clapped her hands + on his shoulders, and shook him, and laughed out loud.</p> + + <p>“Oh, you dear silly old thing! What a way to + propose to a girl!”</p> + + <p>“I’ve never done such a thing before,” said Doggie, + as soon as he was released.</p> + + <p>She resumed her attitude on the hearthrug.</p> + + <p>“I’m in no great hurry to be married. Are you?”</p> + + <p>He said: “I don’t know. I’ve never thought of + it. Just whenever you like.”</p> + + <p>“All right,” she returned calmly. “Let it be a + year hence. Meanwhile, we can be engaged. It’ll + please the dear old birds. I know all the tabbies in + the town have been mewing about us. Now they + can mew about somebody else.”</p> + + <p>“That’s awfully good of you, Peggy,” said Marmaduke. + “I’ll go up to town to-morrow and get you + the jolliest ring you ever saw.”</p> + + <p>She sketched him a curtsy. “That’s one thing, + at any rate, I can trust you in—your taste in jewellery.”</p> + + <p>He moved nearer to her. “I suppose you know, + Peggy dear, I’ve been awfully fond of you for quite a + long time.”</p> + + <p>“The feeling is more or less reciprocated,” she + replied lightly. Then, “You can kiss me if you + like. I assure you it’s quite usual.”</p> + + <p>He kissed her somewhat shyly on the lips.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page25" title="25"> </a>She whispered: “I do think I care for you, old + thing.” Marmaduke replied sententiously: “You + have made me a very happy man.” Then they sat + down side by side on the sofa, and for all Peggy’s + mocking audacity, they could find nothing in particular + to say to each other.</p> + + <p>“Let us play patience,” she said at last.</p> + + <p>And when Mrs. Conover appeared awhile later, + she found them poring over the cards in a state of + unruffled calm. Peggy looked up, smiled, and nodded.</p> + + <p>“We’ve fixed it up, Mummy; but we’re not + going to be married for a year.”</p> + + <p>Doggie went home that evening in a tepid glow. + It contented him. He thought himself the luckiest + of mortals. A young man with more passion or + imagination might have deplored the lack of romance + in the betrothal. He might have desired on the part + of the maiden either more shyness, delicacy, and elusiveness, + or more resonant emotion. The finer tendrils + of his being might have shivered, ready to shrivel, as + at a touch of frost, in the cool ironical atmosphere + which the girl had created around her. But Doggie + was not such a young man. Such passions as heredity + had endowed him with had been drugged by training. + No tales of immortal love had ever fired his blood. + Once, somewhere abroad, the unprincipled McPhail + found him reading <em>Manon Lescaut</em>—he had bought + a cheap copy haphazard—and taking the delectable + volume out of his hands, asked him what he thought + of it.</p> + + <p>“It’s like reading about a lunatic,” replied the + bewildered Doggie. “Do such people as Des Grieux + exist?”</p> + + <p>“Ay, laddie,” replied McPhail, greatly relieved. + “Your acumen has pierced to the root of the matter. + <a class="pagenum" id="page26" title="26"> </a>They do exist, but nowadays we put them into asylums. + We must excuse the author for living in the psychological + obscurity of the eighteenth century. It’s just + a silly, rotten book.”</p> + + <p>“I’m glad you’re of the same opinion as myself,” + said Doggie, and thought no more of the absurd but + deathless pair of lovers. The unprincipled McPhail, + not without pawky humour, immediately gave him + <em>Paul et Virginie</em>, which Doggie, after reading it, + thought the truest and most beautiful story in the + world. Even in later years, when his intelligence + had ripened and his sphere of reading expanded, he + looked upon the passion of a Romeo or an Othello + as a conventional peg on which the poet hung his + imagery, but having no more relation to real life as + it is lived by human beings than the blood-lust of the + half-man, half-bull Minotaur, or the uncomfortable + riding conversation of the Valkyrie.</p> + + <p>So Doggie Trevor went home perfectly contented + with himself, with Peggy Conover, with his Uncle + and Aunt, of whom hitherto he had been just a little + bit afraid, with Fortune, with Fate, with his house, + with his peacock and ivory room, with a great clump + of typescript and a mass of coloured proof-prints, + which represented a third of his projected history of + wall-papers, with his feather-bed, with Goliath, his + almost microscopic Belgian griffon, with a set of + Nile-green silk underwear that had just come from + his outfitters in London, with his new Rolls-Royce + car and his new chauffeur Briggins (parenthetically + it may be remarked that a seven-hour excursion in + this vehicle, youth in the back seat and Briggins at the + helm, all ordained by Peggy, had been the final cause + of the evening’s explanations), with the starry heavens + above, with the well-ordered earth beneath them, + <a class="pagenum" id="page27" title="27"> </a>and with all human beings on the earth, including + Germans, Turks, Infidels, and Hereticks—all save + one: and that, as he learned from a letter delivered + by the last post, was a callous, heartless London manicurist + who, giving no reasons, regretted that she would + be unable to pay her usual weekly visit to Durdlebury + on the morrow. Of all days in the year: just when it + was essential that he should look his best!</p> + + <p>“What the deuce am I going to do?” he cried, + pitching the letter into the waste-paper basket.</p> + + <p>He sat down to the piano in the peacock and ivory + room and tried to play the nasty crumpled rose-leaf + of a manicurist out of his mind.</p> + + <p>Suddenly he remembered, with a kind of shock, + that he had pledged himself to go up to London the + next day to buy an engagement-ring. So after all + the manicurist’s defection did not matter. All was + again well with the world.</p> + + <p>Then he went to bed and slept the sleep of the just + and perfect man living the just and perfect life in a + just and perfect universe.</p> + + <p>And the date of this happening was the fifteenth + day of July in the year of grace one thousand nine + hundred and fourteen.</p> +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_III"><a class="pagenum" id="page28" title="28"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER III</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> shadow cast by the great apse of the cathedral + slanted over the end of the Deanery + garden, leaving the house in the blaze of the afternoon + sun, and divided the old red-brick wall into a vivid + contrast of tones. The peace of centuries brooded + over the place. No outside convulsions could ever + cause a flutter of her calm wings. As it was thirty + years ago, when the Dean first came to Durdlebury, + as it was three hundred, six hundred years ago, so it + was now; and so it would be hundreds of years + hence as long as that majestic pile housing the Spirit + of God should last.</p> + + <p>Thus thought, thus, in some such words, proclaimed + the Dean, sitting in the shade, with his hands clasped + behind his head. Tea was over. Mrs. Conover, + thin and faded, still sat by the little table, wondering + whether she might now blow out the lamp beneath + the silver kettle. Sir Archibald Bruce, a neighbouring + landowner, and his wife had come, bringing their + daughter Dorothy to play tennis. The game had + already started on the court some little distance off—the + players being Dorothy, Peggy and a couple of + athletic, flannel-clad parsons. Marmaduke Trevor + reposed on a chair under the lee of Lady Bruce. + He looked very cool and spick and span in a grey + cashmere suit, grey shirt, socks and tie, and grey + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">suède</em> shoes. He had a weak, good-looking little + face and a little black moustache turned up at the + <a class="pagenum" id="page29" title="29"> </a>ends. He was discoursing to his neighbour on + Palestrina.</p> + + <p>The Dean’s proclamation had been elicited by some + remark of Sir Archibald.</p> + + <p>“I wonder how you have stuck it for so long,” + said the latter. He had been a soldier in his youth + and an explorer, and had shot big game.</p> + + <p>“I haven’t your genius, my dear Bruce, for making + myself uncomfortable,” replied the Dean.</p> + + <p>“You were energetic enough when you first came + here,” said Sir Archibald. “We all thought you a + desperate fellow who was going to rebuild the cathedral, + turn the Close into industrial dwellings, and + generally play the deuce.”</p> + + <p>The Dean sighed pleasantly. He had snowy + hair and a genial, florid, clean-shaven face.</p> + + <p>“I was appointed very young—six-and-thirty—and + I thought I could fight against the centuries. + As the years went on I found I couldn’t. The + grey changelessness of things got hold of me, incorporated + me into them. When I die—for I hope + I shan’t have to resign through doddering senility—my + body will be buried there”—he jerked his head + slightly towards the cathedral—“and my dust will + become part and parcel of the fabric—like that of many + of my predecessors.”</p> + + <p>“That’s all very well,” said Sir Archibald, “but + they ought to have caught you before this petrification + set in, and made you a bishop.”</p> + + <p>It was somewhat of an old argument, for the two + were intimates. The Dean smiled and shook his head.</p> + + <p>“You know I declined——”</p> + + <p>“After you had become petrified.”</p> + + <p>“Perhaps so. It is not a place where ambitions + can attain a riotous growth.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page30" title="30"> </a>“I call it a rotten place,” said the elderly worldling. + “I wouldn’t live in it myself for twenty thousand a year.”</p> + + <p>“Lots like you said the same in crusading times—Sir + Guy de Chevenix, for instance, who was the + Lord, perhaps, of your very Manor, and an amazing + fire-eater—but—see the gentle irony of it—there his + bones lie, at peace for ever, in the rotten place, with + his effigy over them cross-legged and his dog at his + feet, and his wife by his side. I think he must sometimes + look out of Heaven’s gate down on the cathedral + and feel glad, grateful—perhaps a bit wistful—if the + attribution of wistfulness, which implies regret, to a + spirit in Paradise doesn’t savour of heresy——”</p> + + <p>“I’m going to be cremated,” interrupted Sir + Archibald, twirling his white moustache.</p> + + <p>The Dean smiled and did not take up the cue. + The talk died. It was a drowsy day. The Dean + went off into a little reverie. Perhaps his old friend’s + reproach was just. Dean of a great cathedral at + thirty-six, he had the world of dioceses at his feet. + Had he used to the full the brilliant talents with + which he started? He had been a good Dean, + a capable, business-like Dean. There was not a + stone of the cathedral that he did not know and cherish. + Under his care the stability of every part of the precious + fabric had been assured for a hundred years. Its + financial position, desperate on his appointment, + was now sound. He had come into a scene of petty + discords and jealousies; for many years there had + been a no more united chapter in any cathedral close + in England. As an administrator he had been a + success. The devotion of his life to the cathedral + had its roots deep in spiritual things. For the greater + glory of God had the vast edifice been erected, and + for the greater glory of God had he, its guardian, + <a class="pagenum" id="page31" title="31"> </a>reverently seen to its preservation and perfect appointment. + Would he have served God better by pursuing + the ambitions of youth? He could have had his + bishopric; but he knew that the choice lay between + him and Chanways, a flaming spirit, eager for power, + who hadn’t the sacred charge of a cathedral, and he + declined. And now Chanways was a force in the + Church and the country, and was making things hum. + If he, Conover, after fifteen years of Durdlebury, + had accepted, he would have lost the power to make + things hum. He would have made a very ordinary, + painstaking bishop, and his successor at Durdlebury + might possibly have regarded that time-worn wonder + of spiritual beauty merely as a stepping-stone to higher + sacerdotal things. Such a man, he considered, having + once come under the holy glamour of the cathedral, + would have been guilty of the Unforgivable Sin. + He had therefore saved two unfortunate situations.</p> + + <p>“You are quite an intelligent man, Bruce,” he + said, with a sudden whimsicality, “but I don’t think + you would ever understand.”</p> + + <p>The set of tennis being over, Peggy, flushed and + triumphant, rushed into the party in the shade.</p> + + <p>“Mr. Petherbridge and I have won—six—three,” + she announced. The old gentlemen smiled and + murmured their congratulations. She swung to + the tea-table some paces away, and plucked Marmaduke + by the sleeve, interrupting him in the middle + of an argument. He rose politely.</p> + + <p>“Come and play.”</p> + + <p>“My dear,” he said, “I’m such a duffer at games.”</p> + + <p>“Never mind; you’ll learn in time.”</p> + + <p>He drew out a grey silk handkerchief as if ready + to perspire at the first thought of it. “Tennis makes + one so dreadfully hot,” said he.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page32" title="32"> </a>Peggy tapped the point of her foot irritably, but + she laughed as she turned to Lady Bruce.</p> + + <p>“What’s the good of being engaged to a man if + he can’t play tennis with you?”</p> + + <p>“There are other things in life besides tennis, + my dear,” replied Lady Bruce.</p> + + <p>The girl flushed, but being aware that a pert answer + turneth away pleasant invitations, said nothing. She + nodded and went off to her game, and informing Mr. + Petherbridge that Lady Bruce was a platitudinous + old tabby, flirted with him up to the nice limits of + his parsonical dignity. But Marmaduke did not mind.</p> + + <p>“Games are childish and somewhat barbaric. + Don’t you think so, Lady Bruce?”</p> + + <p>“Most young people seem fond of them,” replied + the lady. “Exercise keeps them in health.”</p> + + <p>“It all depends,” he argued. “Often they get + exceedingly hot, then they sit about and catch their + death of cold.”</p> + + <p>“That’s very true,” said Lady Bruce. “It’s + what I’m always telling Sir Archibald about golf. + Only last week he caught a severe chill in that very + way. I had to rub his chest with camphorated oil.”</p> + + <p>“Just as my poor dear mother used to do to me,” + said Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>There followed a conversation on ailments and + their treatment, in which Mrs. Conover joined. + Marmaduke was quite happy. He knew that the + two elderly ladies admired the soundness of his views + and talked to him as to one of themselves.</p> + + <p>“I’m sure, my dear Marmaduke, you’re very wise + to take care of yourself,” said Lady Bruce, “especially + now, when you have the responsibilities of married + life before you.”</p> + + <p>Marmaduke curled himself up comfortably in his + <a class="pagenum" id="page33" title="33"> </a>chair. If he had been a cat, he would have purred. + The old butler, grown as grey in the service of the + Deanery as the cathedral itself—he had been page + and footman to Dr. Conover’s predecessor—removed + the tea-things and brought out a tray of glasses and + lemonade with ice clinking refreshingly against the + sides of the jug. When the game was over, the players + came and drank and sat about the lawn. The shadow + of the apse had spread over the garden to the steps + of the porch. Anyone looking over the garden wall + would have beheld a scene typical of the heart of + England—a scene of peace, ease and perfectly ordered + comfort. The two well-built young men, one a + minor canon, the other a curate, lounging in their + flannels, clever-faced, honest-eyed, could have been + bred nowhere but in English public schools and at + Oxford or Cambridge. The two elderly ladies were + of the fine flower of provincial England; the two old + men, so different outwardly, one burly, florid, exquisitely + ecclesiastical, the other thin, nervous, soldierly, + each was an expression of high English tradition. + The two young girls, unerringly correct and dainty, + for all their modern abandonment of attitude, pretty, + flushed of cheek, frank of glance, were two of a + hundred thousand flowers of girlhood that could have + been picked that afternoon in lazy English gardens. + And Marmaduke’s impeccable grey costume struck a + harmonizing English note of Bond Street and the + Burlington Arcade. The scent of the roses massed in + delicate splendour against the wall, and breathing now + that the cool shade had fallen on them, crept through + the still air to the flying buttresses and the window + mullions and traceries and the pinnacles of the great + English cathedral. And in the midst of the shaven + lawn gleamed the old cut-glass jug on its silver tray.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page34" title="34"> </a>Some one did look over the wall and survey the + scene: a man, apparently supporting himself with + tense, straightened arms on the coping; a man with + a lean, bronzed, clean-shaven face, wearing an old + soft felt hat at a swaggering angle; a man with a smile + on his face and a humorous twinkle in his eyes. By + chance he had leisure to survey the scene for some time + unobserved. At last he shouted:</p> + + <p>“Hello! Have none of you ever moved for the + last ten years?”</p> + + <p>At the summons every one was startled. The + young men scrambled to their feet. The Dean rose + and glared at the intruder, who sprang over the wall, + recklessly broke through the rose-bushes and advanced + with outstretched hand to meet him.</p> + + <p>“Hello, Uncle Edward!”</p> + + <p>“Goodness gracious me!” cried the Dean. “It’s + Oliver!”</p> + + <p>“Right first time,” said the young man, gripping + him by the hand. “You’re not looking a day older. + And Aunt Sophia——” He strode up to Mrs. Conover + and kissed her. “Do you know,” he went on, + holding her at arm’s length and looking round at + the astonished company, “the last time I saw you + all you were doing just the same! I peeped over the + wall just before I went away, just such a summer + afternoon as this, and you were all sitting round + drinking the same old lemonade out of the same + old jug—and, Lady Bruce, you were here, and you, + Sir Archibald”—he shook hands with them rapidly. + “You haven’t changed a bit. And you—good Lord! + Is this Peggy?” He put his hand on the Dean’s + shoulder and pointed at the girl.</p> + + <p>“That’s Peggy,” said the Dean.</p> + + <p>“You’re the only thing that’s grown. I used to + <a class="pagenum" id="page35" title="35"> </a>gallop with you on my shoulders all round the lawn. + I suppose you remember? How do you do?”</p> + + <p>And without waiting for an answer he kissed her + soundly. It was all done with whirlwind suddenness. + The tempestuous young man had scattered every one’s + wits. All stared at him. Releasing Peggy——</p> + + <p>“My holy aunt!” he cried, “there’s another of + ’em. It’s Doggie! You were in the old picture, + and I’m blessed if you weren’t wearing the same + beautiful grey suit. How do, Doggie?”</p> + + <p>He gripped Doggie’s hand. Doggie’s lips grew + white.</p> + + <p>“I’m glad to welcome you back, Oliver,” he said. + “But I would have you to know that my name is + Marmaduke.”</p> + + <p>“Sooner be called Doggie myself, old chap,” said + Oliver.</p> + + <p>He stepped back, smiling at them all—a handsome + devil-may-care fellow, tall, tough and supple, his hands + in the pockets of a sun-stained double-breasted blue + jacket.</p> + + <p>“We’re indeed glad to see you, my dear boy,” + said the Dean, recovering equanimity; “but what + have you been doing all this time? And where on + earth have you come from?”</p> + + <p>“I’ve just come from the South Seas. Arrived in + London last evening. This morning I thought I’d + come and look you up.”</p> + + <p>“But if you had let us know you were coming, + we should have met you at the station with the car. + Where’s your luggage?”</p> + + <p>He jerked a hand. “In the road. My man’s + sitting on it. Oh, don’t worry about him,” he cried + airily to the protesting Dean. “He’s well trained. + He’ll go on sitting on it all night.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page36" title="36"> </a>“You’ve brought a man—a valet?” asked Peggy.</p> + + <p>“It seems so.”</p> + + <p>“Then you must be getting on.”</p> + + <p>“I don’t think he turns you out very well,” said + Doggie.</p> + + <p>“You must really let one of the servants see about + your things, Oliver,” said Mrs. Conover, moving + towards the porch. “What will people say?”</p> + + <p>He strode after her, and kissed her. “Oh, you + dear old Durdlebury Aunt! Now I know I’m in + England again. I haven’t heard those words for + years!”</p> + + <p>Mrs. Conover’s hospitable intentions were anticipated + by the old butler, who advanced to meet them + with the news that Sir Archibald’s car had been brought + round. As soon as he recognized Oliver he started + back, mouth agape.</p> + + <p>“Yes, it’s me all right, Burford,” laughed Oliver. + “How did I get here? I dropped from the moon.”</p> + + <p>He shook hands with Burford, of whose life he + had been the plague during his childhood, proclaimed + him as hardy and unchanging as a gargoyle, and + instructed him where to find man and luggage.</p> + + <p>The Bruces and the two clerical tennis players + departed. Marmaduke was for taking his leave too. + All his old loathing of Oliver had suddenly returned. + His cousin stood for everything he detested—swagger, + arrogance, self-assurance. He hated the shabby + rakishness of his attire, the self-assertive aquiline beak + of a nose which he had inherited from his father, the + Rector. He dreaded his aggressive masculinity. He + had come back with the same insulting speech on his + lips. His finger-nails were dreadful. Marmaduke + desired as little as possible of his odious company. + But his Aunt Sophia cried out:</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page37" title="37"> </a>“You’ll surely dine with us to-night, Marmaduke, + to celebrate Oliver’s return?”</p> + + <p>And Oliver chimed in, “Do! And don’t worry + about changing,” as Doggie began to murmur excuses, + “I can’t. I’ve no evening togs. My old ones + fell to bits when I was trying to put them on, on + board the steamer, and I had to chuck ’em overboard. + They turned up a shark, who went for + ’em. So don’t you worry, Doggie, old chap. You + look as pretty as paint as you are. Doesn’t he, + Peggy?”</p> + + <p>Peggy, with a slight flush on her cheek, came to the + rescue and linked her arm in Marmaduke’s.</p> + + <p>“You haven’t had time to learn everything yet, + Oliver; but I think you ought to know that we are + engaged.”</p> + + <p>“Holy Gee! Is that so? My compliments.” + He swept them a low bow. “God bless you, my + children!”</p> + + <p>“Of course he’ll stay to dinner,” said Peggy; and + she looked at Oliver as who should say, “Touch him + at your peril: he belongs to me.”</p> + + <p>So Doggie had to yield. Mrs. Conover went into + the house to arrange for Oliver’s comfort, and the others + strolled round the garden.</p> + + <p>“Well, my boy,” said the Dean, “so you’re back + in the old country?”</p> + + <p>“Turned up again like a bad penny.”</p> + + <p>The Dean’s kindly face clouded. “I hope you’ll + soon be able to find something to do.”</p> + + <p>“It’s money I want, not work,” said Oliver.</p> + + <p>“Ah!” said the Dean, in a tone so thoughtful + as just to suggest a lack of sympathy.</p> + + <p>Oliver looked over his shoulder—the Dean and + himself were preceding Marmaduke and Peggy on the + <a class="pagenum" id="page38" title="38"> </a>trim gravel path. “Do you care to lend me a few + thousands, Doggie?”</p> + + <p>“Certainly not,” replied Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>“There’s family affection for you, Uncle Edward! + I’ve come half-way round the earth to see him, and—say, + will you lend me a fiver?”</p> + + <p>“If you need it,” said Marmaduke in a dignified + way, “I shall be very happy to advance you five + pounds.”</p> + + <p>Oliver brought the little party to a halt and burst + into laughter.</p> + + <p>“I believe you good people think I’ve come back + broke to the world. The black sheep returned like + a wolf to the fold. Only Peggy drew a correct inference + from the valet—wait till you see him! As + Peggy said, I’ve been getting on.” He laid a light + hand on the Dean’s shoulder. “While all you + folks in Durdlebury, especially my dear Doggie, for + the last ten years have been durdling, I’ve been doing. + I’ve not come all this way to tap relations for five-pound + notes. I’m swaggering into the City of London + for Capital—with a great big C.”</p> + + <p>Marmaduke twirled his little moustache. “You’ve + taken to company promoting,” he remarked acidly.</p> + + <p>“I have. And a damn—I beg your pardon, Uncle + Edward—we poor Pacific Islanders lisp in damns + for want of deans to hold us up—and a jolly good + company too. We—that’s I and another man—that’s + all the company as yet—two’s company, you + know—own a trading fleet.”</p> + + <p>“You own ships?” cried Peggy.</p> + + <p>“Rather. Own ’em, sail ’em, navigate ’em, + stoke ’em, clean out the boilers, sit on the safety valves + when we want to make speed, do every old thing——”</p> + + <p>“And what do you trade in?” asked the Dean.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page39" title="39"> </a>“Copra, bêche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl——”</p> + + <p>“Mother-of-pearl! How awfully romantic!” + cried Peggy.</p> + + <p>“We’ve got a fishery. At any rate, the concession. + To work it properly we require capital. That’s + why I’m here—to turn the concern into a limited + company.”</p> + + <p>“And where is this wonderful place?” asked the + Dean.</p> + + <p>“Huaheine.”</p> + + <p>“What a beautiful word!”</p> + + <p>“Isn’t it?” said Oliver. “Like the sigh of a + girl in her sleep.”</p> + + <p>The old Dean shot a swift glance at his nephew; + then took his arm and walked on, and looked at the + vast mass of the cathedral and at the quiet English + garden in its evening shadow.</p> + + <p>“Copra, bêche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl, Huaheine,” + he murmured. “And these strange foreign + things are the commonplaces of your life!”</p> + + <p>Peggy and Marmaduke lagged behind a little. She + pressed his arm.</p> + + <p>“I’m so glad you’re staying for dinner. I shouldn’t + like to think you were running away from him.”</p> + + <p>“I was only afraid of losing my temper and making + a scene,” replied Doggie with dignity.</p> + + <p>“His manners are odious,” said Peggy. “You + leave him to me.”</p> + + <p>Suddenly the Dean, taking a turn that brought him + into view of the porch, stopped short.</p> + + <p>“Goodness gracious!” he cried. “Who in the + world is that?”</p> + + <p>He pointed to a curious object slouching across the + lawn; a short hirsute man wearing a sailor’s jersey + and smoking a stump of a blackened pipe. His + <a class="pagenum" id="page40" title="40"> </a>tousled head was bare; he had very long arms and + great powerful hands protruded at the end of long + sinewy wrists from inadequate sleeves. A pair of bright + eyes shone out of his dark shaggy face, like a Dandy + Dinmont’s. His nose was large and red. He rolled as + he walked. Such a sight had never been seen before + in the Deanery garden.</p> + + <p>“That’s my man. Peggy’s valet,” said Oliver + airily. “His name is Chipmunk. A beauty, isn’t + he?”</p> + + <p>“Like master, like man,” murmured Doggie.</p> + + <p>Oliver’s quick ears caught the words intended + only for Peggy. He smiled brightly.</p> + + <p>“If you knew what a compliment you were paying + me, Doggie, you wouldn’t have said such a thing.”</p> + + <p>The man seeing the company stare at him, halted, + took his pipe out of his mouth, and scratched his head.</p> + + <p>“But—er—forgive me, my dear Oliver,” said the + Dean. “No doubt he is an excellent fellow—but + don’t you think he might smoke his pipe somewhere + else?”</p> + + <p>“Of course he might,” said Oliver. “And he + jolly well shall.” He put his hand to his mouth, sea-fashion—they + were about thirty yards apart—and + shouted: “Here, you! What the eternal blazes + are you doing here?”</p> + + <p>“Please don’t hurt the poor man’s feelings,” said + the kindly Dean.</p> + + <p>Oliver turned a blank look on his Uncle. “His + what? Ain’t got any. Not that kind of feelings.” + He proceeded: “Now then, look lively! Clear out! + Skidoo!”</p> + + <p>The valet touched his forehead in salute, and—“Where + am I to go to, Cap’en?”</p> + + <p>“Go to——”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page41" title="41"> </a>Oliver checked himself in time, and turned to the + Dean.</p> + + <p>“Where shall I tell him to go?” he asked sweetly.</p> + + <p>“The kitchen garden would be the best place,” + replied the Dean.</p> + + <p>“I think I’d better go and fix him up myself,” + said Oliver. “A little conversation in his own language + might be beneficial.”</p> + + <p>“But isn’t he English?” asked Peggy.</p> + + <p>“Born and bred in Wapping,” said Oliver.</p> + + <p>He marched off across the lawn; and, could they + have heard it, the friendly talk that he had with Chipmunk + would have made the Saint and the Divines, + and even the Crusader, Sir Guy de Chevenix, who + were buried in the cathedral, turn in their tombs.</p> + + <p>Doggie, watching the disappearing Chipmunk, + Oliver’s knuckles in his neck, said:</p> + + <p>“I think it monstrous of Oliver to bring such a + disreputable creature down here.”</p> + + <p>Said the Dean: “At any rate, it brings a certain + excitement into our quiet surroundings.”</p> + + <p>“They must be having the time of their lives in + the Servants’ Hall,” said Peggy.</p> +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_IV"><a class="pagenum" id="page42" title="42"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER IV</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">After</span> breakfast the next morning Doggie, + attired in a green shot-silk dressing-gown, + entered his own particular room and sat down to think. + In its way it was a very beautiful room—high, spacious, + well-proportioned, facing south-east. The wall-paper, + which he had designed himself, was ivory-white with + veinings of peacock-blue. Into the ivory-silk curtains + were woven peacocks in full pride. The cushions + were ivory and peacock-blue. The chairs, the + writing-table, the couch, the bookcases, were pure + Sheraton and Hepplewhite. Vellum-bound books + filled the cases—Doggie was very particular about his + bindings. Delicate water-colours alone adorned the + walls. On his neatly arranged writing-table lay an + ivory set—inkstand, pen-tray, blotter and calendar. + Bits of old embroidery harmonizing with the peacock + shades were spread here and there. A pretty collection + of eighteenth-century Italian ivory statuettes were + grouped about the room. A spinet, inlaid with ebony + and ivory, formed a centre for the arrangement of + many other musical instruments—a viol, mandolins + gay with ribbons, a theorbo, flutes and clarinets. + Through the curtains, draped across an alcove, could + be guessed the modern monstrosity of a grand piano. + One tall closed cabinet was devoted to his collection + of wall-papers. Another, open, to a collection of little + dogs in china, porcelain, faïence; thousands of them; + he got them through dealers from all over the world. + <a class="pagenum" id="page43" title="43"> </a>He had the finest collection in existence, and maintained + a friendly and learned correspondence with the other + collector—an elderly, disillusioned Russian prince, who + lived somewhere near Nijni-Novgorod. On the + spinet and on the writing-table were great bowls of + golden <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rayon d’or</em> roses.</p> + + <p>Doggie sat down to think. An unwonted frown + creased his brow. Several problems distracted him. + The morning sun streaming into the room disclosed, + beyond doubt, discolorations, stains and streaks on the + wall-paper. It would have to be renewed. Already + he had decided to design something to take its place. + But last night Peggy had declared her intention to + turn this abode of bachelor comfort into the drawing-room, + and to hand over to his personal use some other + apartment, possibly the present drawing-room, which + received all the blaze and glare of the afternoon sun. + What should he do? Live in the sordidness of discoloured + wall-paper for another year, or go through + the anxiety of artistic effort and manufacturers’ stupidity + and delay, to say nothing of the expense, only + to have the whole thing scrapped before the wedding? + Doggie had a foretaste of the dilemmas of matrimony. + He had a gnawing suspicion that the trim and perfect + life was difficult of attainment.</p> + + <p>Then, meandering through this wilderness of + dubiety, ran thoughts of Oliver. Every one seemed + to have gone crazy over him. Uncle Edward and + Aunt Sophia had hung on his lips while he lied unblushingly + about his adventures. Even Peggy had listened + open-eyed and open-mouthed when he had told a tale + of shipwreck in the South Seas: how the schooner + had been caught in some beastly wind and the masts + had been torn out and the rudder carried away, and how + it had struck a reef, and how something had hit him + <a class="pagenum" id="page44" title="44"> </a>on the head, and he knew no more till he woke up + on a beach and found that the unspeakable Chipmunk + had swum with him for a week—or whatever the time + was—until they got to land. If hulking, brainless + dolts like Oliver, thought Doggie, like to fool around + in schooners and typhoons, they must take the consequences. + There was nothing to brag about. The + higher man was the intellectual, the æsthetic, the artistic + being. What did Oliver know of Lydian modes or + Louis Treize decoration or Astec clay dogs? Nothing. + He couldn’t even keep his socks from slopping about + over his shoes. And there was Peggy all over the + fellow, although before dinner she had said she couldn’t + bear the sight of him. Doggie was perturbed. On + bidding him good night, she had kissed him in the + most perfunctory manner—merely the cousinly peck of + a dozen years ago—and had given no thought to the + fact that he was driving home in an open car without + an overcoat. He had felt distinctly chilly on his + arrival, and had taken a dose of ammoniated quinine. + Was Peggy’s indifference a sign that she had ceased + to care for him? That she was attracted by the + buccaneering Oliver?</p> + + <p>Now suppose the engagement was broken off, he + would be free to do as he chose with the redecoration + of the room. But suppose, as he sincerely and devoutly + hoped, it wasn’t? Dilemma on dilemma. Added + to all this, Goliath, the miniature Belgian griffon, + having probably overeaten himself, had complicated + pains inside, and the callous vet. could or would not + come round till the evening. In the meantime, + Goliath might die.</p> + + <p>He was at this point of his reflections, when to his + horror he heard a familiar voice outside the door.</p> + + <p>“All right, Peddle. Don’t worry. I’ll show + <a class="pagenum" id="page45" title="45"> </a>myself in. Look after that man of mine. Quite + easy. Give him some beer in a bucket and leave him + to it.”</p> + + <p>Then the door burst open and Oliver, pipe in + mouth and hat on one side, came into the room.</p> + + <p>“Hallo, Doggie! Thought I’d look you up. + Hope I’m not disturbing you.”</p> + + <p>“Not at all,” said Doggie. “Do sit down.”</p> + + <p>But Oliver walked about and looked at things.</p> + + <p>“I like your water-colours. Did you collect + them yourself?”</p> + + <p>“Yes.”</p> + + <p>“I congratulate you on your taste. This is a + beauty. Who is it by?”</p> + + <p>The appreciation brought Doggie at once to his side. + Oliver, the connoisseur, was showing himself in a new + and agreeable light. Doggie took him delightedly + round the pictures, expounding their merits and their + little histories. He found that Oliver, although + unlearned, had a true sense of light and colour and + tone. He was just beginning to like him, when the + tactless fellow, stopping before the collection of little + dogs, spoiled everything.</p> + + <p>“My holy aunt!” he cried—an objurgation which + Doggie had abhorred from boyhood—and he doubled + with laughter in his horrid schoolboy fashion—“My + dear Doggie—is that your family? How many + litters?”</p> + + <p>“It’s the finest collection of the kind in the world,” + replied Doggie stiffly, “and is worth several thousand + pounds.”</p> + + <p>Oliver heaved himself into a chair—that was + Doggie’s impression of his method of sitting down—a + Sheraton chair with delicate arms and legs.</p> + + <p>“Forgive me,” he said, “but you’re such a funny + <a class="pagenum" id="page46" title="46"> </a>devil.”—Doggie gaped. The conception of himself + as a funny devil was new.—“Pictures and music I + can understand. But what the deuce is the point of + these dam little dogs?”</p> + + <p>But Doggie was hurt. “It would be useless to + try to explain,” said he.</p> + + <p>Oliver took off his hat and sent it skimming on to + the couch.</p> + + <p>“Look here, old chap,” he said, “I seem to have + put my foot into it again. I didn’t mean to, really. + Peggy gave me hell this morning for not treating + you as a man and a brother, and I came round to try + to put things right.”</p> + + <p>“It’s very considerate of Peggy, I’m sure,” said + Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>“Now look here, old Doggie——”</p> + + <p>“I told you when we first met yesterday that I + vehemently object to being called Doggie.”</p> + + <p>“But why?” asked Oliver. “I’ve made inquiries, + and find that all your pals——”</p> + + <p>“I haven’t any pals, as you call them.”</p> + + <p>“Well, all our male contemporaries in the place + who have the honour of your acquaintance—they all + call you Doggie, and you don’t seem to mind.”</p> + + <p>“I do mind,” replied Marmaduke angrily, “but + as I avoid their company as much as possible, it doesn’t + very much matter.”</p> + + <p>Oliver stretched out his legs and put his hands + behind his back—then wriggled to his feet. “What + a beast of a chair! Anyhow,” he went on, puffing + at his pipe, “don’t let us quarrel. I’ll call you Marmaduke, + if you like, when I can remember—it’s a + beast of a name—like the chair. I’m a rough sort of + chap. I’ve had ten years’ pretty rough training. I’ve + slept on boards. I’ve slept in the open without a cent + <a class="pagenum" id="page47" title="47"> </a>to hire a board. I’ve gone cold and I’ve gone hungry, + and men have knocked me about and I’ve knocked + men about—and I’ve lost the Durdlebury sense of + social values. In the wilds if a man once gets the + name, say, of Duck-Eyed Joe, it sticks to him, and he + accepts it and answers to it, and signs ‘Duck-Eyed + Joe’ on an IOU and honours the signature.”</p> + + <p>“But I’m not in the wilds,” said Marmaduke, + “and haven’t the slightest intention of ever leading + the unnatural and frightful life you describe. So + what you say doesn’t apply to me.”</p> + + <p>“Quite so,” replied Oliver. “That wasn’t the + moral of my discourse. The habit of mind engendered + in the wilds applies to me. Just as I could never think + of Duck-Eyed Joe as George Wilkinson, so you, + James Marmaduke Trevor, will live imperishably in + my mind as Doggie. I was making a sort of apology, + old chap, for my habit of mind.”</p> + + <p>“If it is an apology——” said Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>Oliver, laughing, clapped him boisterously on the + shoulder. “Oh, you solemn comic cuss!” He + strode to a rose-bowl and knocked the ashes of his + pipe into the water—Doggie trembled lest he might + next squirt tobacco juice over the ivory curtains. + “You don’t give a fellow a chance. Look here, tell + me, as man to man, what are you going to do with + your life? I don’t mean it in the high-brow sense + of people who live in unsuccessful plays and garden + cities, but in the ordinary common-sense way of the + world. Here you are, young, strong, educated, + intelligent——”</p> + + <p>“I’m not strong,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Oh, shucks! A month’s exercise would make + you as strong as a mule. Here you are—what the + blazes are you going to do with yourself?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page48" title="48"> </a>“I don’t admit that you have any right to question + me,” said Doggie, lighting a cigarette.</p> + + <p>“Peggy has given it to me. We had a heart to + heart talk this morning, I assure you. She called me + a swaggering, hectoring barbarian. So I told her + what I’d do. I said I’d come here and squeak like a + little mouse and eat out of your hand. I also said I’d + take you out with me to the Islands and give you a + taste for fresh air and salt water and exercise. I’ll + teach you how to sail a schooner and how to go about + barefoot and swab decks. It’s a life for a man out there, + I tell you. If you’ve nothing better to do than living + here snug like a flea on a dog’s back, until you get + married, you’d better come.”</p> + + <p>Doggie smiled pityingly, but said politely:</p> + + <p>“Your offer is very kind, Oliver; but I don’t + think that kind of life would suit me.”</p> + + <p>“Oh yes it would,” said Oliver. “It would make + you healthy, wealthy—if you took a fancy to put + some money into the pearl fishery—and wise. I’d + show you the world, make a man of you, for Peggy’s + sake, and teach you how men talk to one another in + a gale of wind.”</p> + + <p>The door opened and Peddle appeared.</p> + + <p>“I beg your pardon, Mr. Oliver—but your + man——”</p> + + <p>“Yes? What about him? Is he misbehaving + himself? Kissing the maids?”</p> + + <p>“No, sir,” said Peddle—“but none of them can + get on with their work. He has drunk two quart + jugs of beer and wants a third.”</p> + + <p>“Well, give it to him.”</p> + + <p>“I shouldn’t like to see the man intoxicated, sir,” + said Peddle.</p> + + <p>“You couldn’t. No one has or ever will.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page49" title="49"> </a>“He is also standing on his head, sir, in the middle + of the kitchen table.”</p> + + <p>“It’s his great parlour-trick. You just try to do + it, Peddle—especially after two quarts of beer. He’s + showing his gratitude, poor chap—just like the juggler + of Notre-Dame in the story. And I’m sure everybody’s + enjoying themselves?”</p> + + <p>“The maids are nearly in hysterics, sir.”</p> + + <p>“But they’re quite happy?”</p> + + <p>“Too happy, sir.”</p> + + <p>“Lord!” cried Oliver, “what a lot of stuffy owls + you are! What do you want me to do? What + would you like me to do, Doggie? It’s your house.”</p> + + <p>“I don’t know,” said Doggie. “I’ve had nothing + to do with such people. Perhaps you might go and + speak to him.”</p> + + <p>“No, I won’t do that. I tell you what, Peddle,” + said Oliver brightly. “You lure him out into the + stable yard with a great hunk of pie—he adores pie—and + tell him to sit there and eat it till I come. Tell + him I said so.”</p> + + <p>“I’ll see what can be done, sir,” said Peddle.</p> + + <p>“I don’t mean to be inhospitable,” said Doggie, + after the butler had gone, “but why do you take + this extraordinary person about with you?”</p> + + <p>“I wanted him to see Durdlebury and Durdlebury + to see him. Do it good,” replied Oliver. “Now, + what about my proposition? Out there of course + you’ll be my guest. Put yourself in charge of Chipmunk + and me for eight months, and you’ll never + regret it. What Chipmunk doesn’t know about ships + and drink and hard living isn’t knowledge. We’ll + let you down easy—treat you kindly—word of + honour.”</p> + + <p>Doggie being a man of intelligence realized that + <a class="pagenum" id="page50" title="50"> </a>Oliver’s offer arose from a genuine desire to do him + some kind of service. But if a friendly bull out of the + fullness of its affection invited you to accompany + him to the meadow and eat grass, what could you do + but courteously decline the invitation? This is what + Doggie did. After a further attempt at persuasion, + Oliver grew impatient, and picking up his hat stuck it + on the side of his head. He was a simple-natured, + impulsive man. Peggy’s spirited attack had caused him + to realize that he had treated Doggie with unprovoked + rudeness; but then, Doggie was such a little worm. + Suddenly the great scheme for Doggie’s regeneration + had entered his head, and generously he had rushed to + begin to put it into execution. The pair were his + blood relations after all. He saw his way to doing + them a good turn. Peggy, with all her go—exemplified + by the manner in which she had gone for him—was + worth the trouble he proposed to take with Doggie. + It really was a handsome offer. Most fellows would + have jumped at the prospect of being shown round + the Islands with an old hand who knew the whole + thing backwards, from company promoting to beach-combing. + He had not expected such a point-blank, + bland refusal. It made him angry.</p> + + <p>“I’m really most obliged to you, Oliver,” said Doggie + finally. “But our ideals are so entirely different. + You’re primitive, you know. You seem to find your + happiness in defying the elements, whereas I find mine + in adopting the resources of civilization to circumvent + them.”</p> + + <p>He smiled, pleased with his little epigram.</p> + + <p>“Which means,” said Oliver, “that you’re afraid + to roughen your hands and spoil your complexion.”</p> + + <p>“If you like to put it that way—symbolically.”</p> + + <p>“Symbolically be hanged!” cried Oliver, losing + <a class="pagenum" id="page51" title="51"> </a>his temper. “You’re an effeminate little rotter, and + I’m through with you. Go on and wag your tail and + sit up and beg for biscuits——”</p> + + <p>“Stop!” shouted Doggie, white with sudden + anger which shook him from head to foot. He + marched to the door, his green silk dressing-gown + flapping round his legs, and threw it wide open. + “This is my house. I’m sorry to have to ask you + to get out of it.”</p> + + <p>Oliver looked intently for a few seconds into the + flaming little dark eyes. Then he said gravely:</p> + + <p>“I’m a beast to have said that. I take it all back. + Good-bye!”</p> + + <p>“Good day to you,” said Doggie; and when the + door was shut he went and threw himself, shaken, + on the couch, hating Oliver and all his works more + than ever. Go about barefoot and swab decks! + It was Bedlam madness. Besides being dangerous + to health, it would be excruciating discomfort. And + to be insulted for not grasping at such martyrdom. It + was intolerable.</p> + + <p>Doggie stayed away from the Deanery all that day. + On the morrow he heard, to his relief, that Oliver + had returned to London with the unedifying Chipmunk. + He took Peggy for a drive in the Rolls-Royce, + and told her of Oliver’s high-handed methods. She + sympathized. She said, however:</p> + + <p>“Oliver’s a rough diamond.”</p> + + <p>“He’s one of Nature’s non-gentlemen,” said + Doggie.</p> + + <p>She laughed and patted his arm. “Clever lad!” + she said.</p> + + <p>So Doggie’s wounded vanity was healed. He confided + to her some of his difficulties as to the peacock and + ivory room.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page52" title="52"> </a>“Bear with the old paper for my sake,” she said. + “It’s something you can do for me. In the meanwhile, + you and I can put our heads together and design + a topping scheme of decoration. It’s not too early + to start in right now, for it’ll take months and months + to get the house just as we want.”</p> + + <p>“You’re the best girl in the world,” said Doggie; + “and the way you understand me is simply wonderful.”</p> + + <p>“Dear old thing,” smiled Peggy; “you’re no + great conundrum.”</p> + + <p>Happiness once more settled on Doggie Trevor. + For the next two or three days he and Peggy tackled the + serious problem of the reorganization of Denby Hall. + Peggy had the large ideas of a limited though acute + brain, stimulated by social ambitions. When she became + mistress of Denby Hall, she intended to reverse + the invisible boundary that included it in Durdlebury + and excluded it from the County. It was to be + County—of the fine inner Arcanum of County—and + only Durdlebury by the grace of Peggy Trevor. + No “durdling,” as Oliver called it, for her. Denby + Hall was going to be the very latest thing of September, + 1915, when she proposed, the honeymoon concluded, + to take smart and startling possession. Lots + of Mrs. Trevor’s rotten old stuffy furniture would + have to go. Marmaduke would have to revolutionize + his habits. As she would have all kinds of jolly + people down to stay, additions must be made to the + house. Within a week after her engagement she had + devised all the improvements. Marmaduke’s room, + with a great bay thrown out, would be the drawing-room. + The present drawing-room, nucleus of a new + wing, would be a dancing-room, with parquet flooring; + when not used for tangos and the fashionable negroid + dances, it would be called the morning-room; beyond + <a class="pagenum" id="page53" title="53"> </a>that there would be a billiard-room. Above this first + floor there could easily be built a series of guest chambers. + As for Marmaduke’s library, or study, or den, + any old room would do. There were a couple of + bedrooms overlooking the stable yard which thrown + into one would do beautifully.</p> + + <p>With feminine tact she dangled these splendours + before Doggie’s infatuated eyes, instinctively choosing + the opportunity of his gratitude for soothing treatment. + Doggie telegraphed for Sir Owen Julius, R.A., Surveyor + to the Cathedral, the only architect of his acquaintance. + The great man sent his partner, plain John Fox, + who undertook to prepare a design.</p> + + <p>Mr. Fox came down to Durdlebury on the 28th + of July. There had been a lot of silly talk in the + newspapers about Austria and Serbia, to which Doggie + had given little heed. There was always trouble in + the Balkan States. Recently they had gone to war. + It had left Doggie quite cold. They were all “Merry + Widow,” irresponsible people. They dressed in + queer uniforms and picturesque costumes, and thought + themselves tremendously important, and were always + squabbling among themselves and would go on doing + it till the day of Doom. Now there was more fuss. + He had read in the <cite>Morning Post</cite> that Sir Edward + Grey had proposed a Conference of the Great Powers. + Only sensible thing to do, thought Doggie. He + dismissed the trivial matter from his mind. On + the morning of the 29th he learned that Austria had + declared war on Serbia. Still, what did it matter?</p> + + <p>Doggie had held aloof from politics. He regarded + them as somewhat vulgar. Conservative by caste, + he had once, when the opportunity was almost forced + on him, voted for the Conservative candidate of the + constituency. European politics on the grand scale + <a class="pagenum" id="page54" title="54"> </a>did not arouse his interest at all. England, save as + the wise Mentor, had nothing to do with them. Still, + if Russia fought, France would have to join her ally. + It was not till he went to the Deanery that he began + to contemplate the possibility of a general European + war. For the next day or two he read his newspapers + very carefully.</p> + + <p>On Saturday, the 1st of August, Oliver suddenly + reappeared, proposing to stay over the Bank Holiday. + He brought news and rumours of war from the great + city. He had found money very tight, Capital with + a big C impossible to obtain. Every one told him to + come back when the present European cloud had + blown over. In the opinion of the judicious, it would + not blow over. There was going to be war, and + England could not stay out of it. The Sunday morning + papers confirmed all he said. Germany had declared + war on Russia. France was involved. Would Great + Britain come in, or for ever lose her honour?</p> + + <p>That warm beautiful Sunday afternoon they sat + on the peaceful lawn under the shadow of the great + cathedral. Burford brought out the tea-tray and + Mrs. Conover poured out tea. Sir Archibald and + Lady Bruce and their daughter Dorothy were there. + Doggie, impeccable in dark purple. Nothing clouded + the centuries-old serenity of the place. Yet they asked + the question that was asked on every quiet lawn, + every little scrap of shaded garden throughout the land + that day: Would England go to war?</p> + + <p>And if she came in, as come in she must, what + would be the result? All had premonitions of strange + shifting of destinies. As it was yesterday so it was + to-day in that gracious shrine of immutability. But + every one knew in his heart that as it was to-day so + would it not be to-morrow. The very word “war” + <a class="pagenum" id="page55" title="55"> </a>seemed as out of place as the suggestion of Hell in + Paradise. Yet the throb of the War Drum came + over the broad land of France and over the sea and half + over England, and its echo fell upon the Deanery + garden, flung by the flying buttresses and piers and + towers of the grey cathedral.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">On the morning of Wednesday, the 5th of August, + it thundered all over the Close. The ultimatum to + Germany as to Belgium had expired the night before. + We were at war.</p> + + <p>“Thank God,” said the Dean at breakfast, “we + needn’t cast down our eyes and slink by when we meet + a Frenchman.”</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_V"><a class="pagenum" id="page56" title="56"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER V</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> first thing that brought the seriousness of the + war home to Doggie was a letter from John + Fox. John Fox, a major in a Territorial regiment, + was mobilized. He regretted that he could not give + his personal attention to the proposed alterations at + Denby Hall. Should the plans be proceeded with in + his absence from the office, or would Mr. Trevor + care to wait till the end of the war, which, from the + nature of things, could not last very long? Doggie + trotted off to Peggy. She was greatly annoyed.</p> + + <p>“What awful rot!” she cried. “Fox, a major of + artillery! I’d just as soon trust you with a gun. + Why doesn’t he stick to his architecture?”</p> + + <p>“He’d be shot or something if he refused to go,” + said Doggie. “But why can’t we turn it over to Sir + Owen Julius?”</p> + + <p>“That old archæological fossil?”</p> + + <p>Peggy, womanlike, forgot that they had approached + him in the first place.</p> + + <p>“He’d never begin to understand what we want. + Fox hinted as much. Now Fox is modern and up to + date and sympathetic. If I can’t have Fox, I won’t + have Sir Owen. Why, he’s older than Dad! He’s + decrepit. Can’t we get another architect?”</p> + + <p>“Do you think, dear,” said Doggie, “that, in the + circumstances, it would be a nice thing to do?”</p> + + <p>She flashed a glance at him. She had woven no + young girl’s romantic illusions around Marmaduke. + <a class="pagenum" id="page57" title="57"> </a>Should necessity have arisen, she could have furnished + you with a merciless analysis of his character. But + in that analysis she would have frankly included a very + fine sense of honour. If he said a thing wasn’t quite + nice—well, it wasn’t quite nice.</p> + + <p>“I suppose it wouldn’t,” she admitted. “We + shall have to wait. But it’s a rotten nuisance all the + same.”</p> + + <p>Hundreds of thousands of not very intelligent, + but at the same time by no means unpatriotic, people, + like Peggy, at the beginning of the war thought trivial + disappointments rotten nuisances. We had all waxed + too fat during the opening years of the twentieth century, + and, not having a spiritual ideal in God’s universe, + we were in danger of perishing from Fatty Degeneration + of the Soul. As it was, it took a year or more of + war to cure us.</p> + + <p>It took Peggy quite a month to appreciate the + meaning of the mobilization of Major Fox, R.F.A. + A brigade of Territorial artillery flowed over Durdlebury, + and the sacred and sleepy meadows became a + mass of guns and horse-lines and men in khaki, and + waggons and dingy canvas tents—and the old quiet + streets were thick with unaccustomed soldiery. The + Dean called on the Colonel and officers, and soon the + house was full of eager young men holding the King’s + commission. Doggie admired their patriotism, but + disliked their whole-hearted embodiment of the + military spirit. They seemed to have no ideas beyond + their new trade. The way they clanked about in + their great boots and spurs got on his nerves. He + dreaded also lest Peggy should be affected by the + meretricious attraction of a uniform. There were + fine hefty fellows among the visitors at the Deanery, + on whom Peggy looked with natural admiration. + <a class="pagenum" id="page58" title="58"> </a>Doggie bitterly confided to Goliath that it was the + “glamour of brawn.” It never entered his head + during those early days that all the brawn of all the + manhood of the nation would be needed. We had our + well-organized Army and Navy, composed of peculiarly + constituted men whose duty it was to fight; + just as we had our well-organized National Church, + also composed of peculiarly constituted men whose + duty it was to preach. He regarded himself as remote + from one as from the other.</p> + + <p>Oliver, who had made a sort of peace with Doggie + and remained at the Deanery, very quickly grew + restless.</p> + + <p>One day, walking with Peggy and Marmaduke + in the garden, he said: “I wish I could get hold of + that confounded fellow, Chipmunk!”</p> + + <p>Partly through deference to the good Dean’s delicately + hinted distaste for that upsetter of decorous + households, and partly to allow his follower to attend + to his own domestic affairs, he had left Chipmunk in + London. Fifteen years ago Chipmunk had parted + from a wife somewhere in the neighbourhood of the + East India Docks. Both being illiterate, neither had + since communicated with the other. As he had left + her earning good money in a factory, his fifteen years’ + separation had been relieved from anxiety as to her + material welfare. A prudent, although a beer-loving + man, he had amassed considerable savings, and it was + the dual motive of sharing these with his wife and of + protecting his patron from the ever-lurking perils + of London, that had brought him across the seas. + When Oliver had set him free in town, he was going + in quest of his wife. But as he had forgotten the name + of the street near the East India Docks where his + wife lived, and the name of the factory in which she + <a class="pagenum" id="page59" title="59"> </a>worked, the successful issue of the quest, in Oliver’s + opinion, seemed problematical. The simple Chipmunk, + however, was quite sanguine. He would run + into her all right. As soon as he had found her he + would let the Captain know. Up to the present he + had not communicated with the Captain. He could + give the Captain no definite address, so the Captain + could not communicate with him. Chipmunk had + disappeared into the unknown.</p> + + <p>“Isn’t he quite capable of taking care of himself?” + asked Peggy.</p> + + <p>“I’m not so sure,” replied Oliver. “Besides, + he’s hanging me up. I’m kind of responsible for him, + and I’ve got sixty pounds of his money. It’s all I + could do to persuade him not to stow the lot in his + pocket, so as to divide it with Mrs. Chipmunk as soon + as he saw her. I must find out what has become of + the beggar before I move.”</p> + + <p>“I suppose,” said Doggie, “you’re anxious now + to get back to the South Seas?”</p> + + <p>Oliver stared at him. “No, sonny, not till the + war’s over.”</p> + + <p>“Why, you wouldn’t be in any great danger out + there, would you?”</p> + + <p>Oliver laughed. “You’re the funniest duck that + ever was, Doggie. I’ll never get to the end of you.” + And he strolled away.</p> + + <p>“What does he mean?” asked the bewildered + Doggie.</p> + + <p>“I think,” replied Peggy, smiling, “that he means + he’s going to fight.”</p> + + <p>“Oh,” said Doggie. Then after a pause he added, + “He’s just the sort of chap for a soldier, isn’t he?”</p> + + <p>The next day Oliver’s anxiety as to Chipmunk was + relieved by the appearance of the man himself, incredibly + <a class="pagenum" id="page60" title="60"> </a>dirty and dusty and thirsty. Having found no + trace of his wife, and having been robbed of the money + he carried about him, he had tramped to Durdlebury, + where he reported himself to his master as if nothing + out of the way had happened.</p> + + <p>“You silly blighter,” said Oliver. “Suppose I + had let you go with your other sixty pounds, you would + have been pretty well in the soup, wouldn’t you?”</p> + + <p>“Yes, Cap’en,” said Chipmunk.</p> + + <p>“And you’re not going on any blethering idiot wild-goose + chases after wives and such-like truck again, are + you?”</p> + + <p>“No, Cap’en,” said Chipmunk.</p> + + <p>This was in the stable-yard, after Chipmunk had + shaken some of the dust out of his hair and clothes + and had eaten and drunk voraciously. He was now + sitting on an upturned bucket and smoking his clay + pipe with an air of solid content. Oliver, lean and + supple, his hands in his pockets, looked humorously + down upon him.</p> + + <p>“And you’ve got to stick to me for the future, + like a roseate leech.”</p> + + <p>“Yes, Cap’en.”</p> + + <p>“You’re going to ride a horse.”</p> + + <p>“A wot?” roared Chipmunk.</p> + + <p>“A thing on four legs, that kicks like hell.”</p> + + <p>“Wotever for? I ain’t never ridden no ’osses.”</p> + + <p>“You’re going to learn, you unmilitary-looking, + worm-eaten scab. You’ve got to be a ruddy soldier.”</p> + + <p>“Gorblime!” said Chipmunk, “that’s the first I + ’eard of it. A ’oss soldier? You’re not kiddin’, + are you, Cap’en?”</p> + + <p>“Certainly not.”</p> + + <p>“Gorblime! Who would ha’ thought it?” + Then he spat lustily and sucked at his pipe.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page61" title="61"> </a>“You’ve nothing to say against it, have you?”</p> + + <p>“No, Cap’en.”</p> + + <p>“All right. And look here, when we’re in the + army you must chuck calling me Cap’en.”</p> + + <p>“What shall I have to call yer? Gineral?” + Chipmunk asked simply.</p> + + <p>“Mate, Bill, Joe—any old name.”</p> + + <p>“Ker-ist!” said Chipmunk.</p> + + <p>“Do you know why we’re going to enlist?”</p> + + <p>“Can’t say as ’ow I does, Cap’en.”</p> + + <p>“You chuckle-headed swab! Don’t you know + we’re at war?”</p> + + <p>“I did ’ear some talk about it in a pub one night,” + Chipmunk admitted. “’Oo are we fighting? Dutchmen + or Dagoes?”</p> + + <p>“Dutchmen.”</p> + + <p>Chipmunk spat in his horny hands, rubbed them + together and smiled. As each individual hair on his face + seemed to enter into the smile, the result was sinister.</p> + + <p>“Do you remember that Dutchman at Samoa, + Cap’en?”</p> + + <p>Oliver smiled back. He remembered the hulking, + truculent German merchant whom Chipmunk, having + half strangled, threw into the sea. He also remembered + the amount of accomplished lying he had to + practise in order to save Chipmunk from the clutches + of the law and get away with the schooner.</p> + + <p>“We leave here to-morrow,” said Oliver. “In + the meanwhile you’ll have to shave your ugly face.”</p> + + <p>For the first time Chipmunk was really staggered. + He gaped at Oliver’s retiring figure. Even his limited + and time-worn vocabulary failed him. The desperate + meaning of the war has flashed suddenly on millions + of men in millions of different ways. This is the + way in which it flashed on Chipmunk.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page62" title="62"> </a>He sat on his bucket pondering over the awfulness + of it and sucking his pipe long after it had been smoked + out. The Dean’s car drove into the yard and the + chauffeur, stripping off his coat, prepared to clean it + down.</p> + + <p>“Say, guv’nor,” said Chipmunk hoarsely, “what + do you think of this ’ere war?”</p> + + <p>“Same as most people,” replied the chauffeur tersely. + He shared in the general disapproval of Chipmunk.</p> + + <p>“But see ’ere. Cap’en he tells me I must shave me + face and be a ’oss soldier. I never shaved me face in + me life, and I dunno ’ow to do it, just as I dunno ’ow + to ride a ’oss. I’m a sailorman, I am, and sailormen + don’t shave their faces and ride ’osses. That’s why I + arsked yer what yer thought of this ’ere war.”</p> + + <p>The chauffeur struggled into his jeans and adjusted + them before replying.</p> + + <p>“If you’re a sailor, the place for you is the navy,” + he remarked in a superior manner. “As for the + cavalry, the Cap’en, as you call him, ought to have + more sense——”</p> + + <p>Chipmunk rose and swung his long arms threateningly.</p> + + <p>“Look ’ere, young feller, do you want to have your + blinkin’ ’ead knocked orf? Where the Cap’en goes, + I goes, and don’t you make any mistake about it!”</p> + + <p>“I didn’t say anything,” the chauffeur expostulated.</p> + + <p>“Then don’t say it. See? Keep your blinkin’ ’ead + shut and mind your own business.”</p> + + <p>And, scowling fiercely and thrusting his empty + pipe into his trousers pocket, Chipmunk rolled away.</p> + + <p>A few hours later Oliver, entering his room to dress + for dinner, found him standing in the light of the + window laboriously fitting studs into a shirt. The + devoted fellow having gone to report to his master, + <a class="pagenum" id="page63" title="63"> </a>had found Burford engaged in his accustomed task of + laying out his master’s evening clothes—Oliver during + his stay in London had provided himself with these + necessaries. A jealous snarl had sent Burford flying. + So intent was he on his work, that he did not hear + Oliver enter. Oliver stood and watched him. Chipmunk + was swearing wholesomely under his breath. + Oliver saw him take up the tail of the shirt, spit on it + and begin to rub something.</p> + + <p>“Ker-ist!” said Chipmunk.</p> + + <p>“What in the thundering blazes are you doing + there?” cried Oliver.</p> + + <p>Chipmunk turned.</p> + + <p>“Oh, my God!” said Oliver.</p> + + <p>Then he sank on a chair and laughed and laughed, + and the more he looked at Chipmunk the more he + laughed. And Chipmunk stood stolid, holding the + shirt of the awful, wet, thumb-marked front. But + it was not at the shirt that Oliver laughed.</p> + + <p>“Good God!” he cried, “were you born like + that?”</p> + + <p>For Chipmunk, having gone to the barber’s, was + clean-shaven, and revealed himself as one of the + most comically ugly of the sons of men.</p> + + <p>“Never mind,” said Oliver, after a while, “you’ve + made the sacrifice for your country.”</p> + + <p>“And wot if I get the face-ache?”</p> + + <p>“I’d get something that looked like a face before + I’d talk of it,” grinned Oliver.</p> + + <p>At the family dinner-table, Doggie being present, + he announced his intentions. It was the duty of + every able-bodied man to fight for the Empire. Had + not half a million just been called for? We should + want a jolly sight more than that before we got through + with it. Anyway, he was off to-morrow.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page64" title="64"> </a>“To-morrow?” echoed the Dean.</p> + + <p>Burford, who was handing him potatoes, arched + his eyebrows in alarm. He was fond of Oliver.</p> + + <p>“With Chipmunk.”</p> + + <p>Burford uttered an unheard sigh of relief.</p> + + <p>“We’re going to enlist in King Edward’s Horse. + They’re our kind. Overseas men. Lots of ’em what + you dear good people would call bad eggs. There you + make the mistake. Perhaps they mayn’t be fresh + enough raw for a dainty palate—but for cooking, + good hard cooking, by gosh! nothing can touch + ’em.”</p> + + <p>“You talk of enlisting, dear,” said Mrs. Conover. + “Does that mean as a private soldier?”</p> + + <p>“Yes—a trooper. Why not?”</p> + + <p>“You’re a gentleman, dear. And gentlemen in + the Army are officers.”</p> + + <p>“Not now, my dear Sophia,” said the Dean. + “Gentlemen are crowding into the ranks. They are + setting a noble example.”</p> + + <p>They argued it out in their gentle old-fashioned way. + The Dean quoted examples of sons of family who had + served as privates in the South African War.</p> + + <p>“And that to this,” said he, “is but an eddy to a + maelstrom.”</p> + + <p>“Come and join us, James Marmaduke,” said + Oliver across the table. “Chipmunk and me. + Three ‘sworn brothers to France.’”</p> + + <p>Doggie smiled easily. “I’m afraid I can’t undertake + to swear a fraternal affection for Chipmunk. + He and I would have neither habits nor ideals in + common.”</p> + + <p>Oliver turned to Peggy. “I wish,” said he, with + rare restraint, “he wouldn’t talk like a book on + deportment.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page65" title="65"> </a>“Marmaduke talks the language of civilization,” + laughed Peggy. “He’s not a savage like you.”</p> + + <p>“Don’t you jolly well wish he was!” said Oliver.</p> + + <p>Peggy flushed. “No, I don’t!” she declared.</p> + + <p>The Dean being called away on business immediately + after dinner, the young men were left alone in + the dining-room when the ladies had departed. Oliver + poured himself out a glass of port and filled his pipe—an + inelegant proceeding of which Doggie disapproved. + A pipe alone was barbaric, a pipe with + old port was criminal. He held his peace however.</p> + + <p>“James Marmaduke,” said Oliver, after a while, + “what are you going to do?” Much as Marmaduke + disliked the name of “Doggie,” he winced under the + irony of the new appellation.</p> + + <p>“I don’t see that I’m called upon to do anything,” + he replied.</p> + + <p>Oliver smoked and sipped his port. “I don’t want + to hurt your feelings any more,” said he gravely, + “though sometimes I’d like to scrag you—I suppose + because you’re so different from me. It was so when + we were children together. Now I’ve grown very + fond of Peggy. Put on the right track, she might + turn into a very fine woman.”</p> + + <p>“I don’t think we need discuss Peggy, Oliver,” + said Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>“I do. She is sticking to you very loyally.” + Oliver was a bit of an idealist. “The time may come + when she’ll be up the devil’s own tree. She’ll develop + a patriotic conscience. If she sticks to you while you + do nothing she’ll be miserable. If she chucks you, + as she probably will, she’ll be no happier. It’s all up + to you, James Doggie Marmaduke, old son. You’ll + have to gird up your loins and take sword and buckler + and march away like the rest. I don’t want Peggy + <a class="pagenum" id="page66" title="66"> </a>to be unhappy. I want her to marry a man. That’s + why I proposed to take you out with me to Huaheine + and try to make you one. But that’s over. Now, + here’s the real chance. Better take it sooner than + later. You’ll have to be a soldier, Doggie.”</p> + + <p>His pipe not drawing, he was preparing to dig it + with the point of a dessert-knife, when Doggie interposed + hurriedly.</p> + + <p>“For goodness’ sake, don’t do that! It makes + cold shivers run down my back!”</p> + + <p>Oliver looked at him oddly, put the extinct pipe + in his dinner-jacket pocket and rose.</p> + + <p>“A flaw in the dainty and divine ordering of things + makes you shiver now, old Doggie. What will you + do when you see a fellow digging out another fellow’s + intestines with the point of a bayonet? A bigger + flaw there somehow!”</p> + + <p>“Don’t talk like that. You make me sick,” said + Doggie.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_VI"><a class="pagenum" id="page67" title="67"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER VI</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">During</span> the next few months there happened + terrible and marvellous things, which are all + set down in the myriad chronicles of the time; which + shook the world and brought the unknown phenomenon + of change into the Close of Durdlebury. Folks + of strange habit and speech walked in it, and, gazing + at the Gothic splendour of the place, saw through the + mist of autumn and the mist of tears not Durdlebury + but Louvain. More than one of those grey houses + flanking the cathedral and sharing with it the continuity + of its venerable life, was a house of mourning; not + for loss in the inevitable and not unkindly way of + human destiny as understood and accepted with long + disciplined resignation—but for loss sudden, awful, + devastating; for the gallant lad who had left it but + a few weeks before, with a smile on his lips, and a + new and dancing light of manhood in his eyes, now + with those eyes unclosed and glazed staring at the pitiless + Flanders sky. Not one of those houses but was linked + with a battlefield. Beyond the memory of man the + reader of the Litany had droned the accustomed invocation + on behalf of the Sovereign and the Royal + Family, the Bishops, Priests and Deacons, the Lords + of the Council and all prisoners and captives, and the + congregation had lumped them all together in their + responses with an undifferentiating convention of + fervour. What had prisoners and captives, any more + than the Lords of the Council, to do with their lives, + <a class="pagenum" id="page68" title="68"> </a>their hearts, their personal emotions? But now—Durdlebury + men were known to be prisoners in German + hands, and after “all prisoners and captives” + there was a long and pregnant silence, in which was + felt the reverberation of war against pier and vaulted + arch and groined roof of the cathedral, which was + broken too, now and then, by the stifled sob of a + woman, before the choir came in with the response + so new and significant in its appeal—“We beseech + thee to hear us, O Lord!”</p> + + <p>And in every home the knitting-needles of women + clicked, as they did throughout the length and breadth + of the land. And the young men left shop and trade + and counting-house. And young parsons fretted, and + some obtained the Bishop’s permission to become Army + chaplains, and others, snapping their fingers (figuratively) + under the Bishop’s nose, threw their cassocks + to the nettles and put on the full (though in modern + times not very splendiferous) panoply of war. And + in course of time the brigade of artillery rolled away + and new troops took their place; and Marmaduke + Trevor, Esquire, of Denby Hall, was called upon to + billet a couple of officers and twenty men.</p> + + <p>Doggie was both patriotic and polite. Having a + fragment of the British Army in his house, he did + his best to make them comfortable. By January he + had no doubt that the Empire was in peril, that it + was every man’s duty to do his bit. He welcomed + the new-comers with open arms, having unconsciously + abandoned his attitude of superiority over mere brawn. + Doggie saw the necessity of brawn. The more the + better. It was every patriotic Englishman’s duty to + encourage brawn. If the two officers had allowed + him, he would have fed his billeted men every two + hours on prime beefsteaks and burgundy. He threw + <a class="pagenum" id="page69" title="69"> </a>himself heart and soul into the reorganization of his + household. Officers and men found themselves in + clover. The officers had champagne every night for + dinner. They thought Doggie a capital fellow.</p> + + <p>“My dear chap,” they would say, “you’re spoiling + us. I don’t say we don’t like it and aren’t grateful. + We jolly well are. But we’re supposed to rough it—to + lead the simple life—what? You’re doing us + too well.”</p> + + <p>“Impossible!” Doggie would reply, filling up the + speaker’s glass. “Don’t I know what we owe to you + fellows? In what other way can a helpless, delicate + crock like myself show his gratitude and in some sort + of little way serve his country?”</p> + + <p>When the sympathetic and wine-filled guest would + ask what was the nature of his malady, he would tap + his chest vaguely and reply:</p> + + <p>“Constitutional. I’ve never been able to do things + like other fellows. The least thing bowls me out.”</p> + + <p>“Dam hard lines—especially just now.”</p> + + <p>“Yes, isn’t it?” Doggie would answer. And once + he found himself adding, “I’m fed up with doing + nothing.”</p> + + <p>Here can be noted a distinct stage in Doggie’s + development. He realized the brutality of fact. + When great German guns were yawning open-mouthed + at you, it was no use saying, “Take the nasty, horrid + things away, I don’t like them.” They wouldn’t + go unless you took other big guns and fired at them. + And more guns were required than could be manned + by the peculiarly constituted fellows who made up + the artillery of the original British Army. New + fellows not at all warlike, peaceful citizens who had + never killed a cat in anger, were being driven by + patriotism and by conscience to man them. Against + <a class="pagenum" id="page70" title="70"> </a>Blood and Iron now supreme, the superior, æsthetic + and artistic being was of no avail. You might lament + the fall in relative values of collections of wall-papers + and little china dogs, as much as you liked; but you + could not deny the fall; they had gone down with + something of an ignoble “wallop.” Doggie began + to set a high value on guns and rifles and such-like + deadly engines, and to inquire petulantly why the + Government were not providing them at greater + numbers and at greater speed. On his periodic visits + to London he wandered round by Trafalgar Square + and Whitehall, to see for himself how the recruiting + was going on. At the Deanery he joined in ardent + discussions of the campaign in Flanders. On the + walls of his peacock and ivory room were maps stuck + all over with little pins. When he told the young + officer that he was wearied of inaction, he spoke the + truth. He began to feel mightily aggrieved against + Providence for keeping him outside this tremendous + national league of youth. He never questioned his + physical incapacity. It was as real a fact as the + German guns. He went about pitying himself and + seeking pity.</p> + + <p>The months passed. The regiment moved away + from Durdlebury, and Doggie was left alone in Denby + Hall.</p> + + <p>He felt solitary and restless. News came from + Oliver that he had been offered and had accepted an + infantry commission, and that Chipmunk, having none + of the special qualities of a “’oss soldier,” had, by certain + skilful wire-pullings, been transferred to his regiment, + and had once more become his devoted servant. + “A month of this sort of thing,” he wrote, “would + make our dear old Doggie sit up.” Doggie sighed. + If only he had been blessed with Oliver’s constitution!</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page71" title="71"> </a>One morning Briggins, his chauffeur, announced + that he could stick it no longer and was going to join + up. Then Doggie remembered a talk he had had + with one of the young officers who had expressed + astonishment at his not being able to drive a car. “I + shouldn’t have the nerve,” he had replied. “My + nerves are all wrong—and I shouldn’t have the + strength to change tyres and things.”… If his + chauffeur went, he would find it very difficult to get + another. Who would drive the Rolls-Royce?</p> + + <p>“Why not learn to drive yourself, sir?” said + Briggins. “Not the Rolls-Royce. I would put it + up or get rid of it, if I were you. If you engage a + second-rate man, as you’ll have to, who isn’t used to + this make of car, he’ll do it in for you pretty quick. + Get a smaller one in its place and drive it yourself. + I’ll undertake to teach you enough before I go.”</p> + + <p>So Doggie, following Briggins’ advice, took lessons + and, to his amazement, found that he did not die of + nervous collapse when a dog crossed the road in front + of the car and that the fitting of detachable wheels + did not require the strength of a Hercules. The first + time he took Peggy out in the two-seater he swelled + with pride.</p> + + <p>“I’m so glad to see you can do something!” she + said.</p> + + <p>Although she was kind and as mildly affectionate + as ever, he had noticed of late a curious reserve in her + manner. Conversation did not flow easily. There + seemed to be something at the back of her mind. + She had fits of abstraction from which, when rallied, + she roused herself with an effort.</p> + + <p>“It’s the war,” she would declare. “It’s affecting + everybody that way.”</p> + + <p>Gradually Doggie began to realize that she spoke + <a class="pagenum" id="page72" title="72"> </a>truly. Most people of his acquaintance, when he + was by, seemed to be thus afflicted. The lack of + interest they manifested in his delicacy of constitution + was almost impolite. At last he received an anonymous + letter, “For little Doggie Trevor, from the + girls of Durdlebury,” enclosing a white feather.</p> + + <p>The cruelty of it broke Doggie down. He sat in + his peacock and ivory room and nearly wept. Then + he plucked up courage and went to Peggy. She was + rather white about the lips as she listened.</p> + + <p>“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I expected something + of the sort to happen.”</p> + + <p>“It’s brutal and unjust.”</p> + + <p>“Yes, it’s brutal,” she admitted coldly.</p> + + <p>“I thought you, at any rate, would sympathize + with me,” he cried.</p> + + <p>She turned on him. “And what about me? Who + sympathizes with me? Do you ever give a moment’s + thought to what I’ve had to go through the last few + months?”</p> + + <p>“I don’t quite know what you mean,” he stammered.</p> + + <p>“I should have thought it was obvious. You can’t + be such an innocent babe as to suppose people don’t + talk about you. They don’t talk to you because they + don’t like to be rude. They send you white feathers + instead. But they talk to me. ‘Why isn’t Marmaduke + in khaki?’ ‘Why isn’t Doggie fighting?’ + ‘I wonder how you can allow him to slack about like + that!’—I’ve had a pretty rough time fighting your + battles, I can tell you, and I deserve some credit. I + want sympathy just as much as you do.”</p> + + <p>“My dear,” said Doggie, feeling very much humiliated, + “I never knew. I never thought. I do see + now the unpleasant position you’ve been in. People + <a class="pagenum" id="page73" title="73"> </a>are brutes. But,” he added eagerly, “you told them + the real reason?”</p> + + <p>“What’s that?” she asked, looking at him with + cold eyes.</p> + + <p>Then Doggie knew that the wide world was against + him. “I’m not fit. I’ve no constitution. I’m an + impossibility.”</p> + + <p>“You thought you had nerves until you learned to + drive the car. Then you discovered that you hadn’t. + You fancy you’ve a weak heart. Perhaps if you + learned to walk thirty miles a day you would discover + you hadn’t that either. And so with the rest of it.”</p> + + <p>“This is very painful,” he said, going to the window + and staring out. “Very painful. You are of the + same opinion as the young women who sent me that + abominable thing.”</p> + + <p>She had been on the strain for a long while and + something inside her had snapped. At his woebegone + attitude she relented however, and came up and + touched his shoulder.</p> + + <p>“A girl wants to feel some pride in the man she’s + going to marry. It’s horrible to have to be always + defending him—especially when she’s not sure she’s + telling the truth in his defence.”</p> + + <p>He swung round horrified. “Do you think I’m + shamming, so as to get out of serving in the Army?”</p> + + <p>“Not consciously. Unconsciously, I think you + are. What does your doctor say?”</p> + + <p>Doggie was taken aback. He had no doctor. He + had not consulted one for years, having no cause for + medical advice. The old family physician who had + attended his mother in her last illness and had prescribed + Gregory powders for him as a child, had retired + from Durdlebury long ago. There was only one + person living familiar with his constitution, and that + <a class="pagenum" id="page74" title="74"> </a>was himself. He made confession of the surprising + fact. Peggy made a little gesture.</p> + + <p>“That proves it. I don’t believe you have anything + wrong with you. The nerves business made + me sceptical. This is straight talking. It’s horrid, + I know. But it’s best to get through with it once + and for all.”</p> + + <p>Some men would have taken deep offence and, + consigning Peggy to the devil, have walked out of the + room. But Doggie, a conscientious, even though a + futile human being, was gnawed for the first time by + the suspicion that Peggy might possibly be right. He + desired to act honourably.</p> + + <p>“I’ll do,” said he, “whatever you think proper.”</p> + + <p>Peggy was swift to smite the malleable iron. To + use the conventional phrase might give an incorrect + impression of red-hot martial ardour on the part of + Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Good,” she said, with the first smile of the day. + “I’ll hold you to it. But it will be an honourable + bargain. Get Dr. Murdoch to overhaul you thoroughly, + with a view to the Army. If he passes you, + take a commission. Dad says he can easily get you + one through his old friend General Gadsby at the + War Office. If he doesn’t, and you’re unfit, I’ll + stick to you through thick and thin, and make the + young women of Durdlebury wish they’d never been + born.”</p> + + <p>She put out her hand. Doggie took it.</p> + + <p>“Very well,” said he, “I agree.”</p> + + <p>She laughed, and ran to the door.</p> + + <p>“Where are you going?”</p> + + <p>“To the telephone—to ring up Dr. Murdoch for + an appointment.”</p> + + <p>“You’re flabby,” said Dr. Murdoch the next + <a class="pagenum" id="page75" title="75"> </a>morning to an anxious Doggie in pink pyjamas; “but + that’s merely a matter of unused muscles. Physical + training will set it right in no time. Otherwise, my + dear Trevor, you’re in splendid health. I was afraid + your family history might be against you—the child + of elderly parents, and so forth. But nothing of the + sort. Not only are you a first-class life for an insurance + company, but you’re a first-class life for the Army—and + that’s saying a good deal. There’s not a flaw + in your whole constitution.”</p> + + <p>He put away his stethoscope and smiled at Doggie, + who regarded him blankly as the pronouncer of a + doom. He went on to prescribe a course of physical + exercises, so many miles a day walking, such and + such back-breaking and contortional performances in + his bathroom; if possible, a skilfully graduated career + in a gymnasium, but his words fell on the ears of a + Doggie in a dream; and when he had ended, Doggie + said:</p> + + <p>“I’m afraid, Doctor, you’ll have to write all that + out for me.”</p> + + <p>“With pleasure,” smiled the doctor, and gripped + him by the hand. And seeing Doggie wince, he + said heartily: “Ah! I’ll soon set that right for you. + I’ll get you something—an india-rubber contrivance + to practise with for half an hour a day, and you’ll + develop a hand like a gorilla’s.”</p> + + <p>Dr. Murdoch grinned his way, in his little car, to + his next patient. Here was this young slacker, coddled + from birth, absolutely horse-strong and utterly confounded + at being told so. He grinned and chuckled + so much that he nearly killed his most valuable old + lady patient, who was crossing the High Street.</p> + + <p>But Doggie crept out of bed and put on a violet + dressing-gown that clashed horribly with his pink + <a class="pagenum" id="page76" title="76"> </a>pyjamas, and wandered like a man in a nightmare + to his breakfast. But he could not eat. He swallowed + a cup of coffee and sought refuge in his own room. + He was frightened. Horribly frightened, caught in + a net from which there was no escape—not the tiniest + break of a mesh. He had given his word—and in + justice to Doggie, be it said that he held his word + sacred—he had given his word to join the Army if + he should be passed by Murdoch. He had been + passed—more than passed. He would have to join. + He would have to fight. He would have to live in + a muddy trench, sleep in mud, eat in mud, plough + through mud, in the midst of falling shells and other + instruments of death. And he would be an officer, + with all kinds of strange and vulgar men under him, + men like Chipmunk, for instance, whom he would + never understand. He was almost physically sick with + apprehension. He realized that he had never commanded + a man in his life. He had been mortally + afraid of Briggins, his late chauffeur. He had heard + that men at the front lived on some solid horror called + bully-beef dug out of tins, and some liquid horror + called cocoa, also drunk out of tins; that men kept + on their clothes, even their boots, for weeks at a time; + that rats ran over them while they tried to sleep; + that lice, hitherto associated in his mind with the most + revolting type of tramp, out there made no distinction + of persons. They were the common lot of the lowest + Tommy and the finest gentleman. And then the + fighting. The noise of the horrid guns. The disgusting + sights of men shattered to bloody bits. The + horrible stench. The terror of having one’s face shot + half away and being an object of revolt and horror + to all beholders for the rest of life. Death. Feverishly + he ruffled his comely hair. Death. He was surprised + <a class="pagenum" id="page77" title="77"> </a>that the contemplation of it did not freeze the + blood in his veins. Yes. He put it clearly before + him. He had given his word to Peggy that he would + go and expose himself to Death. Death. What did + it mean? He had been brought up in orthodox + Church of England Christianity. His flaccid mind + had never questioned the truth of its dogmas. He + believed, in a general sort of way, that good people + went to Heaven and bad people went to Hell. His + conscience was clear. He had never done any harm + to anybody. As far as he knew, he had broken none + of the Ten Commandments. In a technical sense + he was a miserable sinner, and so proclaimed himself + once a week. But though, perhaps, he had done + nothing in his life to merit eternal bliss in Paradise, + yet, on the other hand, he had committed no action + which would justify a kindly and just Creator in + consigning him to the eternal flames of Hell. Somehow + the thought of Death did not worry him. It + faded from his mind, being far less terrible than life + under prospective conditions. Discomfort, hunger, + thirst, cold, fatigue, pain; above all the terror of his + fellows—these were the soul-racking anticipations of + this new life into which it was a matter of honour for + him to plunge. And to an essential gentleman like + Doggie a matter of honour was a matter of life. And + so, dressed in his pink pyjamas and violet dressing-gown, + amid the peacock-blue and ivory hangings of + his boudoir room, and stared at by the countless unsympathetic + eyes of his little china dogs, Doggie Trevor + passed through his first Gethsemane.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">His decision was greeted with joy at the Deanery. + Peggy threw her arms round his neck and gave him + the very first real kiss he had ever received. It revived + <a class="pagenum" id="page78" title="78"> </a>him considerably. His Aunt Sophia also embraced + him. The Dean shook him warmly by the hand, + and talked eloquent patriotism. Doggie already felt + a hero. He left the house in a glow, but the drive + home in the two-seater was cold and the pitch-dark + night presaged other nights of mercilessness in the + future; and when Doggie sat alone by his fire, sipping + the hot milk which Peddle presented him on a silver + tray, the doubts and fears of the morning racked him + again. An ignoble possibility occurred to him. + Murdoch might be wrong. Murdoch might be prejudiced + by local gossip. Would it not be better to + go up to London and obtain the opinion of a first-class + man to whom he was unknown? There was + also another alternative. Flight. He might go to + America, and do nothing. To the South of France, + and help in some sort of way with hospitals for French + wounded. He caught himself up short as these + thoughts passed through his mind, and he shuddered. + He took up the glass of hot milk and put it down + again. Milk? He needed something stronger. A + glance in a mirror showed him his sleek hair tousled + into an upstanding wig. In a kind of horror of himself + he went to the dining-room and for the first time in + his life drank a stiff whisky and soda for the sake of + the stimulant. Reaction came. He felt a man once + more. Rather suicide at once than such damnable + dishonour. According to the directions which the + Dean, a man of affairs, had given him, he sat down + and wrote his application to the War Office for a + commission. Then—unique adventure!—he stole + out of the barred and bolted house, without thought + of hat and overcoat (let the traducers of alcohol mark + it well), ran down the drive and posted the letter in + the box some few yards beyond his entrance gates.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page79" title="79"> </a>The Dean had already posted his letter to his old + friend General Gadsby at the War Office.</p> + + <p>So the die was cast. The Rubicon was crossed. + The bridges were burnt. The irrevocable step was + taken. Dr. Murdoch turned up the next morning + with his prescription for physical training. And then + Doggie trained assiduously, monotonously, wearily. + He grew appalled by the senselessness of this apparently + unnecessary exertion. Now and then Peggy accompanied + him on his prescribed walks; but the charm + of her company was discounted by the glaring superiority + of her powers of endurance. While he ached with + fatigue, she pressed along as fresh as Atalanta at the + beginning of her race. When they parted by the + Deanery door, she would stand flushed, radiant in + her youth and health, and say:</p> + + <p>“We’ve had a topping walk, old dear. Now isn’t + it a glorious thing to feel oneself alive?”</p> + + <p>But poor Doggie of the flabby muscles felt half + dead.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">The fateful letter burdening Doggie with the King’s + commission arrived a few weeks later: a second + lieutenancy in a Fusilier battalion of the New Army. + Dates and instructions were given. The impress of + the Royal Arms at the head of the paper, with its + grotesque perky lion and unicorn, conveyed to Doggie + a sense of the grip of some uncanny power. The typewritten + words scarcely mattered. The impress fascinated + him. There was no getting away from it. + Those two pawing beasts held him in their clutch. + They headed a Death Warrant, from which there + was no appeal.</p> + + <p>Doggie put his house in order, dismissed with bounty + those of his servants who would be no longer needed, + <a class="pagenum" id="page80" title="80"> </a>and kept the Peddles, husband and wife, to look after + his interests. On his last night at home he went + wistfully through the familiar place, the drawing-room + sacred to his mother’s memory, the dining-room + so solid in its half-century of comfort, his own peacock + and ivory room so intensely himself, so expressive of + his every taste, every mood, every emotion. Those + strange old-world musical instruments—he could play + them all with the touch or breath of a master and a + lover. The old Italian theorbo. He took it up. + How few to-day knew its melodious secret! He + looked around. All these daintinesses and prettinesses + had a meaning. They signified the magical + little beauties of life—things which asserted a range + of spiritual truths, none the less real and consolatory + because vice and crime and ugliness and misery and + war co-existed in ghastly fact on other facets of the + planet Earth. The sweetness here expressed was as + essential to the world’s spiritual life as the sweet + elements of foodstuffs to its physical life. To the + getting together of all these articles of beauty he had + devoted the years of his youth…. And—another + point of view—was he not the guardian by inheritance—in + other words, by Divine Providence—of this + beautiful English home, the trustee of English comfort, + of the sacred traditions of sweet English life that + had made England the only country, the only country, + he thought, that could call itself a Country and not a + Compromise, in the world?</p> + + <p>And he was going to leave it all. All that it meant + in beauty and dignity and ease of life. For what?</p> + + <p>For horror and filthiness and ugliness, for everything + against which his beautiful peacock and ivory + room protested. Doggie’s last night at Denby Hall + was a troubled one.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page81" title="81"> </a>Aunt Sophia and Peggy accompanied him to London + and stayed with him at his stuffy little hotel off Bond + Street, while Doggie got his kit together. They + bought everything in every West End shop that any + salesman assured them was essential for active service. + Swords, revolvers, field-glasses, pocket-knives (for + gigantic pockets), compasses, mess-tins, cooking-batteries, + sleeping-bags, waterproofs, boots innumerable, + toilet accessories, drinking-cups, thermos flasks, + field stationery cases, periscopes, tinted glasses, Gieve + waistcoats, cholera belts, portable medicine cases, earplugs, + tin-openers, corkscrews, notebooks, pencils, + luminous watches, electric torches, pins, housewives, + patent seat walking-sticks—everything that the man + of commercial instincts had devised for the prosecution + of the war.</p> + + <p>The amount of warlike equipment with which + Doggie, with the aid of his Aunt Sophia and Peggy, + encumbered the narrow little passages of Sturrocks’s + Hotel, must have weighed about a ton.</p> + + <p>At last Doggie’s uniforms—several suits—came + home. He had devoted enormous care to their fit. + Attired in one he looked beautiful. Peggy decreed a + dinner at the Carlton. She and Doggie alone. Her + mother could get some stuffy old relation to spend the + evening with her at Sturrocks’s. She wanted Doggie + all to herself, so as to realize the dream of many + disgusting and humiliating months. And as she swept + through the palm court and up the broad stairs and + wound through the crowded tables of the restaurant + with the khaki-clad Doggie by her side, she felt proud + and uplifted. Here was her soldier whom she had + made. Her very own man in khaki.</p> + + <p>“Dear old thing,” she whispered, pressing his arm + as they trekked to their table. “Don’t you feel + <a class="pagenum" id="page82" title="82"> </a>glorious? Don’t you feel as if you could face the + universe?”</p> + + <p>Peggy drank one glass of the quart of champagne. + Doggie drank the rest.</p> + + <p>On getting into bed he wondered why this unprecedented + quantity of wine had not affected his + sobriety. Its only effect had been to stifle thought. + He went to bed and slept happily, for Peggy’s parting + kiss had been such as would conduce to any young + man’s felicity.</p> + + <p>The next morning Aunt Sophia and Peggy saw + him off to his depot, with his ton of luggage. He + leaned out of the carriage window and exchanged + hand kisses with Peggy until the curve of the line cut + her off. Then he settled down in his corner with the + <cite>Morning Post</cite>. But he could not concentrate his + attention on the morning news. This strange costume + in which he was clothed seemed unreal, monstrous; + no longer the natty dress in which he had been proud + to prink the night before, but a nightmare, Nessus-like + investiture, signifying some abominable burning + doom.</p> + + <p>The train swept him into a world that was upside + down.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_VII"><a class="pagenum" id="page83" title="83"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER VII</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">Those</span> were proud days for Peggy. She went + about Durdlebury with her head in the air, + and her step was as martial as though she herself wore + the King’s uniform, and she regarded the other girls + of the town with a defiant eye. If only she could + discover, she thought, the sender of the abominable + feather! In Timpany’s drapery establishment she + raked the girls at the counter with a searching glance. + At the cathedral services she studied the demure faces + of her contemporaries. Now that Doggie was a + soldier she held the anonymous exploit to be cowardly + and brutal. What did people know of the thousand + and one reasons that kept eligible young men out of + the Army? What had they known of Marmaduke? + As soon as the illusion of his life had been dispelled, he + had marched away with as gallant a tread as anybody; + and though Doggie had kept to himself his shrinkings + and his terrors, she knew that what to the average + hardily bred young man was a gay adventure, was to + him an ordeal of considerable difficulty. She longed for + his first leave, so that she could parade him before the + town, in the event of there being a lurking sceptic who + still refused to believe that he had joined the Army.</p> + + <p>Conspicuous in the drawing-room, framed in silver, + stood a large full-length photograph of Doggie in his + new uniform.</p> + + <p>She wrote to him daily, chronicling the little doings + of the town, at times reviling it for its dullness. Dad, + <a class="pagenum" id="page84" title="84"> </a>on numberless committees, was scarcely ever in the + house, except for hurried meals. Most of the pleasant + young clergy had gone. Many of the girls had gone + too: Dorothy Bruce to be a probationer in a V.A.D. + hospital. If Durdlebury were not such a rotten out-of-the-world + place, the infirmary would be full of + wounded soldiers, and she could do her turn at nursing. + As things were, she could only knit socks for Tommies + and a silk khaki tie for her own boy. But when + everybody was doing their bit, these occupations were + not enough to prevent her feeling a little slacker. + He would have to do the patriotic work for both of + them, tell her all about himself, and let her share + everything with him in imagination. She also expressed + her affection for him in shy and slangy terms.</p> + + <p>Doggie wrote regularly. His letters were as shy + and conveyed less information. The work was hard, + the hours long, his accommodation Spartan. They + were in huts on Salisbury Plain. Sometimes he + confessed himself too tired to write more than a few + lines. He had a bad cold in the head. He was + better. They had inoculated him against typhoid and + had allowed him two or three slack days. The first + time he had unaccountably fainted; but he had seen + some of the men do the same, and the doctor had + assured him that it had nothing to do with cowardice. + He had gone for a route march and had returned a + dusty lump of fatigue. But after having shaken the + dust out of his moustache—Doggie had a playful + turn of phrase now and then—and drunk a quart + of shandy-gaff, he had felt refreshed. Then it rained + hard, and they were all but washed out of the huts. + It was a very strange life—one which he never dreamed + could have existed. “Fancy me,” he wrote, “glad + to sleep on a drenched bed!” There was the riding-school. + <a class="pagenum" id="page85" title="85"> </a>Why hadn’t he learned to ride as a boy? + He had been told that the horse was a noble animal + and the friend of man. He was afraid he would + return to his dear Peggy with many of his young + illusions shattered. The horse was the most ignoble, + malevolent beast that ever walked, except the sergeant-major + in the riding-school. Peggy was filled with + admiration for his philosophic endurance of hardships. + It was real courage. His letters contained simple + statements of fact, but not a word of complaint. On + the other hand, they were not ebullient with joy; + but then, Peggy reflected, there was not much to be + joyous about in a ramshackle hut on Salisbury Plain. + “Dear old thing,” she would write, “although you + don’t grouse, I know you must be having a pretty + thin time. But you’re bucking up splendidly, and + when you get your leave I’ll do a girl’s very d——dest + (don’t be shocked; but I’m sure you’re learning far + worse language in the Army) to make it up to you.” + Her heart was very full of him.</p> + + <p>Then there came a time when his letters grew + rarer and shorter. At last they ceased altogether. + After a week’s waiting she sent an anxious telegram. + The answer came back. “Quite well. Will write + soon.” She waited. He did not write. One evening + an unstamped envelope, addressed to her in a + feminine hand, which she recognized as that of Marmaduke’s + anonymous correspondent, was found in the + Deanery letter-box. The envelope enclosed a copy + of a cutting from the “Gazette” of the morning + paper, and a sentence was underlined and adorned + with exclamation marks at the sides.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>“R. Fusiliers. Tempy. 2nd Lieutenant J. + Trevor resigns his commission.”</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page86" title="86"> </a>The Colonel dealt with him as gently as he could + in that final interview. He put his hand in a fatherly + way on Doggie’s shoulder and bade him not take it + too much to heart. He had done his best; but he + was not cut out for an officer. These were merciless + times. In matters of life and death we could not + afford weak links in the chain. Soldiers in high + command, with great reputations, had already been + scrapped. In Doggie’s case there was no personal + discredit. He had always conducted himself like a + gentleman and a man of honour, but he had not the + qualities necessary for the commanding of men. He + must send in his resignation.</p> + + <p>“But what can I do, sir?” asked Doggie in a + choking voice. “I am disgraced for ever.”</p> + + <p>The Colonel reflected for a moment. He knew + that Doggie’s life had been a little hell on earth from + the first day he had joined. He was very sorry for + the poor little toy Pom in his pack of hounds. It + was scarcely the toy Pom’s fault that he had failed. + But the Great Hunt could have no use for toy Poms. + At last he took a sheet of regimental notepaper and + wrote:</p> + + <blockquote> + <p class="salutation">“Dear Trevor,—</p> + + <p>“I am full of admiration for the plucky way in + which you have striven to overcome your physical + disabilities, and I am only too sorry that they should + have compelled the resignation of your commission + and your severance from the regiment.</p> + + <p class="signature">“Yours sincerely,<br /> + “<span class="name">L. G. Caird</span>,<br /> + “Lt-Col.”</p> + + </blockquote> + + <p>He handed it to Doggie.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page87" title="87"> </a>“That’s all I can do for you, my poor boy,” said he.</p> + + <p>“Thank you, sir,” said Doggie.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Doggie took a room at the Savoy Hotel, and sat + there most of the day, the pulp of a man. He had + gone to the Savoy, not daring to show his face at the + familiar Sturrocks’s. At the Savoy he was but a + number unknown, unquestioned. He wore civilian + clothes. Such of his uniforms and martial paraphernalia + as he had been allowed to retain in camp—for + one can’t house a ton of kit in a hut—he had given to + his batman. His one desire now was to escape from + the eyes of his fellow-men. He felt that he bore + upon him the stigma of his disgrace, obvious to any + casual glance. He was the man who had been turned + out of the army as a hopeless incompetent. Even + worse than the slacker—for the slacker might have + latent the qualities that he lacked. Even at the best + and brightest, he could only be mistaken for a slacker, + once more the likely recipient of white feathers from + any damsel patriotically indiscreet. The Colonel’s + letter brought him little consolation. It is true that + he carried it about with him in his pocket-book; + but the gibing eyes of observers had not the X-ray + power to read it there. And he could not pin it on + his hat. Besides, he knew that the kindly Colonel + had stretched a point of veracity. No longer could + he take refuge in his cherished delicacy of constitution. + It would be a lie.</p> + + <p>Peggy, in her softest and most pitying mood, never + guessed the nature of Doggie’s ordeal. Those letters + so brave, sometimes so playful, had been written with + shaky hand, misty eyes, throbbing head, despairing + heart. Looking back, it seemed to him one blurred + dream of pain. His brother officers were no worse + <a class="pagenum" id="page88" title="88"> </a>than those in any other Kitchener regiment. Indeed, + the Colonel was immensely proud of them and sang + their praises to any fellow-dugout who would listen + to him at the Naval and Military Club. But how + were a crowd of young men, trained in the rough and + tumble of public schools, universities and sport, and + now throbbing under the stress of the new deadly + game, to understand poor Doggie Trevor? They + had no time to take him seriously, save to curse him + when he did wrong, and in their leisure time he became + naturally a butt for their amusement.</p> + + <p>“Surely I don’t have to sleep in there?” he asked + the subaltern who was taking him round on the day + of his arrival in camp, and showed him his squalid + little cubby-hole of a hut with its dirty boards, its + cheap table and chair, its narrow sleep-dispelling little + bedstead.</p> + + <p>“Yes, it’s a beastly hole, isn’t it? Until last month + we were under canvas.”</p> + + <p>“Sleeping on the bare ground?”</p> + + <p>“Wallowing in the mud like pigs. Not one of us + without a cold. Never had a such filthy time in my + life.”</p> + + <p>Doggie looked about him helplessly, while the + comforter smiled grimly. Already his disconsolate + attitude towards the dingy hutments of the camp and + the layer of thick mud on his beautiful new boots + had diverted his companion.</p> + + <p>“Couldn’t I have this furnished at my own + expense? A carpet and a proper bed, and a few + pictures——”</p> + + <p>“I wouldn’t try.”</p> + + <p>“Why not?”</p> + + <p>“Some of it might get broken—not quite accidentally.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page89" title="89"> </a>“But surely,” gasped Doggie, “the soldiers would + not be allowed to come in here and touch my furniture?”</p> + + <p>“It seems,” said the subaltern, after a bewildered + stare, “that you have quite a lot to learn.”</p> + + <p>Doggie had. The subaltern reported a new kind + of animal to the mess. The mess saw to it that Doggie + should be crammed with information—but information + wholly incorrect and misleading, which added to + his many difficulties. When his ton of kit arrived + he held an unwilling reception in the hut and found + himself obliged to explain to gravely curious men the + use for which the various articles were designed.</p> + + <p>“This, I suppose, is a new type of gas-mask?”</p> + + <p>No. It was a patent cooker. Doggie politely + showed how it worked. He also demonstrated that a + sleeping-bag was not a kit-sack of a size unauthorized + by the regulations, and that a huge steel-pointed walking-stick + had nothing to do with agriculture.</p> + + <p>He was very weary of his visitors by the time they + had gone. The next day the Adjutant advised him + to scrap the lot. So sorrowfully he sent back most + of his purchases to London.</p> + + <p>Then the Imp of Mischance brought as a visitor + to the mess, a subaltern from another regiment who + belonged to Doggie’s part of the country.</p> + + <p>“Why—I’m blowed if it isn’t Doggie Trevor!” + he exclaimed carelessly. “How d’ye do, Doggie?”</p> + + <p>So thenceforward he was known in the regiment + by the hated name.</p> + + <p>There were rags in which, as he was often the + victim, he was forced to join. His fastidiousness + loathed the coarse personal contact of arms and legs + and bodies. His undeveloped strength could not cope + with the muscle of his young brother barbarians. + <a class="pagenum" id="page90" title="90"> </a>Aching with the day’s fatigue, he would plead, to + no avail, to be left alone. Compared with these feared + and detested scraps, he considered, in after-times, + battles to be agreeable recreations.</p> + + <p>Had he been otherwise competent, he might have + won through the teasing and the ragging of the mess. + No one disliked him. He was pleasant-mannered, + good-natured, and appeared to bear no malice. True, + his ignorance not only of the ways of the army but + of the ways of their old hearty world, was colossal, + his mode of expression rather that of a precise old + church dignitary than of a subaltern in a regiment + of Fusiliers, his habits, including a nervous shrinking + from untidiness and dirt, those of a dear old maid; + but the mess thought, honestly, that he could be + knocked into their own social shape, and in the process + of knocking carried out their own traditions. They + might have succeeded if Doggie had discovered any + reserve source of pride from which to draw. But + Doggie was hopeless at his work. The mechanism + of a rifle filled him with dismay. He could not help + shutting his eyes before he pulled the trigger. Inured + all his life to lethargic action, he found the smart crisp + movements of drill almost impossible to attain. The + riding-school was a terror and a torture. Every + second he deemed himself in imminent peril of death. + Said the sergeant-major:</p> + + <p>“Now, Mr. Trevor, you’re sitting on a ’orse and + not a ’olly-bush.”</p> + + <p>And Doggie would wish the horse and the sergeant-major + in hell.</p> + + <p>Again, what notion could poor Doggie have of + command? He had never raised his mild tenor voice + to damn anybody in his life. At first the tone in + which the officers ordered the men about shocked + <a class="pagenum" id="page91" title="91"> </a>him. So rough, so unmannerly, so unkind. He + could not understand the cheery lack of resentment + with which the men obeyed. He could not get into + the way of military directness, could never check the + polite “Do you mind” that came instinctively to his + lips. Now if you ask a private soldier whether he + minds doing a thing instead of telling him to do it, + his brain begins to get confused. As one defaulter, + whose confusion of brain had led him into trouble, + observed to his mates: “What can you do with a + blighter who’s a cross between a blinking Archbishop + and a ruddy dicky-bird?” What else, save show in + divers and ingenious ways that you mocked at his + authority? Doggie had the nervous dread of the + men that he had anticipated. During his training + on parade, words of command stuck in his throat. + When forced out, they grotesquely mixed themselves + together.</p> + + <p>The Adjutant gave advice.</p> + + <p>“Speak out, man. Bawl. You’re dealing with + soldiers at drill, not saying sweet nothings to old + ladies in a drawing-room.”</p> + + <p>And Doggie tried. Doggie tried very hard. He + was mortified by his own stupidity. Little points of + drill and duty that the others of his own standing + seemed to pick up at once, almost by instinct, he could + only grasp after long and tedious toil. No one realized + that his brain was stupefied by the awful and unaccustomed + physical fatigue.</p> + + <p>And then came the inevitable end.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">So Doggie crept into the Savoy Hotel and hid + himself there, wishing he were dead. It was some + time before he could write the terrible letter to Peggy. + He did so on the day when he saw that his resignation + <a class="pagenum" id="page92" title="92"> </a>was gazetted. He wrote after many anguished + attempts:</p> + + <blockquote> + <p class="salutation">“Dear Peggy,—</p> + + <p>“I haven’t written before about the dreadful + thing that has happened, because I simply couldn’t. + I have resigned my commission. Not of my own free + will, for, believe me, I would have gone through + anything for your sake, to say nothing of the country + and my own self-respect. To put it brutally, I have + been thrown out for sheer incompetence.</p> + + <p>“I neither hope nor expect nor want you to continue + your engagement to a disgraced man. I release + you from every obligation your pity and generosity + may think binding. I want you to forget me and + marry a man who can do the work of this new world.</p> + + <p>“What I shall do I don’t know. I have scarcely + yet been able to think. Possibly I shall go abroad. + At any rate I shan’t return to Durdlebury. If women + sent me white feathers before I joined, what would + they send me now? It will always be my consolation + to know that you once gave me your love, in spite + of the pain of realizing that I have forfeited it by + my unworthiness.</p> + + <p>“Please tell Uncle Edward that I feel keenly his + position, for he was responsible for getting me the + commission through General Gadsby. Give my love + to my Aunt, if she will have it.</p> + + <p class="signature">“Yours always affectionately,<br /> + <span class="name">J. Marmaduke Trevor</span>.”</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>By return of post came the answer:</p> + + <blockquote> + <p class="salutation">“Dearest,—</p> + + <p>“We are all desperately disappointed. Perhaps + we hurried on things too quickly and tried you too + <a class="pagenum" id="page93" title="93"> </a>high all at once. I ought to have known. Oh, my + poor dear boy, you must have had a dreadful time. + Why didn’t you tell me? The news in the ‘Gazette’ + came upon me like a thunderbolt. I didn’t know + what to think. I’m afraid I thought the worst, the + very horrid worst—that you had got tired of it and + resigned of your own accord. How was one to know? + Your letter was almost a relief.</p> + + <p>“In offering to release me from my engagement + you are acting like the honourable gentleman you are. + Of course, I can understand your feelings. But I + should be a little beast to accept right away like that. + If there are any feathers about, I should deserve to + have them stuck on to me with tar. Don’t think of + going abroad or doing anything foolish, dear, like that, + till you have seen me—that is to say, us, for Dad is + bringing Mother and me up to town by the first train + to-morrow. Dad feels sure that everything is not + lost. He’ll dig out General Gadsby and fix up something + for you. In the meantime, get us rooms at the + Savoy, though Mother is worried as to whether it’s + a respectable place for Deans to stay at. But I know + you wouldn’t like to meet us at Sturrocks’s—otherwise + you would have been there yourself. Meet our train. + All love from</p> + + <p class="signature">“<span class="name">Peggy</span>.”</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>Doggie engaged the rooms, but he did not meet the + train. He did not even stay in the hotel to meet his + relations. He could not meet them. He could not + meet the pity in their eyes. He read in Peggy’s note + a desire to pet and soothe him and call him “Poor + little Doggie,” and he writhed. He could not even + take up an heroic attitude, and say to Peggy: “When + I have retrieved the past and can bring you an unsullied + <a class="pagenum" id="page94" title="94"> </a>reputation, I will return and claim you. Till then + farewell.” There was no retrieving the past. Other + men might fail at first, and then make good; but he + was not like them. His was the fall of Humpty + Dumpty. Final—irretrievable.</p> + + <p>He packed up his things in a fright and, leaving no + address at the Savoy, drove to the Russell Hotel in + Bloomsbury. But he wrote Peggy a letter “to await + arrival.” If time had permitted he would have sent + a telegram, stating that he was off for Tobolsk or + Tierra del Fuego, and thereby prevented their useless + journey; but they had already started when he + received Peggy’s message.</p> + + <p>Nothing could be done, he wrote, in effect, to her, + nothing in the way of redemption. He would not + put her father to the risk of any other such humiliation. + He had learned, by the most bitter experience, that + the men who counted now in the world’s respect and + in woman’s love were men of a type to which, with + all the goodwill in the world, he could not make + himself belong—he did not say to which he wished + he could belong with all the agony and yearning of + his soul. Peggy must forget him. The only thing + he could do was to act up to her generous estimate + of him as an honourable gentleman. As such it was + his duty to withdraw for ever from her life. His + exact words, however, were: “You know how I + have always hated slang, how it has jarred upon me, + often to your amusement, when you have used it. + But I have learned in the past months how expressive + it may be. Through slang I’ve learned what I am. + I am a born ‘rotter.’ A girl like you can’t possibly + love and marry a rotter. So the rotter, having a + lingering sense of decency, makes his bow and exits—God + knows where.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page95" title="95"> </a>Peggy, red-eyed, adrift, rudderless on a frightening + sea, called her father into her bedroom at the Savoy + and showed him the letter. He drew out and adjusted + his round tortoise-shell-rimmed reading-glasses and + read it.</p> + + <p>“That’s a miraculously new Doggie,” said he.</p> + + <p>Peggy clutched the edges of his coat.</p> + + <p>“I’ve never heard you call him that before.”</p> + + <p>“It has never been worth while,” said the Dean.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_VIII"><a class="pagenum" id="page96" title="96"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">At</span> the Savoy, during the first stupefaction of his + misery, Doggie had not noticed particularly + the prevalence of khaki. At the Russell it dwelt + insistent, like the mud on Salisbury Plain. Men that + might have been the twin brethren of his late brother + officers were everywhere, free, careless, efficient. The + sight of them added the gnaw of envy to his heartache. + Even in his bedroom he could hear the jingle of their + spurs and their cheery voices as they clanked along + the corridor. On the third day after his migration + he took a bold step and moved into lodgings in Woburn + Place. Here at least he could find quiet, untroubled + by heart-rending sights and sounds. He spent most + of his time in dull reading and dispirited walking. + For he could walk now—so much had his training + done for him—and walk for many miles without + fatigue. For all the enjoyment he got out of it, he + might as well have marched round a prison yard. + Indeed there were some who tramped the prison + yards with keener zest. They were buoyed up with + the hope of freedom, they could look forward to the + ever-approaching day when they should be thrown + once more into the glad whirl of life. But the miraculously + new Doggie had no hope. He felt for ever + imprisoned in his shame. His failure preyed on his + mind.</p> + + <p>He dallied with thoughts of suicide. Why hadn’t + he salved, at any rate, his service revolver? Then he + <a class="pagenum" id="page97" title="97"> </a>remembered the ugly habits of the unmanageable thing—how + it always kicked its muzzle up in the air. + Would he have been able even to shoot himself with + it? And he smiled in self-derision. Drowning was + not so difficult. Any fool could throw himself into + the water. With a view to the inspection of a suitable + spot, Doggie wandered, idly, in the dusk of one evening, + to Waterloo Bridge, and turning his back to the ceaseless + traffic, leaned his elbows on the parapet and stared + in front of him. A few lights already gleamed from + Somerset House and the more dimly seen buildings + of the Temple. The dome of St. Paul’s loomed a + dark shadow through the mist. The river stretched + below very peaceful, very inviting. The parapet + would be easy to climb. He did not know whether + he could dive in the approved manner—hands joined + over head. He had never learned to swim, let alone + dive. At any rate, he could fall off. In that art + the riding-school had proved him a past master. But + the spot had its disadvantages. It was too public. + Perhaps other bridges might afford more privacy. He + would inspect them all. It would be something to + do. There was no hurry. As he was not wanted in + this world, so he had no assurance of being welcome + in the next. He had a morbid vision of avatar after + avatar being kicked from sphere to sphere.</p> + + <p>At this point of his reflections he became aware of + a presence by his side. He turned his head and found + a soldier, an ordinary private, very close to him, also + leaning on the parapet.</p> + + <p>“I thought I wasn’t mistaken in Mr. Marmaduke + Trevor.”</p> + + <p>Doggie started away, on the point of flight, dreading + the possible insolence of one of the men of his late + regiment. But the voice of the speaker rang in his + <a class="pagenum" id="page98" title="98"> </a>ears with a strange familiarity, and the great fleshy + nose, the high cheek-bones, and the little grey eyes in + the weather-beaten face suggested vaguely some one + of the long ago. His dawning recognition amused + the soldier.</p> + + <p>“Yes, laddie. Ye’re right. It’s your old Phineas—Phineas + McPhail, Esq., M.A., defunct. Now 33702 + Private P. McPhail redivivus.”</p> + + <p>He warmly wrung the hand of the semi-bewildered + Doggie, who murmured: “Very glad to meet you, + I’m sure.”</p> + + <p>Phineas, gaunt and bony, took his arm.</p> + + <p>“Would it not just be possible,” he said, in his old + half-pedantic, half-ironic intonation, “to find a locality + less exposed to the roar of traffic and the rude jostling + of pedestrians and the inclemency of the elements, + in which we can enjoy the amenities of a little refined + conversation?”</p> + + <p>It was like a breath from the past. Doggie smiled.</p> + + <p>“Which way are you going?”</p> + + <p>“Your way, my dear Marmaduke, was ever mine, + until I was swept, I thought for ever, out of your path + by a torrential spate of whisky.”</p> + + <p>He laughed, as though it had been a playful freak + of destiny. Doggie laughed, too. But for the words + he had addressed to hotel and lodging-house folk, he + had spoken to no one for over a fortnight. The + instinctive craving for companionship made Phineas + suddenly welcome.</p> + + <p>“Yes. Let us have a talk,” said he. “Come to + my rooms, if you have the time. There’ll be some + dinner.”</p> + + <p>“Will I come? Will I have dinner? Will I + re-enter once more the paradise of the affluent? + Laddie, I will.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page99" title="99"> </a>In the Strand they hailed a taxi and drove to Bloomsbury. + On the way Phineas asked:</p> + + <p>“You mentioned your rooms. Are you residing + permanently in London?”</p> + + <p>“Yes,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“And Durdlebury?”</p> + + <p>“I’m not going back.”</p> + + <p>“London’s a place full of temptations for those + without experience,” Phineas observed sagely.</p> + + <p>“I’ve not noticed any,” Doggie replied. On which + Phineas laughed and slapped him on the knee.</p> + + <p>“Man,” said he, “when I first saw you I thought + you had changed into a disillusioned misanthropist. + But I’m wrong. You haven’t changed a bit.”</p> + + <p>A few minutes later they reached Woburn Place. + Doggie showed him into the sitting-room on the + drawing-room floor. A fire was burning in the grate, + for though it was only early autumn, the evening was + cold. The table was set for Doggie’s dinner. Phineas + looked round him in surprise. The heterogeneous + and tasteless furniture, the dreadful Mid-Victorian + prints on the walls—one was the “Return of the + Guards from the Crimea,” representing the landing + from the troop-ship, repellent in its smug unreality, + the coarse glass and well-used plate on the table, the + crumpled napkin in a ring (for Marmaduke who in + his mother’s house had never been taught to dream that + a napkin could possibly be used for two consecutive + meals!), the general air of slipshod Philistinism—all + came as a shock to Phineas, who had expected to find + in Marmaduke’s “rooms” a replica of the fastidious + prettiness of the peacock and ivory room at Denby + Hall. He scratched his head, covered with a thick + brown thatch.</p> + + <p>“Laddie,” said he gravely, “you must excuse me + <a class="pagenum" id="page100" title="100"> </a>if I take a liberty; but I canna fit you into this + environment.”</p> + + <p>Doggie looked about him also. “Seems funny, + doesn’t it?”</p> + + <p>“It cannot be that you’ve come down in the + world?”</p> + + <p>“To bed-rock,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“No?” said Phineas, with an air of concern. + “Man, I’m awful sorry. I know what the coming + down feels like. And I, finding it not abhorrent to + a sophisticated and well-trained conscience, and thinking + you could well afford it, extracted a thousand pounds + from your fortune. My dear lad, if Phineas McPhail + could return the money——”</p> + + <p>Doggie broke in with a laugh. “Pray don’t distress + yourself, Phineas. It’s not a question of money. I’ve + as much as ever I had. The last thing in the world + I’ve had to think of has been money.”</p> + + <p>“Then what in the holy names of Thunder and + Beauty,” cried Phineas, throwing out one hand to an + ancient saddle-bag sofa whose ends were covered by + flimsy rags, and the other to the decayed ormolu clock + on the mantelpiece, “what in the name of common + sense are you doing in this awful inelegant lodging-house?”</p> + + <p>“I don’t know,” replied Doggie. “It’s a fact,” + he continued after a pause. “The scheme of decoration + is revolting to every æsthetic sense which I’ve + spent my life in cultivating. Its futile pretentiousness + is the rasping irritation of every hour. Yet here I am. + Quite comfortable. And here I propose to stay.”</p> + + <p>Phineas McPhail, M.A., late of Glasgow and Cambridge, + looked at Doggie with his keen little grey eyes + beneath bent and bristling eyebrows. In the language + of 33702 Private McPhail, he asked:</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page101" title="101"> </a>“What the blazes is it all about?”</p> + + <p>“That’s a long story,” said Doggie, looking at + his watch. “In the meantime, I had better give + some orders about dinner. And you would like to + wash.”</p> + + <p>He threw open a wing of the folding-doors, once + in Georgian times separating drawing-room from withdrawing-room, + and now separating living-room from + bedroom, and switching on the light, invited McPhail + to follow.</p> + + <p>“I think you’ll find everything you want,” said he.</p> + + <p>Phineas McPhail, left alone to his ablutions, again + looked round, and he had more reason than ever to + ask what it was all about. Marmaduke’s bedroom + at Denby Hall had been a dream of satinwood and + dull blue silk. The furniture and hangings had been + Mrs. Trevor’s present to Marmaduke on his sixteenth + birthday. He remembered how he had been bored + to death by that stupendous ass of an old woman—for + so he had characterized her—during the process of + selection and installation. The present room, although + far more luxurious than any that Phineas McPhail + had slept in for years, formed a striking contrast with + that remembered nest of effeminacy.</p> + + <p>“I’ll have to give it up,” he said to himself. But + just as he had put the finishing touches to his hair an + idea occurred to him. He flung open the door.</p> + + <p>“Laddie, I’ve got it. It’s a woman.”</p> + + <p>But Doggie laughed and shook his head, and leaving + McPhail, took his turn in the bedroom. For the + first time since his return to civil life he ceased for a + few moments to brood over his troubles. McPhail’s + mystification amused him. McPhail’s personality and + address, viewed in the light of the past, were full of + interest. Obviously he was a man who lived unashamed + <a class="pagenum" id="page102" title="102"> </a>on low levels. Doggie wondered how he + could have regarded him for years with a respect + almost amounting to veneration. In a curious + unformulated way Doggie felt that he had authority + over this man so much older than himself, who had + once been his master. It tickled into some kind of + life his deadened self-esteem. Here at last was a + man with whom he could converse on sure ground. + The khaki uniform caused him no envy.</p> + + <p>“The poet is not altogether incorrect,” said McPhail, + when they sat down to dinner, “in pointing out + the sweet uses of adversity. If it had not been for the + adversity of a wee bit operation, I should not now be + on sick furlough. And if I had not been on furlough + I shouldn’t have the pleasure of this agreeable reconciliation. + Here’s to you, laddie, and to our lasting + friendship.” He sipped his claret. “It’s not like + the Lafitte in the old cellar—<em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Eheu fugaces anni et</em>—what + the plague is the Latin for vintages? But + ’twill serve.” He drank again and smacked his + lips. “It will even serve very satisfactorily. Good + wine at a perfect temperature is not the daily drink + of the British soldier.”</p> + + <p>“By the way,” said Doggie, “you haven’t told + me why you became a soldier.”</p> + + <p>“A series of vicissitudes dating from the hour I + left your house,” said Phineas, “vicissitudes the recital + of which would wring your heart, laddie, and make + angels weep if their lachrymal glands were not too + busily engaged by the horrors of war, culminated + four months ago in an attack of fervid and penniless + patriotism. No one seemed to want me except my + country. She clamoured for me on every hoarding + and every omnibus. A recruiting-sergeant in Trafalgar + Square tapped me on the arm, and said: ‘Young + <a class="pagenum" id="page103" title="103"> </a>man, your country wants you.’ Said I with my + Scottish caution, ‘Can you take your affidavit that + you got the information straight from the War Office?’ + ‘I can,’ said he. Then I threw myself on his bosom + and bade him take me to her. That’s how I became + 33702 Private Phineas McPhail, A Company, 10th + Wessex Rangers, at the remuneration of one shilling + and twopence per diem.”</p> + + <p>“Do you like it?” asked Doggie.</p> + + <p>Phineas rubbed the side of his thick nose thoughtfully.</p> + + <p>“There you come to the metaphysical conception + of human happiness,” he replied. “In itself it is a + vile life. To a man of thirty-five——”</p> + + <p>“Good lord!” cried Doggie, “I always thought + you were about fifty!”</p> + + <p>“Your mother caught me young, laddie. To a + man of thirty-five, a graduate of ancient and honourable + universities and a whilom candidate for holy + orders, it is a life that would seem to have no attraction + whatever. The hours are absurd, the work distasteful, + and the mode of living repulsive. But strange to say, + it fully contents me. The secret of happiness lies in + the supple adaptability to conditions. When I found + that it was necessary to perform ridiculous antics with + my legs and arms, I entered into the comicality of the + idea and performed them with an indulgent zest which + soon won me the precious encomiums of my superiors + in rank. When I found that the language of the + canteen was not that of the pulpit or the drawing-room, + I quickly acquired the new vocabulary and won the + pleasant esteem of my equals. By means of this faculty + of adaptability I can suck enjoyment out of everything. + But, at the same time, mind you, keeping in reserve a + little secret fount of pleasure.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page104" title="104"> </a>“What do you call a little secret fount of pleasure?” + asked Doggie.</p> + + <p>“I’ll give you an illustration—and, if you’re the + man I consider you to be, you’ll take a humorous view + of my frankness. At present I adapt myself to a rough + atmosphere of coarseness and lustiness, in which + nothing coarse or lusty I could do would produce + the slightest ripple of a convulsion: but I have my + store of a cultivated mind and cheap editions of the + classics, my little secret fount of Castaly to drink from + whenever I so please. On the other hand, when I + had the honour of being responsible for your education, + I adapted myself to a hot-house atmosphere in which + Respectability and the concomitant virtues of Supineness + and Sloth were cultivated like rare orchids; but + in my bedroom I kept a secret fount which had its + source in some good Scots distillery.”</p> + + <p>Whereupon he attacked his plateful of chicken + with vehement gusto.</p> + + <p>“You’re a hedonist, Phineas,” said Doggie, after + a thoughtful pause.</p> + + <p>“Man,” said Phineas, laying down his knife and + fork, “you’ve just hit it. I am. I’m an accomplished + hedonist. An early recognition of the fact + saved me from the Church.”</p> + + <p>“And the Church from you,” said Doggie quietly.</p> + + <p>Phineas shot a swift glance at him beneath his + shaggy brown eyebrows.</p> + + <p>“Ay,” said he. “Though, mark you, if I had + followed my original vocation, the Bench of Bishops + could not have surpassed me in the unction in which + I would have wallowed. If I had been born a bee in + a desert, laddie, I would have sucked honey out of a + dead camel.”</p> + + <p>With easy and picturesque cynicism, and in a Glasgow + <a class="pagenum" id="page105" title="105"> </a>accent which had curiously broadened since his + spell of Oriental ease at Denby Hall, he developed his + philosophy, illustrating it by incidents more or less + reputable in his later career. At first, possessor of the + ill-gotten thousand pounds and of considerable savings + from a substantial salary, he had enjoyed the short + wild riot of the Prodigal’s life. Paris saw most of his + money—the Paris which, under his auspices, Doggie + never knew. Plentiful claret set his tongue wagging + in Rabelaisian reminiscence. After Paris came husks. + Not bad husks if you knew how to cook them. Borrowed + salt and pepper and a little stolen butter worked + wonders. But they were irritating to the stomach. + He lay on the floor, said he, and yelled for fatted + calf; but there was no soft-headed parent to supply + it. Phineas McPhail must be a slave again and work + for his living. Then came private coaching, freelance + journalism, hunting for secretaryships: the commonplace + story humorously told of the wastrel’s + decline; then a gorgeous efflorescence in light green + and gold as the man outside a picture palace in Camberwell—and + lastly, the penniless patriot throwing himself + into the arms of his desirous country.</p> + + <p>“Have you any whisky in the house, laddie?” + he asked, after the dinner things had been taken away.</p> + + <p>“No,” said Doggie, “but I could easily get you + some.”</p> + + <p>“Pray don’t,” said McPhail. “If you had, I + was going to ask you to be kind enough not to let + your excellent landlord, whom I recognize as a butler + of the old school, produce it. Butlers of the old school + are apt, like Peddle, to bring in a maddening tray of + decanters, syphons, and glasses. You may not believe + me, but I haven’t touched a drop of whisky since I + joined the army.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page106" title="106"> </a>“Why?” asked Doggie.</p> + + <p>McPhail looked at the long carefully preserved + ash of one of Doggie’s excellent cigars.</p> + + <p>“It’s all a part of the doctrine of adaptability. In + order to attain happiness in the army, the first step is to + avoid differences of opinion with the civil and military + police and non-commissioned officers, and such-like + sycophantic myrmidons of authority. Being a man of + academic education, it is with difficulty that I agree + with them when I’m sober. If I were drunk, my + bonnie laddie”—he waved a hand—“well—I don’t + get drunk. And as I have no use for whisky, as merely + an agreeable beverage, I have struck whisky out of my + hedonistic scheme of existence. But if you have any + more of that pleasant claret——”</p> + + <p>Doggie rang the bell and gave the order. The + landlord brought in bottle and glasses.</p> + + <p>“And now, my dear Marmaduke,” said Phineas + after an appreciative sip, “now that I have told you + the story of my life, may I, without impertinent + curiosity, again ask you what you meant when you + said you had come down to bed-rock?”</p> + + <p>The sight of the man, smug, cynical, shameless, + sprawling luxuriously on the sofa, with his tunic + unbuttoned, filled him with sudden fury: such fury + as Oliver’s insult had aroused, such as had impelled + him during a vicious rag in the mess to clutch a man’s + hair and almost pull it out by the roots.</p> + + <p>“Yes, you may; and I’ll tell you,” he cried, starting + to his feet. “I’ve reached the bed-rock of myself—the + bed-rock of humiliation and disgrace. And it’s + all your fault. Instead of training me to be a man, + you pandered to my poor mother’s weaknesses and + brought me up like a little toy dog—the infernal name + still sticks to me wherever I go. You made a helpless + <a class="pagenum" id="page107" title="107"> </a>fool of me, and let me go out a helpless fool into the + world. And when you came across me I was thinking + whether it wouldn’t be best to throw myself over the + parapet. A month ago you would have saluted me + in the street and stood before me at attention when I + spoke to you——”</p> + + <p>“Eh? What’s that, laddie?” interrupted Phineas, + sitting up. “You’ve held a commission in the + army?”</p> + + <p>“Yes,” said Doggie fiercely, “and I’ve been + chucked. I’ve been thrown out as a hopeless rotter. + And who is most to blame—you or I? It’s you. + You’ve brought me to this infernal place. I’m here + in hiding—hiding from my family and the decent + folk I’m ashamed to meet. And it’s all your fault, + and now you have it!”</p> + + <p>“Laddie, laddie,” said Phineas reproachfully, “the + facts of my being a guest beneath your roof and my + humble military rank, render it difficult for me to make + an appropriate reply.”</p> + + <p>Doggie’s rage had spent itself. These rare fits were + short-lived and left him somewhat unnerved.</p> + + <p>“I’m sorry, Phineas. As you say, you’re my + guest. And as to your uniform, God knows I honour + every man who wears it.”</p> + + <p>“That’s taking things in the right spirit,” Phineas + conceded graciously, helping himself to another glass + of wine. “And the right spirit is a great healer of + differences. I’ll not go so far as to deny that there is + an element of justice in your apportionment of blame. + There may, on various occasions, have been some small + dereliction of duty. But you’ll have been observing + that in the recent exposition of my philosophy I have + not laboured the point of duty to disproportionate + exaggeration.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page108" title="108"> </a>Doggie lit a cigarette. His fingers were still + shaking. “I’m glad you own up. It’s a sign of + grace.”</p> + + <p>“Ay,” said Phineas, “no man is altogether bad. + In spite of everything, I’ve always entertained a warm + affection for you, laddie, and when I saw you staring + at bogies round about the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral + my heart went out to you. You didn’t look over-happy.”</p> + + <p>Doggie, always responsive to human kindness, + was touched. He felt a note of sincerity in McPhail’s + tone. Perhaps he had judged him harshly, overlooking + the plea in extenuation which Phineas had set + up—that in every man there must be some saving + remnant of goodness.</p> + + <p>“I wasn’t happy, Phineas,” he said; “I was as + miserable an outcast as could be found in London, + and when a fellow’s down and out, you must forgive + him for speaking more bitterly than he ought.”</p> + + <p>“Don’t I know, laddie? Don’t I know?” said + Phineas sympathetically. He reached for the cigar-box. + “Do you mind if I take another? Perhaps + two—one to smoke afterwards, in memory of this + meeting. It is a long time since my lips touched a + thing so gracious as a real Havana.”</p> + + <p>“Take a lot,” said Doggie generously, “I don’t + really like cigars. I only bought them because I + thought they might be stronger than cigarettes.”</p> + + <p>Phineas filled his pockets. “You can pay no greater + compliment to a man’s honesty of purpose,” said he, + “than by taking him at his word. And now,” he + continued, when he had carefully lit the cigar he had + first chosen, “let us review the entire situation. What + about our good friends at Durdlebury? What about + your uncle, the Very Reverend the Dean, against + <a class="pagenum" id="page109" title="109"> </a>whom I bear no ill-will, though I do not say that his + ultimate treatment of me was not over-hasty—what + about him? If you call upon me to put my almost + fantastically variegated experience of life at your + disposal, and advise you in this crisis, so I must ask you + to let me know the exact conditions in which you find + yourself.”</p> + + <p>Doggie smiled once again, finding something diverting + and yet stimulating in the calm assurance of Private + McPhail.</p> + + <p>“I’m not aware that I’ve asked you for advice, + Phineas.”</p> + + <p>“The fact that you’re not aware of many things + that you do is no proof that you don’t do them—and + do them in a manner perfectly obvious to another + party,” replied Phineas sententiously. “You’re asking + for advice and consolation from any friendly human + creature to whom you’re not ashamed to speak. You’ve + had an awful sorrowful time, laddie.”</p> + + <p>Doggie roamed about the room, with McPhail’s + little grey eyes fixed on him. Yes, Phineas was + right. He would have given most of his possessions + to be able, these later days, to pour out his tortured + soul into sympathetic ears. But shame had kept him, + still kept him, would always keep him, from the ears of + those he loved. Yes, Phineas had said the diabolically + right thing. He could not be ashamed to speak to + Phineas. And there was something good in Phineas + which he had noticed with surprise. How easy for + him, in response to bitter accusation, to cast the blame + on his mother? He himself had given the opening. + How easy for him to point to his predecessor’s short + tenure of office and plead the alternative of carrying + out Mrs. Trevor’s theory of education or of resigning + his position in favour of some sycophant even more + <a class="pagenum" id="page110" title="110"> </a>time-serving? But he had kept silent…. Doggie + stopped short and looked at Phineas with eyes dumbly + questioning and quivering lips.</p> + + <p>Phineas rose and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, + and said very gently:</p> + + <p>“Tell me all about it, laddie.”</p> + + <p>Then Doggie broke down, and with a gush of + unminded tears found expression for his stony despair. + His story took a long time in the telling; and Phineas + interjecting an occasional sympathetic “Ay, ay,” + and a delicately hinted question, extracted from Doggie + all there was to tell, from the outbreak of war to their + meeting on Waterloo Bridge.</p> + + <p>“And now,” cried he at last, a dismally tragic + figure, his young face distorted and reddened, his sleek + hair ruffled from the back into unsightly perpendicularities + (an invariable sign of distracted emotion) + and his hands appealingly outstretched—“what the + hell am I going to do?”</p> + + <p>“Laddie,” said Phineas, standing on the hearthrug, + his hands on his hips, “if you had posed the question + in the polite language of the precincts of Durdlebury + Cathedral, I might have been at a loss to reply. But + the manly invocation of hell shows me that your foot + is already on the upward path. If you had prefaced + it by the adjective that gives colour to all the aspirations + of the British Army, it would have been better. But + I’m not reproaching you, laddie. <em lang="it" xml:lang="it">Poco à poco.</em> It + is enough. It shows me you are not going to run away + to a neutral country and present the unedifying spectacle + of a mangy little British lion at the mercy + of a menagerie of healthy hyenas and such-like + inferior though truculent beasties.”</p> + + <p>“My God!” cried Doggie, “haven’t I thought + of it till I’m half mad? It would be just as you say—unendurable.” + <a class="pagenum" id="page111" title="111"> </a>He began to pace the room again. + “And I can’t go to France. It would be just the + same as England. Every one would be looking white + feathers at me. The only thing I can do is to go out + of the world. I’m not fit for it. Oh, I don’t mean + suicide. I’ve not enough pluck. That’s off. But + I could go and bury myself in the wilderness somewhere + where no one would ever find me.”</p> + + <p>“Laddie,” said McPhail, “I misdoubt that you’re + going to settle down in any wilderness. You haven’t + the faculty of adaptability of which I have spoken + to-night at some length. And your heart is young + and not coated with the holy varnish of callousness, + which is a secret preparation known only to those + who have served a long apprenticeship in a severe + school of egotism.”</p> + + <p>“That’s all very well,” cried Doggie, “but what + the——”</p> + + <p>Phineas waved an interrupting hand. “You’ve + got to go back, laddie. You’ve got to whip all the + moral courage in you and go back to Durdlebury. + The Dean, with his influence, and the letter you + have shown me from your Colonel, can easily get you + some honourable employment in either Service not so + exacting as the one which you have recently found yourself + unable to perform.”</p> + + <p>Doggie threw a newly-lighted cigarette into the + fire and turned passionately on McPhail.</p> + + <p>“I won’t. You’re talking drivelling rot. I + can’t. I’d sooner die than go back there with my + tail between my legs. I’d sooner enlist as a private + soldier.”</p> + + <p>“Enlist?” said Phineas, and he drew himself up + straight and gaunt. “Well, why not?”</p> + + <p>“Enlist?” echoed Doggie in a dull tone.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page112" title="112"> </a>“Have you never contemplated such a possibility?”</p> + + <p>“Good God, no!” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“I have enlisted. And I am a man of ancient + lineage as honourable, so as not to enter into unproductive + argument, as yours. And I am a Master of Arts + of the two Universities of Glasgow and Cambridge. + Yet I fail to find anything dishonourable in my present + estate as 33702 Private Phineas McPhail in the British + Army.”</p> + + <p>Doggie seemed not to hear him. He stared at him + wildly.</p> + + <p>“Enlist?” he repeated. “As a Tommy?”</p> + + <p>“Even as a Tommy,” said Phineas. He glanced + at the ormolu clock. “It is past one. The respectable + widow woman near the Elephant and Castle + who has let me a bedroom will be worn by anxiety + as to my non-return. Marmaduke, my dear, dear + laddie, I must leave you. If you will be lunching + here twelve hours hence, nothing will give me greater + pleasure than to join you. Laddie, do you think you + could manage a fried sole and a sweetbread?”</p> + + <p>“Enlist?” said Doggie, following him out to the + front door in a dream.</p> + + <p>He opened the door. Phineas shook hands.</p> + + <p>“Fried sole and a sweetbread at one-thirty?”</p> + + <p>“Of course, with pleasure,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>Phineas fumbled in his pockets.</p> + + <p>“It’s a long cry at this time of night from Bloomsbury + to the Elephant and Castle. You haven’t the + price of a taxi fare about you, laddie—two or three + pounds——?”</p> + + <p>Doggie drew from his patent note-case a sheaf of one-pound + and ten-shilling treasury notes and handed them + over to McPhail’s vulture clutch.</p> + + <p>“Good night, laddie!”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page113" title="113"> </a>“Good night!”</p> + + <p>Phineas strode away into the blackness. Doggie + shut the front door and put up the chain and went + back into his sitting-room. He wound his fingers + in his hair.</p> + + <p>“Enlist? My God!”</p> + + <p>He lit a cigarette and after a few puffs flung it into + the grate. He stared at the alternatives.</p> + + <p>Flight, which was craven—a lifetime of self-contempt. + Durdlebury, which was impossible. + Enlistment——?</p> + + <p>Yet what was a man incapable yet able-bodied, + honourable though disgraced, to do?</p> + + <p>His landlord found him at seven o’clock in the + morning asleep in an arm-chair.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_IX"><a class="pagenum" id="page114" title="114"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER IX</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">After</span> a bath and a change and breakfast, + Doggie went out for one of his solitary walks. + At Durdlebury such a night as the last would have + kept him in bed in a darkened room for most of the + following day. But he had spent many far, far worse + on Salisbury Plain, and the inexorable reveille had + dragged him out into the raw dreadful morning, + heedless of his headache and yearning for slumber, + until at last the process of hardening had begun. + To-day Doggie was as unfatigued a young man as + walked the streets of London, a fact which his mind + was too confusedly occupied to appreciate. Once + more was he beset less by the perplexities of the future + than by a sense of certain impending doom. For to + Phineas McPhail’s “Why not?” he had been able + to give no answer. He could give no answer now, as + he marched with swinging step, automatically, down + Oxford Street and the Bayswater Road in the direction + of Kensington Gardens. He could give no + answer as he stood sightlessly staring at the Peter + Pan statue.</p> + + <p>A one-armed man in a khaki cap and hospital blue + came and stood by his side and looked in a pleased + yet puzzled way at the exquisite poem in marble. + At last he spoke—in a rich Irish accent.</p> + + <p>“I beg your pardon, sir, but could you be telling + me the meaning of it, at all?”</p> + + <p>Doggie awoke and smiled.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page115" title="115"> </a>“Do you like it?”</p> + + <p>“I do,” said the soldier.</p> + + <p>“It is about Peter Pan. A kind of Fairy Tale. + You can see the ‘little people’ peeping out—I think + you call them so in Ireland.”</p> + + <p>“We do that,” said the soldier.</p> + + <p>So Doggie sketched the outline of the immortal + story of the Boy Who Will Never Grow Old, and the + Irishman listened with deep interest.</p> + + <p>“Indeed,” said he after a time, “it is good to come + back to the true things after the things out there.” + He waved his one arm in the vague direction of the + war.</p> + + <p>“Why do you call them true things?” Doggie + asked quickly.</p> + + <p>They turned away, and Doggie found himself + sitting on a bench by the man’s side.</p> + + <p>“It’s not me that can tell you that,” said he, “and + my wife and children in Galway.”</p> + + <p>“Were you there at the outbreak of war?”</p> + + <p>He was. A reservist called back to the colours + after some years of retirement from the army. He + had served in India and South Africa, a hard-bitten + soldier, proud of the traditions of his old regiment. + There were scarcely any of them left—and that was + all that was left of him. He smiled cheerily. Doggie + condoled with him on the loss of his arm.</p> + + <p>“Ah sure,” he replied, “and it might keep me out + of a fight when I go into Ballinasloe.”</p> + + <p>“Who would you want to fight?” asked Doggie.</p> + + <p>“The dirty Sinn Feiners that do be always shouting + ‘Freedom for Ireland and to hell with freedom + for the rest of the world.’ If I haven’t lost my arm + in a glorious cause, what have I lost it for? Can you + tell me that?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page116" title="116"> </a>Doggie agreed that he had fought for the greater + freedom of humanity and gave him a cigarette, and + they went on talking. The Irishman had been in + the retreat from Mons, the first battle of Ypres, and + he had lost his arm in no battle at all; just a stray + shell over the road as they were marching back to + billets. They discussed the war, the ethics of it. + Doggie still wanted to know why the realities of + blood and mud and destruction were not the true + things. Gradually he found that the Irishman meant + that the true things were the spiritual, undying things; + that the grim realities would pass away; that from + these dead realities would arise the noble ideals of + the future, which would be symbolized in song and + marble; that all he had endured and sacrificed was + but a part of the Great Sacrifice we were making + for the Freedom of the World. Being a man roughly + educated on a Galway farm and in an infantry regiment, + he had great difficulty in co-ordinating his ideas; + but he had a curious power of vision that enabled him + to pierce to the heart of things, which he interpreted + according to his untrained sense of beauty.</p> + + <p>They parted with expressions of mutual esteem. + Doggie struck across the Gardens with a view to + returning home by Knightsbridge, Piccadilly and + Shaftesbury Avenue. He strode along, his thoughts + filled with the Irish soldier. Here was a man, + maimed for life and quite content that it should be so, + who had reckoned all the horrors through which he + had passed as externals unworthy of the consideration + of his unconquerable soul; a man simple, unassuming, + expansive only through his Celtic temperament, + which allowed him to talk easily to a stranger + before whom his English or Scotch comrade would + have been dumb and gaping as an oyster; obviously + <a class="pagenum" id="page117" title="117"> </a>brave, sincere and loyal. Perhaps something even + higher. Perhaps, in essence, the very highest. The + Poet-Warrior. The term struck Doggie’s brain with + a thud, like the explosive fusion of two elements.</p> + + <p>During his walk to Kensington Gardens a poisonous + current had run at the back of his mind. Drifting + on it, might he not escape? Was he not of too fine + a porcelain to mingle with the coarse and common + pottery of the ranks? Was it necessary to go into the + thick of the coarse clay vessels, just to be shattered? + It was easy for Phineas to proclaim that he found no + derogation to his dignity as a man of birth and a + university graduate in identifying himself with his + fellow privates. Phineas had systematically brutalized + himself into fitness for the position. He had armed + himself in brass—<em lang="la" xml:lang="la">æs triplex</em>. He smiled at his own + wit. But he, James Marmaduke Trevor, who had + lived his life as a clean gentleman, was in a category + apart.</p> + + <p>Now, he found that his talk with the Irishman had + been an antidote to the poison. He felt ashamed. + Did he dare set himself up to be finer clay than that + common soldier? Spiritually, was he even of clay as + fine? In a Great Judgment of Souls which of the + twain would be among the Elect? The ultra-refined + Mr. Marmaduke Trevor of Denby Hall, or the ignorant + poet-warrior of Ballinasloe? “Not Doggie + Trevor,” he said between his teeth. And he went + home in a chastened spirit.</p> + + <p>Phineas McPhail appeared punctually at half-past + one, and feasted succulently on fried sole and sweetbread.</p> + + <p>“Laddie,” said he, “the man that can provide + such viands is a Thing of Beauty which, as the poet + says, is a Joy for Ever. The light in his window is + <a class="pagenum" id="page118" title="118"> </a>a beacon to the hungry Tommy dragging himself + through the viscous wilderness of regulation stew.”</p> + + <p>“I’m afraid it won’t be a beacon for very long,” + said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Eh?” queried Phineas sharply. “You’d surely + not be thinking of refusing an old friend a stray meal?”</p> + + <p>Doggie coloured at the coarseness of the misunderstanding.</p> + + <p>“How could I be such a brute? There won’t + be a light in the window because I shan’t be there. + I’m going to enlist.”</p> + + <p>Phineas put his elbows on the table and regarded + him earnestly.</p> + + <p>“I would not take too seriously words spoken in + the heat of midnight revelry, even though the revel + was conducted on the genteelest principles. Have + you thought of the matter in the cool and sober hours + of the morning?”</p> + + <p>“Yes.”</p> + + <p>“It’s an unco’ hard life, laddie.”</p> + + <p>“The one I’m leading is a harder,” said Doggie. + “I’ve made up my mind.”</p> + + <p>“Then I’ve one piece of advice to give you,” said + McPhail. “Sink the name of Marmaduke, which + would only stimulate the ignorant ribaldry of the canteen, + and adopt the name of James, which your godfathers + and godmothers, with miraculous foresight, + considering their limitations in the matter of common + sense, have given you.”</p> + + <p>“That’s a good idea,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Also it would tend to the obliteration of class + prejudices if you gave up smoking Turkish cigarettes + at ten shillings a hundred and arrived in your platoon + as an amateur of ‘fags.’”</p> + + <p>“I can’t stand ‘fags,’” said Doggie.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page119" title="119"> </a>“You can. The human organism is so constituted + that it can stand the sweepings of the elephants’ house + in the Zoological Gardens. Try. This time it’s only + ‘fags.’”</p> + + <p>Doggie took one from the crumpled paper packet + which was handed to him, and lit it. He made a + wry face, never before having smoked American + tobacco.</p> + + <p>“How do you like the flavour?” asked Phineas.</p> + + <p>“I think I’d prefer the elephants’ house,” said + Doggie, eyeing the thing with disgust.</p> + + <p>“You’ll find it the flavour of the whole British + Army,” said McPhail.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">A few days later the Dean received a letter bearing + the pencilled address of a camp on the south coast, and + written by 35792 Pvte. James M. Trevor, A Company, + 2-10th Wessex Rangers. It ran:</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>“I hope you won’t think me heartless for having + left you so long without news of me; but until lately + I had the same reasons for remaining in seclusion as + when I last wrote. Even now I’m not asking for + sympathy or reconsideration of my failure or desire + in any way to take advantage of the generosity of you + all.</p> + + <p>“I have enlisted in the 10th Wessex. Phineas + McPhail, whom I met in London and whose character + for good or evil I can better gauge now than formerly, + is a private in the same battalion. I don’t pretend + to enjoy the life any more than I could enjoy living in + a kraal of savages in Central Africa. But that is a + matter of no account. I don’t propose to return to + Durdlebury till the end of the war. I left it as an + officer and I’m not coming back as a private soldier. I + <a class="pagenum" id="page120" title="120"> </a>enclose a cheque for £500. Perhaps Aunt Sophia + will be so kind as to use the money—it ought to last + some time—for the general upkeep, wages, etc., of + Denby Hall. I feel sure she will not refuse me this + favour. Give Peggy my love and tell her I hope + she will accept the two-seater as a parting gift. It + will make me happier to know that she is driving it.</p> + + <p>“I am keeping on as a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pied à terre</em> in London the + Bloomsbury rooms in which I have been living, + and I’ve written to Peddle to see about making them + more comfortable. Please ask anybody who might + care to write to address me as ‘James M.’ and not + as ‘Marmaduke.’”</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>The Dean read the letter—the family were at + breakfast; then he took off his tortoise-shell spectacles + and wiped them.</p> + + <p>“It’s from Marmaduke at last,” said he. “He has + carried out my prophecy and enlisted.”</p> + + <p>Peggy caught at her breath and shot out her hand + for the letter, which she read eagerly and then passed + over to her mother. Mrs. Conover began to cry.</p> + + <p>“Oh, the poor boy! It will be worse than ever + for him.”</p> + + <p>“It will,” said Peggy. “But I think it splendid + of him to try. How did he bring himself to do it?”</p> + + <p>“Breed tells,” said the Dean. “That’s what + every one seems to have forgotten. He’s a thoroughbred + Doggie. There’s the old French proverb: + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bon chien chasse de race.</em>”</p> + + <p>Peggy looked at him gratefully. “You’re very + comforting,” she said.</p> + + <p>“We must knit him some socks,” observed Mrs. + Conover. “I hear those supplied to the army are + very rough and ready.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page121" title="121"> </a>“My dear,” smiled the Dean, “Marmaduke’s + considerable income does not cease because his pay in + the army is one and twopence a day; and I should + think he would have the sense to provide himself + with adequate underclothing. Also, judging from the + account of your shopping orgy in London, he has + already laid in a stock that would last out several + Antarctic winters.”</p> + + <p>The Dean tapped his egg gently.</p> + + <p>“Then what can we do for the poor boy?” asked + his wife.</p> + + <p>The Dean scooped the top of his egg off with a + vicious thrust.</p> + + <p>“We can cut out slanderous tongues,” said he.</p> + + <p>There had been much calumniating cackle in the + little town; nay, more: cackle is of geese; there + had been venom of the snakiest kind. The Deanery, + father and mother and daughter, each in their several + ways, had suffered greatly. It is hard to stand up against + poisoned ridicule.</p> + + <p>“My dear,” continued the Dean, “it will be our + business to smite the Philistines, hip and thigh. The + reasons which guided Marmaduke in the resignation + of his commission are the concern of nobody. The + fact remains that Mr. Marmaduke Trevor resigned + his commission in order to——”</p> + + <p>Peggy interrupted with a smile. “‘In order to’—isn’t + that a bit Jesuitical, daddy?”</p> + + <p>“I have a great respect for the Jesuits, my dear,” + said the Dean, holding out an impressive egg-spoon. + “The fact remains, in the eyes of the world, as I + remarked, that Mr. Marmaduke Trevor of Denby + Hall, a man of fortune and high position in the county, + resigned his commission in order, for reasons best + known to himself, to serve his country more effectively + <a class="pagenum" id="page122" title="122"> </a>in the humbler ranks of the army, and—my dear, + this egg is far too full for war time”—with a hazardous + plunge of his spoon he had made a yellow yelky + horror of the egg-shell—“and I’m going to proclaim + the fact far and wide, and—indeed—rub it in.”</p> + + <p>“That’ll be jolly decent of you, daddy,” said his + daughter. “It will help a lot.”</p> + + <p>In the failure of Marmaduke to retain his commission + the family honour had not been concerned. + The boy had done his best. They blamed not him + but the disastrous training that had unfitted him for + the command of men. They reproached themselves + for their haste in throwing him headlong into the + fiercest element of the national struggle towards + efficiency. They could have found an easier school, + in which he could have learned to do his share creditably + in the national work. Many young men of their + acquaintance, far more capable than Marmaduke, + were wearing the uniform of a less strenuous branch + of the service. It had been a blunder, a failure, but + without loss of honour. But when slanderous tongues + attacked poor Doggie for running away with a yelp + from a little hardship; when a story or two of Doggie’s + career in the regiment arrived in Durdlebury, highly + flavoured in transit and more and more poisoned as + it went from mouth to mouth; when a legend was + spread abroad that he had bolted from Salisbury + Plain and was run to earth in a Turkish Bath in + London, and was only saved from court-martial + by family influence, then the family honour of the + Conovers was wounded to its proud English depths. + And they could say nothing. They had only Doggie’s + word to go upon; they accepted it unquestioningly, + but they knew no details. Doggie had disappeared. + Naturally, they contradicted these evil rumours. + <a class="pagenum" id="page123" title="123"> </a>The good folks of Durdlebury expected them to do + so, and listened with well-bred incredulity. To the + question, “Where is he now and what is he going + to do?” they could only answer, “We don’t know.” + They were helpless.</p> + + <p>Peggy had a bitter quarrel with one of her intimates, + Nancy Murdoch, daughter of the doctor who had + proclaimed the soundness of Marmaduke’s constitution.</p> + + <p>“He may have told you so, dear,” said Nancy, + “but how do you know?”</p> + + <p>“Because whatever else he may be, he’s not a + liar,” retorted Peggy.</p> + + <p>Nancy gave the most delicate suspicion of a shrug + to her pretty shoulders.</p> + + <p>That was the beginning of it. Peggy, naturally + combative, armed for the fight and defended Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>“You talk as though you were still engaged to + him,” said Nancy.</p> + + <p>“So I am,” declared Peggy rashly.</p> + + <p>“Then where’s your engagement ring?”</p> + + <p>“Where I choose to keep it.”</p> + + <p>The retort lacked originality and conviction.</p> + + <p>“You can’t send it back to him, because you don’t + know where he is. And what did Mrs. Conover + mean by telling mother that Mr. Trevor had broken + off the engagement?”</p> + + <p>“She never told her any such thing,” cried Peggy + mendaciously. For Mrs. Conover had committed + the indiscretion under assurance of silence.</p> + + <p>“Pardon me,” said Nancy, much on her dignity. + “Of course I understand your denying it. It isn’t + pleasant to be thrown over by any man—but by a + man like Doggie Trevor——”</p> + + <p>“You’re a spiteful beast, Nancy, and I’ll never + <a class="pagenum" id="page124" title="124"> </a>speak to you again. You’ve neither womanly decency + nor Christian feeling.” And Peggy marched out + of the doctor’s house.</p> + + <p>As a result of the quarrel, however, she resumed + the wearing of the ring, which she flaunted defiantly + with left hand deliberately ungloved. Hitherto she + had not been certain of the continuance of the engagement. + Marmaduke’s repudiation was definite enough; + but it had been dictated by his sensitive honour. + It lay with her to agree or decline. She had passed + through wearisome days of doubt. A physically + sound fighting man sent about his business as being + unfit for war does not appear a romantic figure in a + girl’s eyes. She was bitterly disappointed with Doggie + for the sudden withering of her hopes. Had he + fulfilled them she could have loved him wholeheartedly, + after the simple way of women; for her + sex, exhilarated by the barbaric convulsion of the + land, clamoured for something heroic, something + at least intensely masculine, in which she could find + feminine exultation. She also felt resentment at his + flight from the Savoy, his silence and practical disappearance. + Although not blaming him unjustly, + she failed to realize the spiritual piteousness of his + plight. If the war has done anything in this country, + it has saved the young women of the gentler classes, + at any rate, from the abyss of sordid and cynical + materialism. Hesitating to announce the rupture + of the engagement, she allowed it to remain in a state + of suspended animation, and as a symbolic act, ceased + to wear the ring. Nancy’s taunts had goaded her to + a more heroic attitude. The first person to whom + she showed the newly-ringed hand was her mother.</p> + + <p>“The engagement isn’t off until I declare it’s off. + I’m going to play the game.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page125" title="125"> </a>“You know best, dear,” said the gentle Mrs. + Conover. “But it’s all very upsetting.”</p> + + <p>Then Doggie’s letter brought comfort and gladness + to the Deanery. It reassured them as to his fate. + It healed the wounded family honour. It justified + Peggy in playing the game.</p> + + <p>She took the letter round to Dr. Murdoch’s and + thrust it into the hand of an astonished Nancy, with + whom since the quarrel she had not been on speaking + terms.</p> + + <p>“This is in Marmaduke’s handwriting. You + recognize it. Just read the top line when I’ve folded + it. ‘I have enlisted in the 10th Wessex.’ See?” + She withdrew the letter. “Now, what could a man, + let alone an honourable gentleman, do more? Say + you’re sorry for having said beastly things about him.”</p> + + <p>Nancy, who had regretted the loss of a lifelong + friendship, professed her sorrow.</p> + + <p>“The least you can do then, is to go round and + spread the news, and say you’ve seen the letter with + your own eyes.”</p> + + <p>To several others, on a triumphant round of visits, + did she show the vindicating sentence. Any soft + young fool, she asserted, with the directness and not + unattractive truculence of her generation, can get a + commission and muddle through, but it took a man to + enlist as a private soldier.</p> + + <p>“Everybody recognizes now, darling,” said the + reconciled Nancy a few days later, “that Doggie + is a top-hole, splendid chap. But I think I ought + to tell you that you’re boring Durdlebury stiff.”</p> + + <p>Peggy laughed. It was good to be engaged to a + man no longer under a cloud.</p> + + <p>“It will all come right, dear old thing,” she wrote + to Doggie. “It’s a cinch, as the Americans say. + <a class="pagenum" id="page126" title="126"> </a>You’ll soon get used to it—especially if you can + realize what it means to me. ‘Saving face’ has been + an awful business. Now it’s all over. Of course, + I’ll accept the two-seater. I’ve had lessons in driving + since you went away—I had thoughts of going out + to France to drive Y.M.C.A. cars, but that’s off for + the present. I’ll love the two-seater. Swank won’t + be the word. But ‘a parting gift’ is all rot. The + engagement stands and all Durdlebury knows it…” + and so on, and so on. She set herself out, honestly, + loyally, to be the kindest girl in the world to Doggie. + Mrs. Conover happened to come into the drawing-room + just as she was licking the stamp. She thumped + it on the envelope with her palm and, looking round + from the writing-desk against the wall, showed her + mother a flushed and smiling face.</p> + + <p>“If anybody says I’m not good—the goodest + thing the cathedral has turned out for half a dozen + centuries—I’ll tear her horrid eyes out from their + sockets!”</p> + + <p>“My dear!” cried her horrified mother.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Doggie kept the letter unopened in his tunic pocket + until he could find solitude in which to read it. After + morning parade he wandered to the deserted trench + at the end of the camp, where the stuffed sacks, representing + German defenders, were hung for bayonet + practice. It was a noon of grey mist through which + the alignments of huts and tents were barely visible. + Instinctively avoiding the wet earth of the parados, + he went round, and, tired after the recent spell of + physical drill, sat down on the equally wet sandbags + of the model parapet, a pathetic, lonely little khaki + figure isolated for the moment by the kindly mist from + an uncomprehending world.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page127" title="127"> </a>He read Peggy’s letter several times. He recognized + her goodness, her loyalty. The grateful tears + even came to his eyes and he brushed them away hurriedly + with a swift look round. But his heart beat + none the faster. A long-faded memory of childhood + came back to him in regained colour. Some quarrel + with Peggy. What it was all about he had entirely + forgotten; but he remembered her little flushed face + and her angry words: “Well, I’m a sport and you + ain’t!” He remembered also rebuking her priggishly + for unintelligible language and mincing away. + He read the letter again in the light of this flash of + memory. The only difference between it and the + childish speech lay in the fact that instead of a declaration + of contrasts, she now uttered a declaration of + similitudes. They were both “sports.” There she + was wrong. Doggie shook his head. In her sense + of the word he was not a “sport.” A sport takes + chances, plays the game with a smile on his lips. + There was no smile on his. He loathed the game with + a sickening, shivering loathing. He was engaged in + it because a conglomeration of irresistible forces had + driven him into the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mêlée</em>. It never occurred to + Doggie that he was under orders of his own soul. + This simple yet stupendous fact never occurred to + Peggy.</p> + + <p>He sat on the wet sandbags and thought and thought. + Though he reproached himself for base ingratitude, + the letter did not satisfy him. It left his heart cold. + What he sought in it he did not know. It was something + he could not find, something that was not + there. The sea-mist thickened around him. Peggy + seemed very far away…. He was still engaged + to her—for it would be monstrous to persist in his + withdrawal. He must accept the situation which + <a class="pagenum" id="page128" title="128"> </a>she decreed. He owed that to her loyalty. But + how to continue the correspondence? It was hard + enough to write from Salisbury Plain; from here it + was well-nigh impossible.</p> + + <p>Thus was Doggie brought up against a New Problem. + He struggled desperately to defer its solution.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_X"><a class="pagenum" id="page129" title="129"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER X</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> regiments of the new armies have gathered + into their rank and file a mixed crowd transcending + the dreams of Democracy. At one end of + the social scale are men of refined minds and gentle + nurture, at the other creatures from the slums, with + slum minds and morals, and between them the whole + social gamut is run. Experience seems to show that + neither of the extreme elements tend, in the one case + to elevate, or in the other to debase the battalion. + Leading the common life, sharing the common hardships, + striving towards common ideals, they inevitably, + irresistibly tend to merge themselves in the average. + The highest in the scale sink, the lowest rise. The + process, as far as the change of soul state is concerned, + is infinitely more to the amelioration of the lowest + than to the degradation of the highest. The one, also, + is more real, the other more apparent. In the one + case, it is merely the shuffling-off of manners, of habits, + of prejudices, and the assuming of others horribly distasteful + or humorously accepted, according to temperament; + in the other case, it is an enforced education. + And all the congeries of human atoms that make up + the battalion, learn new and precious lessons and + acquire new virtues—patience, obedience, courage, + endurance…. But from the point of view of a + decorous tea-party in a cathedral town, the tone—or + the standard of manners, or whatever you would like + by way of definition of that vague and comforting + <a class="pagenum" id="page130" title="130"> </a>word—the tone of the average is deplorably low. The + hooligan may be kicked for excessive foulness; but + the rider of the high horse is brutally dragged down + into the mire. The curious part of it all is that, the + gutter element being eliminated altogether, the corporate + standard of the remaining majority is lower + than the standard of each individual.</p> + + <p>By developing a philosophical disquisition on some + such lines did Phineas McPhail seek to initiate Doggie + into the weird mysteries of the new social life. Doggie + heard with his ears, but thought in terms of Durdlebury + tea-parties. Nowhere in the mass could he find + the spiritual outlook of his Irish poet-warrior. The + individuals that may have had it kept it preciously to + themselves. The outlook, as conveyed in speech, was + grossly materialistic. From the language of the canteen + he recoiled in disgust. He could not reconcile it + with the nobler attributes of the users. It was in vain + for Phineas to plead that he must accept the <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">lingua + franca</em> of the British Army like all other things appertaining + thereto. Doggie’s stomach revolted against + most of the other things. The disregard (from his + point of view) of personal cleanliness universal in the + ranks, filled him with dismay. Even on Salisbury + Plain he had managed to get a little hot water for his + morning tub. Here, save in the officers’ quarters—curiously + remote, inaccessible paradise!—there was not + such a thing as a tub in the place, let alone hot water + to fill it. The men never dreamed of such a thing + as a tub. As a matter of fact, they were scrupulously + clean according to the lights of the British Tommy; + but the lights were not those of Marmaduke Trevor. + He had learned the supreme wisdom of keeping lips + closed on such matters and did not complain, but all + his fastidiousness rebelled. He hated the sluice of head + <a class="pagenum" id="page131" title="131"> </a>and shoulders with water from a bucket in the raw + open air. His hands swelled, blistered and cracked; + and his nails, once so beautifully manicured, grew + rich black rims, and all the icy water in the buckets + would not remove the grime.</p> + + <p>Now and then he went into the town and had a hot + bath; but very few of the others ever seemed to think + of such a thing. The habit of the British Army of + going to bed in its day-shirt was peculiarly repellent. + Yet Doggie knew that to vary from the sacred ways + of his fellow-men was to bring disaster on his head.</p> + + <p>Some of the men slept under canvas still. But + Doggie, fortunately as he reckoned (for he had begun + to appreciate fine shades in misery), was put with a + dozen others in a ramshackle hut of which the woodwork + had warped and let in the breezes above, below, + and all round the sides. Doggie, though dismally cold, + welcomed the air for obvious reasons. They were + fortunate, too, in having straw palliasses—recently provided + when it was discovered that sleeping on badly + boarded floors with fierce draughts blowing upwards + along human spines was strangely fatal to human + bodies—but Doggie found his bed very hard lying. + And it smelt sour and sickly. For nights, in spite + of fatigue, he could not sleep. His mates sang and + talked and bandied jests and sarcasms of esoteric meaning. + Some of the recruits from factories or farms + satirized their officers for peculiarities common to + their social caste and gave grotesque imitations of their + mode of speech. Doggie wondered, but held his peace. + The deadly stupidity and weariness of it all! And + when the talk stopped and they settled to sleep, the + snorings and mutterings and coughings began and kept + poor Doggie awake most of the night. The irremediable, + intimate propinquity with coarse humanity + <a class="pagenum" id="page132" title="132"> </a>oppressed him. He would have given worlds to go + out, even into the pouring rain, and walk about the + camp or sleep under a hedge, so long as he could be + alone. And he would think longingly of his satinwood + bedroom, with its luxurious bed and lavender-scented + sheets, and of his beloved peacock and ivory + room and its pictures and exquisite furniture and + the great fire roaring up the chimney, and devise + intricate tortures for the Kaiser who had dragged + him down to this squalor.</p> + + <p>The meals—the rough cooking, the primitive + service—the table manners of his companions, offended + his delicate senses. He missed napkins. Never could + he bring himself to wipe his mouth with the back of + his hand and the back of his hand on the seat of his + trousers. Nor could he watch with equanimity an + honest soul pick his teeth with his little finger. But + Doggie knew that acquiescence was the way of happiness + and protest the way of woe.</p> + + <p>At first he made few acquaintances beyond those + with whom he was intimately associated. It seemed + more politic to obey his instincts and remain unobtrusive + in company and drift away inoffensively when + the chance occurred. One of the men with whom + he talked occasionally was a red-headed little cockney + by the name of Shendish. For some reason or the + other—perhaps because his name conveyed a perfectly + wrong suggestion of the Hebraic—he was always + called “Mo” Shendish.</p> + + <p>“Don’t yer wish yer was back, mate?” he asked + one day, having waited to speak till Doggie had + addressed and stamped a letter which he was writing + at the end of the canteen table.</p> + + <p>“Where?” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“’Ome, sweet ’ome. In the family castle, where + <a class="pagenum" id="page133" title="133"> </a>gilded footmen ’ands sausage and mash about on trays + and quarts of beer all day long. I do.”</p> + + <p>“You’re a lucky chap to have a castle,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>Mo Shendish grinned. He showed little yellow + teeth beneath a little red moustache.</p> + + <p>“I ain’t ’alf got one,” said he. “It’s in Mare + Street, Hackney. I wish I was there now.”</p> + + <p>He sighed, and in an abstracted way he took a half-smoked + cigarette from behind his ear and relit it.</p> + + <p>“What were yer before yer joined? Yer look like a + clerk.” He pronounced it as if it were spelt with a “u.”</p> + + <p>“Something of the sort,” replied Doggie cautiously.</p> + + <p>“One can always tell you eddicated blokes. Making + your five quid a week easy, I suppose?”</p> + + <p>“About that,” said Doggie. “What were you?”</p> + + <p>“I was making my thirty bob a week regular. I + was in the fish business, I was. And now I’m + serving my ruddy country at one and twopence a day. + Funny life, ain’t it?”</p> + + <p>“I can’t say it’s very enjoyable,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Not the same as sitting in a snug orfis all day with + a pen in your lily-white ’and, and going ’ome to your + ’igh tea in a top ’at. What made you join up?”</p> + + <p>“The force of circumstances,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Same ’ere,” said Mo; “only I couldn’t put it + into such fancy language. First my pals went out + one after the other. Then the gels began to look + saucy at me, and at last one particular bit of skirt + what I’d been walking out with took to promenading + with a blighter in khaki. It’d have been silly of me + to go and knock his ’ead off, so I enlisted. And it’s + all right now.”</p> + + <p>“Just the same sort of thing in my case,” replied + Doggie. “I’m glad things are right with the young + lady.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page134" title="134"> </a>“First class. She’s straight, she is, and no mistake + abaht it. She’s a——”</p> + + <p>He paused for a word to express the inexpressive + she.</p> + + <p>“—A paragon—a peach?”—Doggie corrected + himself. Then, as the sudden frown of perplexed + suspicion was swiftly replaced by a grin of content, + he was struck by a bright idea.</p> + + <p>“What’s her name?”</p> + + <p>“Aggie. What’s yours?”</p> + + <p>“Gladys,” replied Doggie with miraculous readiness + of invention.</p> + + <p>“I’ve got her photograph,” Shendish confided in + a whisper, and laid his hand on his tunic pocket. + Then he looked round at the half-filled canteen to + see that he was unobserved. “You won’t give me + away if I show it yer, will yer?”</p> + + <p>Doggie swore secrecy. The photograph of Aggie, + an angular, square-browed damsel, who looked as + though she could guide the most recalcitrant of fishmongers + into the paths of duty, was produced and + thrust into Doggie’s hand. He inspected it with + polite appreciation, while his red-headed friend regarded + him with fatuous anxiety.</p> + + <p>“Charming! charming!” said Doggie in his + pleasantest way. “What’s her colouring?”</p> + + <p>“Fair hair and blue eyes,” said Shendish.</p> + + <p>The kindly question, half idle yet unconsciously + tactful, was one of those human things which cost + so little but are worth so much. It gave Doggie a + devoted friend.</p> + + <p>“Mo,” said he, a day or two later, “you’re such + a decent chap. Why do you use such abominable + language?”</p> + + <p>“Gawd knows,” smiled Mo, unabashed. “I + <a class="pagenum" id="page135" title="135"> </a>suppose it’s friendly like.” He wrinkled his brow in + thought for an instant. “That’s where I think + you’re making a mistake, old pal, if you don’t mind + my mentioning it. I know what yer are, but the + others don’t. You’re not friendly enough. See + what I mean? Supposin’ you say as you would in + a city restoorang when you’re ’aving yer lunch, ‘Will + yer kindly pass me the salt?’—well, that’s standoffish—they + say ‘Come off it! ‘But if you look about + and say, ‘Where’s the b——y salt?’ that’s friendly. + They understand. They chuck it at you.”</p> + + <p>Said Doggie, “It’s very—I mean b——y—difficult.”</p> + + <p>So he tried to be friendly; and if he met with no + great positive success, he at least escaped animosity. + In his spare time he mooned about by himself, shy, + disgusted, and miserable. Once, when a group of + men were kicking a football about, the ball rolled his + way. Instead of kicking it back to the expectant + players, he picked it up and advanced to the nearest + and handed it to him politely.</p> + + <p>“Thanks, mate,” said the astonished man, “but + why didn’t you kick it?”</p> + + <p>He turned away without waiting for a reply. + Doggie had not kicked it because he had never kicked + a football in his life and shrank from an exhibition of + incompetence.</p> + + <p>At drill things were easier than on Salisbury Plain, + his actions being veiled in the obscurity of squad or + platoon or company. Many others besides himself + were cursed by sergeants and rated by subalterns and + drastically entreated by captains. He had the consolation + of community in suffering. As a trembling + officer he had been the only one, the only one marked + and labelled as a freak apart, the only one stuck in the + <a class="pagenum" id="page136" title="136"> </a>eternal pillory. Here were fools and incapables even + more dull and ineffective than he. A plough-boy + fellow-recruit from Dorsetshire, Pugsley by name, + did not know right from left, and having mastered the + art of forming fours, could not get into his brain the + reverse process of forming front. He wept under the + lash of the corporal’s tongue; and to Doggie these + tears were healing dews of Heaven’s distillation. + By degrees he learned the many arts of war as taught + to the private soldier in England. He could refrain + from shutting his eyes when he pressed the trigger + of his rifle, but to the end of his career his shooting + was erratic. He could perform with the weapon + the other tricks of precision. Unencumbered he + could march with the best. The torture of the + heavy pack nearly killed him; but in time, as his + muscles developed, he was able to slog along under the + burden. He even learned to dig. That was the + worst and most back-breaking art of all.</p> + + <p>Now and then Phineas McPhail and himself would + get together and walk into the little seaside town. It + was out of the season and there was little to look + at save the deserted shops and the squall-fretted pier + and the maidens of the place who usually were in + company with lads in khaki. Sometimes a girl alone + would give Doggie a glance of shy invitation, for Doggie + in his short slight way was not a bad-looking + fellow, carrying himself well and wearing his uniform + with instinctive grace. But the damsel ogled in vain.</p> + + <p>On one such occasion Phineas burst into a guffaw.</p> + + <p>“Why don’t you talk to the poor body? She’s a + respectable girl enough. Where’s the harm?”</p> + + <p>“Go ‘square-pushing’?” said Doggie contemptuously, + using the soldiers’ slang for walking about with + a young woman. “No, thank you.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page137" title="137"> </a>“And why not? I’m not counselling you, laddie, + to plunge into a course of sensual debauchery. But + a wee bit gossip with a pretty innocent girl——”</p> + + <p>“My dear good chap,” Doggie interrupted, “what + on earth should I have in common with her?”</p> + + <p>“Youth.”</p> + + <p>“I feel as old as hell,” said Doggie bitterly.</p> + + <p>“You’ll be feeling older soon,” replied Phineas, + “and able to look down on hell with feelings of + superiority.”</p> + + <p>Doggie walked on in silence for a few paces. Then + he said:</p> + + <p>“A thing I can’t understand is this mania for + picking up girls—just to walk about the streets with + them. It’s so inane. It’s a disease.”</p> + + <p>“Did you ever consider,” said Phineas, “how in + a station less exalted than that which you used to + adorn, the young of opposite sexes manage to meet, + select and marry? Man, the British Army’s going + to be a grand education for you in sociology.”</p> + + <p>“Well, at any rate, you don’t suppose I’m going + to select and marry out of the street?”</p> + + <p>“You might do worse,” said Phineas. Then, + after a slight pause, he asked: “Have you any news + lately from Durdlebury?”</p> + + <p>“Confound Durdlebury!” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>Phineas checked him with one hand and waved + the other towards a hostelry on the other side of the + street. “If you will give me the money in advance, + so as to evade the ungenerous spirit of the no-treating + law, you can stand me a quart of ale at the Crown and + Sceptre and join me in drinking to its confusion.”</p> + + <p>So they entered the saloon bar of the public-house. + Doggie drank a glass of beer while Phineas swallowed + a couple of pints. Two or three other soldiers were + <a class="pagenum" id="page138" title="138"> </a>there, in whose artless talk McPhail joined lustily. + Doggie, unobtrusive at the end of the bar, maintained + a desultory and uncomfortable conversation with the + barmaid, who was of the florid and hearty type, about + the weather.</p> + + <p>Some days later, McPhail again made allusion to + Durdlebury. Doggie again confounded it.</p> + + <p>“I don’t want to hear of it or think of it,” he + exclaimed, in his nervous way, “until this filthy + horror is over. They want me to get leave and go + down and stay. They’re making my life miserable + with kindness. I wish they’d let me alone. They + don’t understand a little bit. I want to get through + this thing alone, all by myself.”</p> + + <p>“I’m sorry I persuaded you to join a regiment in + which you were inflicted with the disadvantage of my + society,” said Phineas.</p> + + <p>Doggie threw out an impatient arm. “Oh, you + don’t count,” said he.</p> + + <p>A few minutes afterwards, repenting his brusqueness, + he tried to explain to Phineas why he did not + count. The others knew nothing about him. Phineas + knew everything.</p> + + <p>“And you know everything about Phineas,” said + McPhail grimly. “Ay, ay, laddie,” he sighed, + “I ken it all. When you’re in Tophet, a sympathetic + Tophetuan with a wee drop of the milk of human + kindness is more comfort than a radiant angel who + showers down upon you, from the celestial Fortnum + and Mason’s, potted shrimps and caviare.”</p> + + <p>The sombreness cleared for a moment from Doggie’s + young brow.</p> + + <p>“I never can make up my mind, Phineas,” said he, + “whether you’re a very wise man or an awful fraud.”</p> + + <p>“Give me the benefit of the doubt, laddie,” replied + <a class="pagenum" id="page139" title="139"> </a>McPhail. “It’s the grand theological principle of + Christianity.”</p> + + <p>Time went on. The regiment was moved to the East + Coast. On the journey a Zeppelin raid paralysed + the railway service. Doggie spent the night under the + lee of the bookstall at Waterloo Station. Men huddled + up near him, their heads on their kit-bags, slept and + snored. Doggie almost wept with pain and cold and + hatred of the Kaiser. On the East Coast much the + same life as on the South, save that the wind, as if + Hun-sent, found its way more savagely to the skin.</p> + + <p>Then suddenly came the news of a large draft for + France, which included both McPhail and Shendish. + They went away on leave. The gladness with which + he welcomed their return showed Doggie how great + a part they played in his new life. In a day or two + they would depart God knew whither, and he would + be left in dreadful loneliness. Through him the two + men, the sentimental Cockney fishmonger and the + wastrel Cambridge graduate, had become friends. + He spent with them all his leisure time.</p> + + <p>Then one of the silly tragi-comedies of life occurred. + McPhail got drunk in the crowded bar of a little + public-house in the village. It was the last possible + drink together of the draft and their pals. The draft + was to entrain before daybreak on the morrow. It + was a foolish, singing, shouting khaki throng. McPhail, + who had borrowed ten pounds from Doggie, + in order to see him through the hardships of the Front, + established himself close by the bar and was drinking + whisky. He was also distributing surreptitious sixpences + and shillings into eager hands, which would + convert them into alcohol for eager throats. Doggie, + anxious, stood by his side. The spirit from which + McPhail had for so long abstained, mounted to his + <a class="pagenum" id="page140" title="140"> </a>unaccustomed brain. He began to hector, and, master + of picturesque speech, he compelled an admiring + audience. Doggie did not realize the extent of his + drunkenness until, vaunting himself as a Scot and + therefore the salt of the army, he picked a quarrel + with a stolid Hampshire giant, who professed to have + no use for Phineas’s fellow-countrymen. The men + closed. Suddenly some one shouted from the doorway:</p> + + <p>“Be quiet, you fools! The A.P.M.’s coming + down the road.”</p> + + <p>Now the Assistant Provost Marshal, if he heard + hell’s delight going on in a tavern, would naturally + make an inquisitorial appearance. The combatants + were separated. McPhail threw a shilling on the + bar counter and demanded another whisky. He was + about to lift the glass to his lips when Doggie, terrified + as to what might happen, knocked the glass out of his + hand.</p> + + <p>“Don’t be an ass,” he cried.</p> + + <p>Phineas was very drunk. He gazed at his old + pupil, took off his cap, and, stretching over the bar, + hung it on the handle of a beer-pull. Then, staggering + back, he pointed an accusing finger.</p> + + <p>“He has the audacity to call me an ass. Little + blinking Marmaduke Doggie Trevor. Little Doggie + Trevor, whom I trained up from infancy in the way + he shouldn’t go——”</p> + + <p>“Why Doggie Trevor?” some one shouted in + inquiry.</p> + + <p>“Never mind,” replied Phineas with drunken + impressiveness. “My old friend Marmaduke has + spilled my whisky and called me an ass. I call him + Doggie, little Doggie Trevor. You all bear witness + he knocked the drink out of my mouth. I’ll never + forgive him. He doesn’t like being called Doggie—and + <a class="pagenum" id="page141" title="141"> </a>I’ve no—no pred’lex’n to be called an ass. I’ll + be thinking I’m going just to strangle him.”</p> + + <p>He struck out his bony claws towards the shrinking + Doggie; but stout arms closed round him and + a horny hand was clamped over his mouth, and they + got him through the bar and the back parlour into + the yard, where they pumped water on his head. + And when the A.P.M. and his satellites passed by, + the quiet of The Whip in Hand was the holy peace + of a nunnery.</p> + + <p>Doggie and Mo Shendish and a few other staunch + souls got McPhail back to quarters without much + trouble. On parting, the delinquent, semi-sobered, + shook Doggie by the hand and smiled with an air of + great affection.</p> + + <p>“I’ve been verra drunk, laddie. And I’ve been + angry with you for the first time in my life. But + when you knocked the glass out of my hand I thought + you were in danger of losing your good manners in + the army. We’ll have many a pow-wow together + when you join me out there.”</p> + + <p>The matter would have drifted out of Doggie’s + mind as one of no importance had not the detested + appellation by which Phineas hailed him struck the + imagination of his comrades. It filled a long-felt + want, no nickname for Private J. M. Trevor having + yet been invented. Doggie Trevor he was and Doggie + Trevor he remained for the rest of his period of service. + He resigned himself to the inevitable. The sting had + gone out of the name through his comrades’ ignorance + of its origin. But he loathed it as much as ever; it + sounded in his ears an everlasting reproach.</p> + + <p>In spite of the ill turn done in drunkenness, Doggie + missed McPhail. He missed Mo Shendish, his more + constant companion, even more. Their place was in + <a class="pagenum" id="page142" title="142"> </a>some degree taken, or rather usurped, for it was without + Doggie’s volition, by “Taffy” Jones, once clerk to + a firm of outside bookmakers. As Doggie had never + seen a racecourse, had never made a bet, and was + entirely ignorant of the names even of famous Derby + winners, Taffy regarded him as an astonishing freak + worth the attention of a student of human nature. + He began to cultivate Doggie’s virgin mind by aid of + reminiscence, and of such racing news as was to + be found in the <cite>Sportsman</cite>. He was a garrulous + person and Doggie a good listener. To please him + Doggie backed horses, through the old firm, for small + sums. The fact of his being a man of large independent + means both he and Phineas (to his credit) had kept + a close secret, his clerkly origin divined and promulgated + by Mo Shendish being unquestioningly accepted, so + the bets proposed by Taffy were of a modest nature. + Once he brought off a forty to one chance. Taffy + rushed to him with the news, dancing with excitement. + Doggie’s stoical indifference to the winning of twenty + pounds, a year’s army pay, gave him cause for great + wonder. As Doggie showed similar equanimity when + he lost, Taffy put him down as a born sportsman. + He began to admire him tremendously.</p> + + <p>This friendship with Taffy is worth special record, + for it was indirectly the cause of a little revolution in + Doggie’s regimental life. Taffy was an earnest though + indifferent performer on the penny whistle. It was + his constant companion, the solace of his leisure moments + and one of the minor tortures of Doggie’s + existence. His version of the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Marseillaise</em> was + peculiarly excruciating.</p> + + <p>One day, when Taffy was playing it with dreadful + variations of his own to an admiring group in the + Y.M.C.A. hut, Doggie, his nerves rasped to the raw + <a class="pagenum" id="page143" title="143"> </a>by the false notes and maddening intervals, snatched + it out of his hand and began to play himself. Hitherto, + shrinking morbidly from any form of notoriety, he + had shown no sign of musical accomplishment. But + to-day the musician’s impulse was irresistible. He + played the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Marseillaise</em> as no one there had heard it + on penny whistle before. The hut recognized a + master’s touch, for Doggie was a fine executant + musician. When he stopped there was a roar: “Go + on!” Doggie went on. They kept him whistling + till the hut was crowded.</p> + + <p>Thenceforward he was penny-whistler, by excellence, + to the battalion. He whistled himself into + quite a useful popularity.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XI"><a class="pagenum" id="page144" title="144"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XI</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">“We’re</span> all very proud of you, Marmaduke,” + said the Dean.</p> + + <p>“I think you’re just splendid,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>They were sitting in Doggie’s rooms in Woburn + Place, Doggie having been given his three days’ leave + before going to France. Once again Durdlebury had + come to Doggie and not Doggie to Durdlebury. + Aunt Sophia, however, somewhat ailing, had stayed + at home.</p> + + <p>Doggie stood awkwardly before them, conscious of + swollen hands and broken nails, shapeless ammunition + boots and ill-fitting slacks; morbidly conscious, too, + of his original failure.</p> + + <p>“You’re about ten inches more round the chest + than you were,” said the Dean admiringly.</p> + + <p>“And the picture of health,” cried Peggy.</p> + + <p>“For anyone who has a sound constitution,” + answered Doggie, “it is quite a healthy life.”</p> + + <p>“Now that you’ve got into the way, I’m sure you + must really love it,” said Peggy with an encouraging + smile.</p> + + <p>“It isn’t so bad,” he replied.</p> + + <p>“What none of us can quite understand, my dear + fellow,” said the Dean, “is your shying at Durdlebury. + As we have written you, everybody’s singing your + praises. Not a soul but would have given you a + hearty welcome.”</p> + + <p>“Besides,” Peggy chimed in, “you needn’t have + <a class="pagenum" id="page145" title="145"> </a>made an exhibition of yourself in the town if you didn’t + want to. The poor Peddles are woefully disappointed.”</p> + + <p>“There’s a war going on. They must bear up—like + lots of other people,” replied Doggie.</p> + + <p>“He’s becoming quite cynical,” Peggy laughed. + “But, apart from the Peddles, there’s your own + beautiful house waiting for you. It seems so funny + not to go to it, instead of moping in these fusty lodgings.”</p> + + <p>“Perhaps,” said Doggie quietly, “if I went there + I should never want to come back.”</p> + + <p>“There’s something to be said from that point of + view,” the Dean admitted. “A solution of continuity + is never quite without its dangers. Even Oliver + confessed as much.”</p> + + <p>“Oliver?”</p> + + <p>“Yes, didn’t Peggy tell you?”</p> + + <p>“I didn’t think Marmaduke would be interested,” + said Peggy quickly. “He and Oliver have never + been what you might call bosom friends.”</p> + + <p>“I shouldn’t have minded about hearing of him,” + said Doggie. “Why should I? What’s he doing?”</p> + + <p>The Dean gave information. Oliver, now a captain, + had come home on leave a month ago, and had + spent some of it at the Deanery. He had seen a good + deal of fighting, and had one or two narrow escapes.</p> + + <p>“Was he keen to get back?” asked Doggie.</p> + + <p>The Dean smiled. “I instanced his case in my + remark as to the dangers of the solution of + continuity.”</p> + + <p>“Oh, rubbish, daddy,” cried his daughter, with a + flush, “Oliver is as keen as mustard.” The Dean + made a little gesture of submission. She continued. + “He doesn’t like the beastliness out there for its own + sake, any more than Marmaduke will. But he simply + <a class="pagenum" id="page146" title="146"> </a>loves his job. He has improved tremendously. Once + he thought he was the only man in the country who + had seen Life stark naked, and he put on frills accordingly + Now that he’s just one of a million who have + been up against Life stripped to its skeleton, he’s a bit + subdued.”</p> + + <p>“I’m glad of that,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>The Dean, urbanely indulgent, joined his fingertips + together and smiled. “Peggy is right,” said he, + “although I don’t wholly approve of her modern + lack of reticence in metaphor. Oliver is coming out + true gold from the fire. He’s a capital fellow. And + he spoke of you, my dear Marmaduke, in the kindest + way in the world. He has a tremendous admiration + for your pluck.”</p> + + <p>“That’s very good of him, I’m sure,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>Presently the Dean—good, tactful man—discovered + that he must go out and have a prescription made up + at a chemist’s. That arch-Hun enemy, the gout, + against which he must never be unprepared. He + would be back in time for dinner. The engaged + couple were left alone.</p> + + <p>“Well?” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>“Well, dear?” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>Her lips invited. He responded. She drew him + to the saddle-bag sofa, and they sat down side by side.</p> + + <p>“I quite understand, dear old thing,” she said. “I + know the resignation and the rest of it hurt you + awfully. It hurt me. But it’s no use grousing over + spilt milk. You’ve already mopped it all up. It’s + no disgrace to be a private. It’s an honour. There + are thousands of gentlemen in the ranks. Besides—you’ll + work your way up and they’ll offer you another + commission in no time.”</p> + + <p>“You’re very good and sweet, dear,” said Doggie, + <a class="pagenum" id="page147" title="147"> </a>“to have such faith in me. But I’ve had a year——”</p> + + <p>“A year!” cried Peggy. “Good lord! so it is.” + She counted on her fingers. “Not quite. But eleven + months. It’s eleven months since I’ve seen you. Do + you realize that? The war has put a stop to time. + It is just one endless day.”</p> + + <p>“One awful, endless day,” Doggie acquiesced with + a smile. “But I was saying—I’ve had a year, or an + endless day of eleven months, in which to learn myself. + And what I don’t know about myself isn’t knowledge.”</p> + + <p>Peggy interrupted with a laugh. “You must be + a wonder. Dad’s always preaching about self-knowledge. + Tell me all about it.”</p> + + <p>Doggie shook his head, at the same time passing + his hand over it in a familiar gesture.</p> + + <p>Then Peggy cried:</p> + + <p>“I knew there was something wrong with you. + Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve had your hair cut—cut + quite differently.”</p> + + <p>It was McPhail, careful godfather, who had taken + him as a recruit to the regimental barber and prescribed + a transformation from the sleek long hair brushed + back over the head to a conventional military crop + with a rudiment of a side parting. On the crown a + few bristles stood up as if uncertain which way to go.</p> + + <p>“It’s advisable,” Doggie replied, “for a Tommy’s + hair to be cut as short as possible. The Germans are + sheared like convicts.”</p> + + <p>Peggy regarded him open-eyed and puzzle-browed. + He enlightened her no further, but pursued the main + proposition.</p> + + <p>“I wouldn’t take a commission,” said he, “if the + War Office went mad and sank on its knees and beat + its head in the dust before me.”</p> + + <p>“In Heaven’s name, why not?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page148" title="148"> </a>“I’ve learned my place in the world,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>Peggy shook him by the shoulder and turned on + him her young eager face.</p> + + <p>“Your place in the world is that of a cultivated + gentleman of old family, Marmaduke Trevor of Denby + Hall.”</p> + + <p>“That was the funny old world,” said he, “that + stood on its legs—legs wide apart with its hands beneath + the tails of its dress-coat, in front of the drawing-room + fire. The present world’s standing on its head. + Everything’s upside-down. It has no sort of use for + Marmaduke Trevor of Denby Hall. No more use + than for Goliath. By the way, how is the poor + little beast getting on?”</p> + + <p>Peggy laughed. “Oh, Goliath is perfectly assured + of his position. He has got it rammed into his mind + that he drives the two-seater.” She returned to the + attack. “Do you intend always to remain a private?”</p> + + <p>“I do,” said he. “Not even a corporal. You + see, I’ve learned to be a private of sorts, and that + satisfies my ambition.”</p> + + <p>“Well, I give it up,” said Peggy. “Though why + you wouldn’t let dad get you a nice cushy job is + a thing I can’t understand. For the life of me I + can’t.”</p> + + <p>“I’ve made my bed, and I must lie on it,” he said + quietly.</p> + + <p>“I don’t believe you’ve got such a thing as a bed.”</p> + + <p>Doggie smiled. “Oh yes, a bed of a sort.” Then + noting her puzzled face, he said consolingly: “It’ll + all come right when the war’s over.”</p> + + <p>“But when will that be? And who knows, my + dear man, what may happen to you?”</p> + + <p>“If I’m knocked out, I’m knocked out, and there’s + an end of it,” replied Doggie philosophically.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page149" title="149"> </a>She put her hand on his. “But what’s to become + of me?”</p> + + <p>“We needn’t cry over my corpse yet,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>The Dean, after awhile, returned with his bottle + of medicine, which he displayed with conscientious + ostentation. They dined. Peggy again went over + the ground of the possible commission.</p> + + <p>“I’m afraid she has set her heart on it, my boy,” + said the Dean.</p> + + <p>Peggy cried a little on parting. This time Doggie + was going, not to the fringe, but to the heart of the + Great Adventure. Into the thick of the carnage. A + year ago, she said, through her tears, she would have + thought herself much more fitted for it than Marmaduke.</p> + + <p>“Perhaps you are still, dear,” said Doggie, with + his patient smile.</p> + + <p>He saw them to the taxi which was to take them + to the familiar Sturrocks’s. Before getting in, Peggy + embraced him.</p> + + <p>“Keep out of the way of shells and bullets as much + as you can.”</p> + + <p>The Dean blew his nose, God-blessed him, and + murmured something incoherent about fighting for the + glory of old England.</p> + + <p>“Good luck,” cried Peggy from the window.</p> + + <p>She blew him a kiss. The taxi drove off, and Doggie + went back into the house with leaden feet. The + meeting, which he had morbidly dreaded, had brought + him no comfort. It had not removed the invisible + barrier between Peggy and himself. But Peggy + seemed so unconscious of it that he began to wonder + whether it only existed in his diseased imagination. + Though by his silences and reserves he had given her + cause for resentment and reproach, her attitude was + <a class="pagenum" id="page150" title="150"> </a>nothing less than angelic. He sat down moodily in + an arm-chair, his hands deep in his trousers pockets and + his legs stretched out. The fault lay in himself, he + argued. What was the matter with him? He seemed + to have lost all human feeling, like the man with the + stone heart in the old legend. Otherwise, why had + he felt no prick of jealousy at Peggy’s admiring comprehension + of Oliver? Of course he loved her. Of + course he wanted to marry her when this nightmare + was over. That went without saying. But why + couldn’t he look to the glowing future? A poet had + called a lover’s mistress “the lode-star of his one + desire.” That to him Peggy ought to be. Lode-star. + One desire. The words confused him. He + had no lode-star. His one desire was to be left alone. + Without doubt he was suffering from some process + of moral petrifaction.</p> + + <p>Doggie was no psychologist. He had never acquired + the habit of turning himself inside-out and gloating + over the horrid spectacle. All his life he had been + a simple soul with simple motives and a simple though + possibly selfish standard to measure them. But now + his soul was knocked into a chaotic state of complexity, + and his poor little standards were no manner of use. + He saw himself as in a glass darkly, mystified by + unknown change.</p> + + <p>He rose, sighed, shook himself.</p> + + <p>“I give it up,” said he, and went to bed.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Doggie went to France; a France hitherto undreamed + of, either by him or by any young Englishman; + a France clean swept and garnished for war; + a France, save for the ubiquitous English soldiery, of + silent towns and empty villages and deserted roads; + a France of smiling fields and sorrowful faces of + <a class="pagenum" id="page151" title="151"> </a>women and drawn patient faces of old men—and even + then the women and old men were rarely met by + day, for they were at work on the land, solitary figures + on the landscape, with vast spaces between them. In + the quiet townships, English street signs and placards + conflicted with the sense of being in friendly provincial + France, and gave the impression of foreign domination. + For beyond that long grim line of eternal thunder, + away over there in the distance, which was called + the Front, street signs and placards in yet another alien + tongue also outraged the serene genius of French urban + life. Yet our signs were a symbol of a mighty Empire’s + brotherhood, and the dimmed eyes that beheld the + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Place de la Fontaine</em> transformed into “Holborn + Circus,” and the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Grande Rue</em> into “Piccadilly,” smiled, + and the owners, with eager courtesy, directed the + stray Tommy to “Regent Street,” which they had + known all their life as the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Rue Feuillemaisnil</em>—a word + which Tommy could not pronounce, still less remember. + It was as much as Tommy could do to + get hold of an approximation to the name of the town. + And besides these renamings, other inscriptions flamed + about the streets; alphabetical hieroglyphs, in which + the mystic letters H.Q. most often appeared; “This + way to the Y.M.C.A. hut”; in many humble + windows the startling announcement, “Washing done + here.” British motor-lorries and ambulances crowding + the little <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">place</em> and aligned along the avenues. + British faces, British voices, everywhere. The blue + uniform and blue helmet of a French soldier seemed + as incongruous though as welcome as in London.</p> + + <p>And the straight endless roads, so French with + their infinite border of poplars, their patient little + stones marking every hundred metres until the tenth + rose into the proud kilometre stone proclaiming the + <a class="pagenum" id="page152" title="152"> </a>distance to the next stately town, rang too with the + sound of British voices, and the tramp of British feet, + and the clatter of British transport, and the screech + and whir of cars, revealing as they passed the flash of + red and gold of the British staff. Yet the finely + cultivated land remained to show that it was France; + and the little whitewashed villages; the curé, in + shovel-hat and rusty cassock; the children in blue or + black blouses, who stared as the British troops went + by; the patient, elderly French Territorials in their + old pre-war uniforms, guarding unthreatened culverts + or repairing the roads; the helpful signs set up in + happier days by the Touring Club of France.</p> + + <p>Into this strange anomaly of a land came Doggie + with his draft, still half stupefied by the remorselessness + of the stupendous machine in which he had been + caught, in spite of his many months of training in + England. He had loathed the East Coast camp. + When he landed at Boulogne in the dark and the pouring + rain and hunched his pack with the others who + went off singing to the rest camp, he regretted East + Anglia.</p> + + <p>“Give us a turn on the whistle, Doggie,” said a + corporal.</p> + + <p>“I was sea-sick into it and threw it overboard,” + he growled, stumbling over the rails of the quay.</p> + + <p>“Oh, you holy young liar!” said the man next + him.</p> + + <p>But Doggie did not trouble to reply, his neighbour + being only a private like himself.</p> + + <p>Then the draft joined its unit. In his youth Doggie + had often wondered at the meaning of the familiar + inscription on every goods van in France: “40 + Hommes. 8 Chevaux.” Now he ceased to wonder. + He was one of the forty men…. At the rail-head + <a class="pagenum" id="page153" title="153"> </a>he began to march, and at last joined the remnant + of his battalion. They had been through hard fighting, + and were now in billets. Until he joined them + he had not realized the drain there had been on the + reserves at home. Very many familiar faces of officers + were missing. New men had taken their place. And + very many of his old comrades had gone, some to + Blighty, some West of that Island of Desire; and + those who remained had the eyes of children who + had passed through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.</p> + + <p>McPhail and Mo Shendish had passed through + unscathed. In the reconstruction of the regiment + chance willed that the three of them found themselves + in the same platoon of A Company. Doggie almost + embraced them when they met.</p> + + <p>“Laddie,” said McPhail to him, as he was drinking + a mahogany-coloured liquid that was known by + the name of tea, out of a tin mug, and eating a hunk + of bread and jam, “I don’t know whether or not + I’m pleased to see you. You were safer in England. + Once I misspent many months of my life in shielding + you from the dangers of France. But France + is a much more dangerous place nowadays, and I + can’t help you. You’ve come right into the thick + of it. Just listen to the hell’s delight that’s going + on over yonder.”</p> + + <p>The easterly wind brought them the roar streaked + with stridence of the artillery duel in progress on + the nearest sector of the Front.</p> + + <p>They were sitting in the cellar entrance to a house + in a little town which had already been somewhat + mauled. Just opposite was a shuttered house on the + ground floor of which had been a hatter and hosier’s + shop, and there still swung bravely on an iron rod + the red brim of what once had been a monstrous red + <a class="pagenum" id="page154" title="154"> </a>hat. Next door, the façade of the upper stories had + been shelled away and the naked interiors gave the + impression of a pathetic doll’s house. Women’s + garments still hung on pegs. A cottage piano lurched + forward drunkenly on three legs, with the keyboard + ripped open, the treble notes on the ground, the bass + incongruously in the air. In the attic, ironically + secure, hung a cheap German print of blowsy children + feeding a pig. The wide flagstoned street smelt sour. + At various cavern doors sat groups of the billeted + soldiers. Now and then squads marched up and down, + monotonously clad in khaki and dun-coloured helmets. + Officers, some only recognizable by the Sam Browne + belt, others spruce and point-device, passed by. Here + and there a shop was open, and the elderly proprietor + and his wife stood by the doorway to get the afternoon + air. Women and children straggled rarely through + the streets. The Boche had left the little town alone + for some time; they had other things to do with their + heavy guns; and all the French population, save those + whose homes were reduced to nothingness, had remained. + They took no notice of the distant bombardment. + It had grown to be a phenomenon of + nature like the wind and the rain.</p> + + <p>But to Doggie it was new—just as the sight of the + wrecked house opposite, with its sturdy crownless + hat-brim of a sign, was new. He listened, as McPhail + had bidden him, to the artillery duel with an odd little + spasm of his heart.</p> + + <p>“What do you think of that, now?” asked McPhail + grandly, as if it was The Greatest Show on Earth + run by him, the Proprietor.</p> + + <p>“It’s rather noisy,” said Doggie, with a little + ironical twist of his lips that was growing habitual. + “Do they keep it up at night?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page155" title="155"> </a>“They do.”</p> + + <p>“I don’t think it’s fair to interfere with one’s sleep + like that,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“You’ve got to adapt yourself to it,” said McPhail + sagely. “No doubt you’ll be remembering my theory + of adaptability. Through that I’ve made myself + into a very brave man. When I wanted to run + away—a very natural desire, considering the scrupulous + attention I’ve always paid to my bodily well-being—I + reflected on the preposterous obstacles put in the + way of flight by a bowelless military system, and + adapted myself to the static and dynamic conditions + of the trenches.”</p> + + <p>“Gorblime!” said Mo Shendish, stretched out by + his side, “just listen to him!”</p> + + <p>“I suppose you’ll say you sucked honey out of the + shells,” remarked Doggie.</p> + + <p>“I’m no great hand at mixing metaphors——”</p> + + <p>“What about drinks?” asked Mo.</p> + + <p>“Nor drinks either,” replied McPhail. “Both + are bad for the brain. But as to what you were + saying, laddie, I’ll not deny that I’ve derived considerable + interest and amusement from a bombardment. + Yet it has its sad aspect.” He paused for a moment + or two. “Man,” he continued, “what an awful + waste of money!”</p> + + <p>“I don’t know what old Mac is jawing about,” + said Mo Shendish, “but you can take it from me he’s + a holy terror with the bayonet. One moment he’s + talking to a Boche through his hat and the next the + Boche is wriggling like a worm on a bent pin.”</p> + + <p>Mo winked at Phineas. The temptation to “tell + the tale” to the new-comer was too strong.</p> + + <p>Doggie grew very serious. “You’ve been killing + men—like that?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page156" title="156"> </a>“Thousands, laddie,” replied Phineas, the picture + of unboastful veracity. “And so has Mo.”</p> + + <p>Mo Shendish, helmeted, browned, dried, toughened, + a very different Mo from the pallid ferret whom Aggie + had driven into the ranks of war, hunched himself + up, his hands clasping his knees.</p> + + <p>“I don’t mind doing it, when you’re so excited you + don’t know where you are,” said he, “but I don’t + like thinking of it afterwards.”</p> + + <p>As a matter of fact, he had only once got home + with the bayonet and the memory was unpleasant.</p> + + <p>“But you’ve just thought of it,” said Phineas.</p> + + <p>“It was you, not me,” said Mo. “That makes + all the difference.”</p> + + <p>“It’s astonishing,” Phineas remarked sententiously, + “how many people not only refuse to catch pleasure + as it flies, but spurn it when it sits up and begs at them. + Laddie,” he turned to Doggie, “the more one wallows + in hedonism, the more one realizes its unplumbed + depths.”</p> + + <p>A little girl of ten, neatly pigtailed but piteously + shod, came near and cast a child’s envious eye on + Doggie’s bread and jam.</p> + + <p>“Approach, my little one,” Phineas cried in French + words but with the accent of Sauchiehall Street. “If + I gave you a franc, what would you do with it?”</p> + + <p>“I should buy nourishment (<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">de la nourriture</em>) for + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maman</em>.”</p> + + <p>“Lend me a franc, laddie,” said McPhail, and + when Doggie had slipped the coin into his palm, he + addressed the child in unintelligible grandiloquence + and sent her on her way mystified but rejoicing. + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ces bons drôles d’Anglais!</em></p> + + <p>“Ah, laddie!” cried Phineas, stretching himself + out comfortably by the jamb of the door, “you’ve got + <a class="pagenum" id="page157" title="157"> </a>to learn to savour the exquisite pleasure of a genuinely + kindly act.”</p> + + <p>“Hold on!” cried Mo. “It was Doggie’s money + you were flinging about.”</p> + + <p>McPhail withered him with a glance.</p> + + <p>“You’re an unphilosophical ignoramus,” said he.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XII"><a class="pagenum" id="page158" title="158"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XII</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">Perhaps</span> one of the greatest influences which + transformed Doggie into a fairly efficient though + undistinguished infantryman was a morbid social + terror of his officers. It saved him from many a + guard-room, and from many a heart-to-heart talk + wherein the zealous lieutenant gets to know his men. + He lived in dread lest military delinquency or civil + accomplishment should be the means of revealing the + disgrace which bit like an acid into his soul. His + undisguisable air of superior breeding could not fail to + attract notice. Often his officers asked him what he + was in civil life. His reply, “A clerk, sir,” had to + satisfy them. He had developed a curious self-protective + faculty of shutting himself up like a hedgehog + at the approach of danger. Once a breezy + subaltern had selected him as his batman; but Doggie’s + agonized, “It would be awfully good of you, sir, + if you wouldn’t mind not thinking of it,” and the + appeal in his eyes, established the freemasonry of + caste and saved him from dreaded intimate relations.</p> + + <p>“All right, if you’d rather not, Trevor,” said the + subaltern. “But why doesn’t a chap like you try + for a commission?”</p> + + <p>“I’m much happier as I am, sir,” replied Doggie, + and that was the end of the matter.</p> + + <p>But Phineas, when he heard of it—it was on the + East Coast—began: “If you still consider yourself + too fine to clean another man’s boots——”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page159" title="159"> </a>Doggie, in one of his quick fits of anger, interrupted: + “If you think I’m just a dirty little snob, if + you don’t understand why I begged to be let off, + you’re the thickest-headed fool in creation!”</p> + + <p>“I’m nae that, laddie,” replied Phineas, with his + usual ironic submissiveness. “Haven’t I kept your + secret all this time?”</p> + + <p>Thus it was Doggie’s fixed idea to lose himself in + the locust swarm, to be prominent neither for good + nor evil, even in the little clot of fifty, outwardly, + almost identical locusts that formed his platoon. It + braced him to the performance of hideous tasks; it + restrained him from display of superior intellectual + power or artistic capability. The world upheaval had + thrown him from his peacock and ivory room, with + its finest collection on earth of little china dogs, into + a horrible fetid hole in the ground in Northern France. + It had thrown not the average young Englishman of + comfortable position, who had toyed with æsthetic + superficialities as an amusement, but a poor little + by-product of cloistered life who had been brought + up from babyhood to regard these things as the nervous + texture of his very existence. He was wrapped from + head to heel in fine net, to every tiny mesh of which + he was acutely sensitive.</p> + + <p>A hole in the ground in Northern France. The + regiment, after its rest, moved on and took its turn + in the trenches. Four days on; four days off. + Four days on of misery inconceivable. Four days + on, during which the officers watched the men with + the unwavering vigilance of kindly cats:</p> + + <p>“How are you getting along, Trevor?”</p> + + <p>“Nicely, thank you, sir.”</p> + + <p>“Feet all right?”</p> + + <p>“Yes, thank you, sir.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page160" title="160"> </a>“Sure? If you want to grouse, grouse away. + That’s what I’m talking to you for.”</p> + + <p>“I’m perfectly happy, sir.”</p> + + <p>“Darn sight more than I am!” laughed the + subaltern, and with a cheery nod in acknowledgment + of Doggie’s salute, splashed down the muddy trench.</p> + + <p>But Doggie was chilled to the bone, and he had + no feeling in his feet, which were under six inches of + water, and his woollen gloves being wet through were + useless, and prevented his numbed hands from feeling + the sandbags with which he and the rest of the platoon + were repairing the parapet; for the Germans had + just consecrated an hour’s general hate to the vicinity + of the trench, and its exquisite symmetry, the pride of + the platoon commander, had been disturbed. There + had also been a few ghastly casualties. A shell had + fallen and burst in the traverse at the far end of the + trench. Something that looked like half a man’s + head and a bit of shoulder had dropped just in front + of the dug-out where Doggie and his section was + sheltering. Doggie staring at it was violently sick. + In a stupefied way he found himself mingling with + others who were engaged in clearing up the horror. + A murmur reached him that it was Taffy Jones who + had thus been dismembered…. The bombardment + over, he had taken his place with the rest in + the reparation of the parapet; and as he happened + to be at an end of the line, the officer had spoken to him. + If he had been suffering tortures unknown to Attila, + and unimagined by his successors, he would have + answered just the same.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">But he lamented Taffy’s death to Phineas, who + listened sympathetically. Such a cheery comrade, + such a smart soldier, such a kindly soul.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page161" title="161"> </a>“Not a black spot in him,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“A year ago, laddie,” said McPhail, “what + would have been your opinion of a bookmaker’s + clerk?”</p> + + <p>“I know,” replied Doggie. “But this isn’t a + year ago. Just look round.”</p> + + <p>He laughed somewhat hysterically, for the fate of + Taffy had unstrung him for the time. Phineas contemplated + the length of deep narrow ditch, with its + planks half swimming on filthy liquid, its wire revetment + holding up the oozing sides, the dingy parapet + above which it was death to put one’s head, the grey + free sky, the only thing free along that awful row of + parallel ditches that stretched from the Belgian coast + to Switzerland, the clay-covered, shapeless figures of + men, their fellows, almost undistinguishable even by + features from themselves.</p> + + <p>“It has been borne upon me lately,” said Phineas, + “that patriotism is an amazing virtue.”</p> + + <p>Doggie drew a foot out of the mud so as to find a + less precarious purchase higher up the slope.</p> + + <p>“And I’ve been thinking, Phineas, whether it’s + really patriotism that has brought you and me into + this—what can we call it? Dante’s Inferno is child’s + play to it.”</p> + + <p>“Dante had no more imagination,” said Phineas, + “than a Free Kirk precentor in Kirkcudbright.”</p> + + <p>“But is it patriotism?” Doggie persisted. “If I + thought it was, I should be happier. If we had orders + to go over the top and attack and I could shout ‘England + for ever!’ and lose myself just in the thick of + it——”</p> + + <p>“There’s a brass hat coming down the trench,” + said Phineas, “and brass hats have no use for rhapsodical + privates.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page162" title="162"> </a>They stood to attention as the staff officer passed + by. Then Doggie broke in impatiently:</p> + + <p>“I wish to goodness you could understand what + I’m trying to get at.”</p> + + <p>A smile illuminated the gaunt, unshaven, mud-caked + face of Phineas McPhail.</p> + + <p>“Laddie,” said he, “let England, as an abstraction, + fend for itself. But you’ve a bonny English soul + within you, and for that you are fighting. And so + had poor Taffy Jones. And I have a bonny Scottish + thirst, the poignancy of which both of you have been + happily spared. I will leave you, laddie, to seek in + slumber a surcease from martyrdom.”</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Doggie had been out a long time. He had seen + many places, much fighting and endured manifold + miseries. After one of the spells in the trenches, + the worst he had experienced, A Company was + marched into new billets some miles behind the lines, + in the once prosperous village of Frélus. They had + slouched along dead tired, drooping under their packs, + sodden with mud and sleeplessness, silent, with not + a note of a song among them—but at the entrance to + the village, quickened by a word or two of exhortation + from officers and sergeants, they pulled themselves + together and marched in, heads up, forward, in faultless + step. The C.O. was jealous of the honour of + his men. He assumed that his predecessors in the + village had been a “rotten lot,” and was determined + to show the inhabitants of Frélus what a crack English + regiment was really like. Frélus was an unimportant, + unheard-of village; but the opinion of a thousand + Fréluses made up France’s opinion of the British + Army. Doggie, although half stupefied with fatigue, + responded to the sentiment, like the rest. He was + <a class="pagenum" id="page163" title="163"> </a>conscious of making part of a gallant show. It was + only when they halted and stood easy that he lost + count of things. The wide main street of the village + swam characterless before his eyes. He followed, not + directions, but directed men, with a sheep-like instinct, + and found himself stumbling through an archway down + a narrow path. He had a dim consciousness of lurching + sideways and confusedly apologizing to a woman + who supported him back to equilibrium. Then the + next thing he saw was a barn full of fresh straw, and + when somebody pointed to a vacant strip, he fell down, + with many others, and went to sleep.</p> + + <p>The réveillé sounded a minute afterwards, though + a whole night had passed; and there was the blessed + clean water to wash in—he had long since ceased to + be fastidious in his ablutions—and there was breakfast, + sizzling bacon and bread and jam. And there + in front of the kitchen, aiding with the hot water + for the tea, moved a slim girl, with dark, and as Doggie + thought, tragic eyes.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Kit inspection, feet inspection, all the duties of the + day and dinner were over. Most of the men returned + to their billets to sleep. Some, including Doggie, + wandered about the village, taking the air, and + visiting the little modest cafés and talking with indifferent + success, so far as the interchange of articulate + ideas was concerned, with shy children. McPhail + and Mo Shendish being among the sleepers, Doggie + mooned about by himself in his usual self-effacing + way. There was little to interest him in the long + straggling village. He had passed through a hundred + such. Low whitewashed houses, interspersed with + perky balconied buildings given over to little shops + on the ground floor, with here and there a discreet + <a class="pagenum" id="page164" title="164"> </a>iron gate shutting off the doctor’s or the attorney’s + villa, and bearing the oval plate indicating the name + and pursuit of the tenant; here and there, too, long + whitewashed walls enclosing a dairy or a timber-yard + stretched on each side of the great high road, + and the village gradually dwindled away at each end + into the gently undulating country. There were just + a by-lane or two, one leading up to the little grey + church and presbytery and another to the little cemetery + with its trim paths and black and white wooden + crosses and wirework pious offerings. At open doors + the British soldiers lounged at ease, and in the dim + interiors behind them the forms of the women of + the house, blue-aproned, moved to and fro. The + early afternoon was warm, a westerly breeze deadened + the sound of the distant bombardment to an unheeded + drone, and a holy peace settled over the place.</p> + + <p>Doggie, clean, refreshed, comfortably drowsy, + having explored the village, returned to his billet, + and looking at it from the opposite side of the way, + for the first time realized its nature. The lane, + into which he had stumbled the night before, ran + under an archway supporting some kind of overhead + chamber, and separated the dwelling-house from a + warehouse wall on which vast letters proclaimed the + fact that Veuve Morin et Fils carried on therein the + business of hay and corn dealers. Hence, Doggie + reflected, the fresh, deep straw on which he and his + fortunate comrades had wallowed. The double gate + under the archway was held back by iron stanchions. + The two-storied house looked fairly large and comfortable. + The front door stood wide open, giving + the view of a neat, stiff little hall or living-room. + An article of furniture caught his idle eye. He + crossed the road in order to have a nearer view. It + <a class="pagenum" id="page165" title="165"> </a>was a huge polished mahogany cask standing about + three feet high and bound with shining brass bands, + such as he remembered having seen once in Brittany. + He advanced still closer, and suddenly the slim, dark + girl appeared and stood in the doorway, and looked + frankly and somewhat rebukingly into his inquisitive + eyes. Doggie flushed as one caught in an unmannerly + act. A crying fault of the British Army is that it + prescribes for the rank and file no form of polite + recognition of the existence of civilians. It is contrary + to Army Orders to salute or to take off their caps. + They can only jerk their heads and grin, an inelegant + proceeding, which places them at a disadvantage with + the fair sex. Doggie, therefore, sketched a vague + salutation half-way between a salute and a bow, and + began a profuse apology. Mademoiselle must pardon + his curiosity, but as a lover of old things he had been + struck by the beautiful <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tonneau</em>.</p> + + <p>An amused light came into her sombre eyes and + a smile flickered round her lips. Doggie noted instantly + how pale she was, and how tiny, faint little lines + persisted at the corners of those lips in spite of the smile.</p> + + <p>“There is no reason for excuses, monsieur,” she + said. “The door was open to the view of everybody.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pourtant</em>,” said Doggie, “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">c’était un peu mal élevé</em>.”</p> + + <p>She laughed. “Pardon. But it’s droll. First to + find an English soldier apologizing for looking into + a house, and then to find him talking French like a + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">poilu</em>.”</p> + + <p>Doggie said, with a little touch of national jealousy + and a reversion to Durdlebury punctilio: “I hope, + mademoiselle, you have always found the English + soldier conduct himself like a gentleman.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais oui, mais oui!</em>” she cried, “they are all + charming. <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ils sont doux comme des moutons.</em> But + <a class="pagenum" id="page166" title="166"> </a>this is a question of delicacy—somewhat exaggerated.”</p> + + <p>“It’s good of you, mademoiselle, to forgive me,” + said Doggie.</p> + + <p>By all the rules of polite intercourse, either Doggie + should have made his bow and exit, or the maiden, + exercising her prerogative, should have given him + the opportunity of a graceful withdrawal. But they + remained where they were, the girl framed by the + doorway, the lithe little figure in khaki and lichen-coloured + helmet looking up at her from the foot of + the two front steps.</p> + + <p>At last he said in some embarrassment: “That’s + a very beautiful cask of yours.”</p> + + <p>She wavered for a few seconds. Then she said:</p> + + <p>“You can enter, monsieur, and examine it, if you + like.”</p> + + <p>Mademoiselle was very amiable, said Doggie. + Mademoiselle moved aside and Doggie entered, taking + off his helmet and holding it under his arm like + an opera-hat. There was nothing much to see in + the little vestibule-parlour: a stiff tasselled chair or + two, a great old linen-press taking up most of one side + of a wall, a cheap table covered with a chenille tablecloth, + and the resplendent old cask, about which he + lingered. He mentioned Brittany. Her tragic face + lighted up again. Monsieur was right. Her aunt, + Madame Morin, was Breton, and had brought the cask + with her as part of her dowry, together with the press + and other furniture. Doggie alluded to the vastly + lettered inscription, “Veuve Morin et Fils.” Madame + Morin was, in a sense, his hostess. And the sons?</p> + + <p>“One is in Madagascar, and the other—alas, + monsieur!”</p> + + <p>And Doggie knew what that “alas!” meant.</p> + + <p>“The Argonne,” she said.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page167" title="167"> </a>“And madame your aunt?”</p> + + <p>She shrugged her thin though shapely shoulders. + “It nearly killed her. She is old and an invalid. + She has been in bed for the last three weeks.”</p> + + <p>“Then what becomes of the business?”</p> + + <p>“It is I, monsieur, who am the business. And I + know nothing about it.” She sighed. Then with + her blue apron—otherwise she was dressed in unrelieved + black—she rubbed an imaginary speck from + the brass banding of the cask. “This, I suppose + you know, was for the best brandy, monsieur.”</p> + + <p>“And now?” he asked.</p> + + <p>“A memory. A sentiment. A thing of beauty.”</p> + + <p>In a feminine way, which he understood, she + herded him to the door, by way of dismissal. Durdlebury + helped him. A tiny French village has as many + slanderous tongues as an English cathedral city. He + was preparing to take polite leave, when she looked + swiftly at him and made the faintest gesture of a + detaining hand.</p> + + <p>“Now I remember. It was you who nearly fell + into me last night, when you were entering through + the gate.”</p> + + <p>The dim recollection came back—the firm woman’s + arm round him for the few tottering seconds.</p> + + <p>“It seems I am always bound to be impolite, for + I don’t think I thanked you,” smiled Doggie.</p> + + <p>“You were at the end of your tether.” Then + very gently, “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pauvre garçon!</em>”</p> + + <p>“The <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sales Boches</em> had kept us awake for four + nights,” said Doggie. “That was why.”</p> + + <p>“And you are rested now?”</p> + + <p>He laughed. “Almost.”</p> + + <p>They were at the door. He looked out and drew + back. A knot of men were gathered by the gate + <a class="pagenum" id="page168" title="168"> </a>of the yard. Apparently she had seen them too, for + a flush rose to her pale cheeks.</p> + + <p>“Mademoiselle,” said Doggie, “I should like to + creep back to the barn and sleep. If I pass my comrades + they’ll want to detain me.”</p> + + <p>“That would be a pity,” she said demurely. + “Come this way, monsieur.”</p> + + <p>She led him through a room and a passage to the + kitchen. They shared a pleasurable sense of adventure + and secrecy. At the kitchen door she paused and + spoke to an old woman chopping up vegetables.</p> + + <p>“Toinette, let monsieur pass.” To Doggie she + said: “Au revoir, monsieur!” and disappeared.</p> + + <p>The old woman looked at him at first with disfavour. + She did not hold with Tommies needlessly + tramping over the clean flags of her kitchen. But + Doggie’s polite apology for disturbing her and a youthful + grace of manner—he still held his tin hat under + his arm—caused her features to relax.</p> + + <p>“You are English?”</p> + + <p>With a smile, he indicated his uniform. “Why, + yes, madame.”</p> + + <p>“How comes it, then, that you speak French?”</p> + + <p>“Because I have always loved your beautiful + France, madame.”</p> + + <p>“France—<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ah! la pauvre France</em>!” She sighed, + drew a wisp of what had been a cornet of snuff from + her pocket, opened it, dipped in a tentative finger + and thumb and, finding it empty, gazed at it with + disappointment, sighed again and, with the methodical + hopelessness of age, folded it up into the neatest of + little squares and thrust it back in her pocket. Then + she went on with her vegetables.</p> + + <p>Doggie took his leave and emerged into the yard.</p> + + <p>He dozed pleasantly on the straw of the barn, but + <a class="pagenum" id="page169" title="169"> </a>it was not the dead sleep of the night. Bits of his + recent little adventure fitted into the semi-conscious + intervals. He heard the girl’s voice saying so gently: + “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pauvre garçon!</em>” and it was very comforting.</p> + + <p>He was finally aroused by Phineas and Mo Shendish, + who, having slept like tired dogs some distance off + down the barn, now desired his company for a stroll + round the village. Doggie good-naturedly assented. + As they passed the house door he cast a quick glance. + It was open, but the slim figure in black with the blue + apron was not visible within. The shining cask, however, + seemed to smile a friendly greeting.</p> + + <p>“If you believed the London papers,” said Phineas, + “you’d think that the war-worn soldier coming from + the trenches is met behind the lines with luxurious + Turkish baths, comfortable warm canteens, picture + palaces and theatrical entertainments. Can you perceive + here any of those amenities of modern warfare?”</p> + + <p>They looked around them, and admitted they + could not.</p> + + <p>“Apparently,” said Phineas, “the Colonel, good but + limited man, has missed all the proper places and dumps + us in localities unrecognized by the London Press.”</p> + + <p>“Put me on the pier at Brighton,” sang Mo + Shendish. “But I’d sooner have Margit or Yarmouth + any day. Brighton’s too toffish for whelks. + My! and cockles! I wonder whether we shall ever + eat ’em again.” A far-away, dreamy look crept into + his eyes.</p> + + <p>“Does your young lady like cockles?” Doggie + asked sympathetically.</p> + + <p>“Aggie? Funny thing, I was just thinking of + her. She fair dotes on ’em. We had a day at Southend + just before the war——”</p> + + <p>He launched into anecdote. His companions + <a class="pagenum" id="page170" title="170"> </a>listened, Phineas ironically carrying out his theory of + adaptability, Doggie with finer instinct. It appeared + there had been an altercation over right of choice + with an itinerant vendor in which, to Aggie’s admiration, + Mo had come off triumphant.</p> + + <p>“You see,” he explained, “being in the fish trade + myself, I could spot the winners.”</p> + + <p>James Marmaduke Trevor, of Denby Hall, laughed + and slapped him on the back, and said indulgently: + “Good old Mo!”</p> + + <p>At the little school-house they stopped to gossip + with some of their friends who were billeted there, + and they sang the praises of the Veuve Morin’s barn.</p> + + <p>“I wonder you don’t have the house full of orficers, + if it’s so wonderful,” said some one.</p> + + <p>An omniscient corporal in the confidence of the + quartermaster explained that the landlady being ill in + bed, and the place run by a young girl, the house + had been purposely missed. Doggie drew a breath of + relief at the news and attributed Madame Morin’s + malady to the intervention of a kindly providence. + Somehow he did not fancy officers having the run of + the house.</p> + + <p>They strolled on and came to a forlorn little <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Débit + de Tabac</em>, showing in its small window some clay + pipes and a few fly-blown picture post-cards. Now + Doggie, in spite of his training in adversity, had never + resigned himself to “Woodbines,” and other such + brands supplied to the British Army, and Egyptian + and Turkish being beyond his social pale, he had taken + to smoking French Régie tobacco, of which he laid + in a stock whenever he had the chance. So now he + entered the shop, leaving Phineas and Mo outside. + As they looked on French cigarettes with sturdy + British contempt, they were not interested in Doggie’s + <a class="pagenum" id="page171" title="171"> </a>purchases. A wan girl of thirteen rose from behind + the counter.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vous désirez, monsieur?</em>”</p> + + <p>Doggie stated his desire. The girl was calculating + the price of the packets before wrapping them up, + when his eyes fell upon a neat little pile of cornets + in a pigeon-hole at the back. They directly suggested + to him one of the great luminous ideas of his life. + It was only afterwards that he realized its effulgence. + For the moment he was merely concerned with the + needs of a poor old woman who had sighed lamentably + over an empty paper of comfort.</p> + + <p>“Do you sell snuff?”</p> + + <p>“But yes, monsieur.”</p> + + <p>“Give me some of the best quality.”</p> + + <p>“How much does monsieur desire?”</p> + + <p>“A lot,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>And he bought a great package, enough to set the + whole village sneezing to the end of the war, and peering + round the tiny shop and espying in the recesses + of a glass case a little olive-wood box ornamented + on the top with pansies and forget-me-nots, purchased + that also. He had just paid when his companions put + their heads in the doorway. Mo, pointing waggishly + to Doggie, warned the little girl against his depravity.</p> + + <p>“Mauvy, mauvy!” said he.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Qu’est-ce qu’il dit?</em>” asked the child.</p> + + <p>“He’s the idiot of the regiment, whom I have to + look after and feed with pap,” said Doggie, “and, + being hungry, he is begging you not to detain me.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon Dieu!</em>” cried the child.</p> + + <p>Doggie, always courteous, went out with a “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bon + soir, mademoiselle</em>,” and joined his friends.</p> + + <p>“What were you jabbering to her about?” Mo + asked suspiciously.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page172" title="172"> </a>Doggie gave him the literal translation of his speech. + Phineas burst into loud laughter.</p> + + <p>“Laddie,” said he, “I’ve never heard you make + a joke before. The idiot of the regiment, and you’re + his keeper! Man, that’s fine. What has come over + you to-day?”</p> + + <p>“If he’d said a thing like that in Mare Street, + Hackney, I’d have knocked his blinking ’ead orf,” + declared Mo Shendish.</p> + + <p>Doggie stopped and put his parcel-filled hands + behind his back.</p> + + <p>“Have a try now, Mo.”</p> + + <p>But Mo bade him fry his ugly face, and thus established + harmony.</p> + + <p>It was late that evening before Doggie could find + an opportunity of slipping, unobserved, through the + open door into the house kitchen dimly illuminated + by an oil lamp.</p> + + <p>“Madame,” said he to Toinette, “I observed to-day + that you had come to the end of your snuff. Will + you permit a little English soldier to give you some? + Also a little box to keep it in.”</p> + + <p>The old woman, spare, myriad-wrinkled beneath + her peasant’s <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coiffe</em>, yet looking as if carved out of + weather-beaten oak, glanced from the gift to the + donor and from the donor to the gift.</p> + + <p>“But, monsieur—monsieur—why?” she began + quaveringly.</p> + + <p>“You surely have some one—<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">là bas</em>—over yonder?” + said Doggie with a sweep of his hand.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais oui?</em> How did you know? My grandson. + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon petiot</em>——”</p> + + <p>“It is he, my comrade, who sends the snuff to + the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grand’mére</em>.” And Doggie bolted.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XIII"><a class="pagenum" id="page173" title="173"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XIII</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">At</span> breakfast next morning Doggie searched the + courtyard in vain for the slim figure of the + girl. Yesterday she had stood just outside the kitchen + door. To-day her office was usurped by a hefty + cook with the sleeves of his grey shirt rolled up and + his collar open and vast and tight-hitched braces + unromantically strapped all over him. Doggie + felt a pang of disappointment and abused the tea. + Mo Shendish stared, and asked what was wrong + with it.</p> + + <p>“Rotten,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“You can’t expect yer slap-up City A.B.C. shops + in France,” said Mo.</p> + + <p>Doggie, who was beginning to acquire a sense of + rueful humour, smiled and was appeased.</p> + + <p>It was only in the afternoon that he saw the girl + again. She was standing in the doorway of the house, + with her hand on her bosom, as though she had just + come out to breathe fresh air, when Doggie and his + two friends emerged from the yard. As their eyes + met, she greeted him with her sad little smile. Emboldened, + he stepped forward.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bon jour, mademoiselle.</em>”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bon jour, monsieur.</em>”</p> + + <p>“I hope madame your aunt is better to-day.”</p> + + <p>She seemed to derive some dry amusement from + his solicitude.</p> + + <p>“Alas, no, monsieur.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page174" title="174"> </a>“Was that why I had not the pleasure of seeing + you this morning?”</p> + + <p>“Where?”</p> + + <p>“Yesterday you filled our tea-kettles.”</p> + + <p>“But, monsieur,” she replied primly, “I am not + the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">vivandière</em> of the regiment.”</p> + + <p>“That’s a pity,” laughed Doggie.</p> + + <p>Then he became aware of the adjacent forms and + staring eyes of Phineas and Mo, who for the first + time in their military career beheld him on easy terms + with a strange and prepossessing young woman. After + a second’s thought he came to a diplomatic decision.</p> + + <p>“Mademoiselle,” said he, in his best Durdlebury + manner, “may I dare to present my two comrades, + my best friends in the battalion, Monsieur McPhail, + Monsieur Shendish?”</p> + + <p>She made them each a little formal bow, and then, + somewhat maliciously, addressing McPhail, as the + bigger and the elder of the two:</p> + + <p>“I don’t yet know the name of your friend.”</p> + + <p>Phineas put his great hand on Doggie’s shoulder.</p> + + <p>“James Marmaduke Trevor.”</p> + + <p>“Otherwise called Doggie, miss,” said Mo.</p> + + <p>She made a little graceful gesture of non-comprehension.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Non compree?</em>” asked Mo.</p> + + <p>“No, monsieur.”</p> + + <p>Phineas explained, in his rasping and consciously + translated French:</p> + + <p>“It is a nickname of the regiment. Doggie.”</p> + + <p>The flushed and embarrassed subject of the discussion + saw her lips move silently to the word.</p> + + <p>“But his name is Trevor. Monsieur Trevor,” + said Phineas.</p> + + <p>She smiled again. And the strange thing about + <a class="pagenum" id="page175" title="175"> </a>her smile was that it was a matter of her lips and rarely + of her eyes, which always maintained the haunting + sadness of their tragic depths.</p> + + <p>“Monsieur Trevor,” she repeated imitatively. + “And yours, monsieur?”</p> + + <p>“McPhail.”</p> + + <p>“Mac-Fêle; <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">c’est assez difficile</em>. And yours?”</p> + + <p>Mo guessed. “Shendish,” said he.</p> + + <p>She repeated that also, whereat Mo grinned fatuously, + showing his little yellow teeth beneath his scrubby + red moustache.</p> + + <p>“My friends call me Mo,” said he.</p> + + <p>She grasped his meaning. “Mo,” she said; and + she said it so funnily and softly, and with ever so + little a touch of quizzicality, that the sentimental + warrior roared with delight.</p> + + <p>“You’ve got it right fust time, miss.”</p> + + <p>From her two steps’ height of vantage, she looked + down on the three upturned British faces—and her + eyes went calmly from one to the other.</p> + + <p>She turned to Doggie. “One would say, monsieur, + that you were the Three Musketeers.”</p> + + <p>“Possibly, mademoiselle,” laughed Doggie. He + had not felt so light-hearted for many months. “But + we lack a d’Artagnan.”</p> + + <p>“When you find him, bring him to me,” said the + girl.</p> + + <p>“Mademoiselle,” said Phineas gallantly, “we + would not be such imbeciles.”</p> + + <p>At that moment the voice of Toinette came from + within.</p> + + <p>“Ma’amselle Jeanne! Ma’amselle Jeanne!”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui, oui, j’y viens</em>,” she cried. “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bon soir, messieurs</em>,” + and she was gone.</p> + + <p>Doggie looked into the empty vestibule and smiled + <a class="pagenum" id="page176" title="176"> </a>at the friendly brandy cask. Provided it is pronounced + correctly, so as to rhyme with the English “Anne,” + it is a very pretty name. Doggie thought she + looked like Jeanne—a Jeanne d’Arc of this modern + war.</p> + + <p>“Yon’s a very fascinating lassie,” Phineas remarked + soberly, as they started on their stroll. “Did you + happen to observe that all the time she was talking so + prettily she was looking at ghosts behind us?”</p> + + <p>“Do you think so?” asked Doggie, startled.</p> + + <p>“Man, I know it,” replied Phineas.</p> + + <p>“Ghosts be blowed!” cried Mo Shendish. “She’s + a bit of orl right, she is. What I call class. Doesn’t + chuck ’erself at yer ’ead, like some of ’em, and, on + the other ’and, has none of yer blooming stand-orfishness. + See what I mean?” He clutched them + each by an arm—he was between them. “Look + ’ere. How do you think I could pick up this blinking + lingo—quick?”</p> + + <p>“Make violent love to Toinette and ask her to + teach you. There’s nothing like it,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Who’s Toinette?”</p> + + <p>“The nice old lady in the kitchen.”</p> + + <p>Mo flung his arm away. “Oh, go and boil + yourself!” said he.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">But the making of love to the old woman in the + kitchen led to possibilities of which Mo Shendish + never dreamed. They never dawned on Doggie + until he found himself at it that evening.</p> + + <p>It was dusk. The men were lounging and smoking + about the courtyard. Doggie, who had long since + exchanged poor Taffy Jones’s imperfect penny whistle + for a scientific musical instrument ordered from + Bond Street, was playing, with his sensitive skill, the + <a class="pagenum" id="page177" title="177"> </a>airs they loved. He had just finished “Annie Laurie”—“Man,” + Phineas used to declare, “when Doggie + Trevor plays ‘Annie Laurie,’ he has the power to + take your heart by the strings and drag it out through + your eyes”—he had just come to the end of this + popular and gizzard-piercing tune and received his + meed of applause, when Toinette came out of the + kitchen, two great zinc crocks in her hands, and + crossed to the pump in the corner of the yard. Three + or four would-be pumpers, among them Doggie, went + to her aid.</p> + + <p>“All right, mother, we’ll see to it,” said one of + them.</p> + + <p>So they pumped and filled the crocks, and one + man got hold of one and Doggie got hold of another, + and they carried them to the kitchen steps.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Merci, monsieur</em>,” said Toinette to the first; and + he went away with a friendly nod. But to Doggie + she said, “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Entrez, monsieur</em>.” And monsieur carried + the two crocks over the threshold and Toinette shut + the door behind him. And there, sitting over some + needlework in a corner of the kitchen by a lamp, sat + Jeanne.</p> + + <p>She looked up rather startled, frowned for the + brief part of a second, and regarded him inquiringly.</p> + + <p>“I brought in monsieur to show him the photograph + of <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mon petiot</em>, the comrade who sent me the snuff,” + explained Toinette, rummaging in a cupboard.</p> + + <p>“May I stay and look at it?” asked Doggie, + buttoning up his tunic.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais parfaitement, monsieur</em>,” said Jeanne. “It + is Toinette’s kitchen.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bien sûr</em>,” said the old woman, turning with the + photograph, that of a solid young infantryman. Doggie + made polite remarks. Toinette put on a pair of + <a class="pagenum" id="page178" title="178"> </a>silver-rimmed spectacles and scanned the picture. + Then she handed it to Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“Don’t you think there is a great deal of resemblance?”</p> + + <p>Jeanne directed a comparing glance at Doggie + and smiled.</p> + + <p>“Like two little soldiers in a pod,” she said.</p> + + <p>Toinette talked of her <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">petiot</em> who was at St. Mihiel. + It was far away, very far. She sighed as though he + were fighting remote in the Caucasus.</p> + + <p>Presently came the sharp ring of a bell. Jeanne + put aside her work and rose.</p> + + <p>“It is my aunt who has awakened.”</p> + + <p>But Toinette was already at the door. “I will go + up, Ma’amselle Jeanne. Do not derange yourself.”</p> + + <p>She bustled away. Once more the pair found + themselves alone together.</p> + + <p>“If you don’t continue your sewing, mademoiselle,” + said Doggie, “I shall think that I am disturbing you, + and must bid you good night.”</p> + + <p>Jeanne sat down and resumed her work. A + sensation, more like laughter than anything else, + fluttered round Doggie’s heart.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Voulez-vous vous asseoir, Monsieur—Trevor?</em>”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vous êtes bien aimable, Mademoiselle Jeanne</em>,” + said Doggie, sitting down on a straight-backed chair + by the oilcloth-covered kitchen table which was + between them.</p> + + <p>“May I move the lamp slightly?” he asked, + for it hid her from his view.</p> + + <p>He moved it somewhat to her left. It threw + shadows over her features, accentuating their appealing + sadness. He watched her, and thought of McPhail’s + words about the ghosts. He noted too, as the needle + went in and out of the fabric, that her hands, though + <a class="pagenum" id="page179" title="179"> </a>roughened by coarse work, were finely made, with + long fingers and delicate wrists. He broke a silence + that grew embarrassing.</p> + + <p>“You seem to have suffered greatly, Mademoiselle + Jeanne,” he said softly.</p> + + <p>Her lips quivered. “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais oui, monsieur.</em>”</p> + + <p>“Monsieur Trevor,” he said.</p> + + <p>She put her hands and needlework in her lap and + looked at him full.</p> + + <p>“And you too have suffered?”</p> + + <p>“I? Oh no.”</p> + + <p>“But, yes. I have seen too much of it not to know. + I see in the eyes. Your two comrades to-day—they + are good fellows—but they have not suffered. + You are different.”</p> + + <p>“Not a bit,” he declared. “We’re just little + indistinguishable bits of the conglomerate Tommy.”</p> + + <p>“And I, monsieur, have the honour to say that you + are different.”</p> + + <p>This was very flattering. More—it was sweet + unction, grateful to many a bruise.</p> + + <p>“How?” said he.</p> + + <p>“You do not belong to their world. Your Tommies + are wonderful in their kindness and chivalry—until + I met them I had never seen an Englishman in + my life—I had imbecile ideas—I thought they would + be without manners—<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">un peu insultants</em>. I found I + could walk among them, without fear, as if I were a + princess. It is true.”</p> + + <p>“It is because you have the air of a princess,” + said Doggie; “a sad little disguised princess of a + fairy-tale, who is recognized by all the wild boars + and rabbits in the wood.”</p> + + <p>She glanced aside. “There isn’t a woman in + Frélus who is differently treated. I am only an + <a class="pagenum" id="page180" title="180"> </a>ignorant girl, half bourgeoise, half peasant, monsieur, + but I have my woman’s knowledge—and I know + there is a difference between you and the others. + You are a son of good family. It is evident. You + have a delicacy of mind and of feeling. You were + not born to be a soldier.”</p> + + <p>“Mademoiselle Jeanne,” cried Doggie, “do I + appear as bad as that? Do you take me for an + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">embusqué manqué</em>?”</p> + + <p>Now an <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">embusqué</em> is a slacker who lies in the safe + ambush of a soft job. And an <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">embusqué manqué</em> is a + slacker who fortuitously has failed to win the fungus + wreath of slackerdom.</p> + + <p>She flushed deep red.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je ne suis pas malhonnête, monsieur.</em>”</p> + + <p>Doggie spread himself elbow-wise over the table. + The girl’s visible register of moods was fascinating.</p> + + <p>“Pardon, Mademoiselle Jeanne. You are quite + right. But it’s not a question of what I was born + to be—but what I was trained to be. I wasn’t + trained to be a soldier. But I do my best.”</p> + + <p>She looked at him waveringly.</p> + + <p>“Forgive me, mademoiselle.”</p> + + <p>“But you flash out on the point of honour.”</p> + + <p>Doggie laughed. “Which shows that I have the + essential of the soldier.”</p> + + <p>Doggie’s manner was not without charm. She + relented.</p> + + <p>“You know very well what I mean,” she said + rebukingly. “And you don’t deserve that I should + tell it to you. It was my intention to say that you + have sacrificed many things to make yourself a simple + soldier.”</p> + + <p>“Only a few idle habits,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“You joined, like the rest, as a volunteer.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page181" title="181"> </a>“Of course.”</p> + + <p>“You abandoned everything to fight for your + country?”</p> + + <p>Under the spell of her dark eyes Doggie spoke + according to Phineas after the going West of Taffy + Jones, “I think, Mademoiselle Jeanne, it was rather + to fight for my soul.”</p> + + <p>She resumed her sewing. “That’s what I meant + long ago,” she remarked with the first draw of the + needle. “No one could fight for his soul without + passing through suffering.” She went on sewing. + Doggie, shrinking from a reply that might have sounded + fatuous, remained silent; but he realized a wonderful + faculty of comprehension in Jeanne.</p> + + <p>After awhile he said: “Where did you learn all + your wisdom, Mademoiselle Jeanne?”</p> + + <p>“At the convent, I suppose. My father gave me + a good education.”</p> + + <p>“An English poet has said, ‘Knowledge comes, + but Wisdom lingers’”—Doggie had rather a fight to + express the meaning exactly in French—“You don’t + gather wisdom in convents.”</p> + + <p>“It is true. Since then I have seen many things.”</p> + + <p>She stared across the room, not at Doggie, and he + thought again of the ghosts.</p> + + <p>“Tell me some of them, Mademoiselle Jeanne,” + he said in a low voice.</p> + + <p>She shot a swift glance at him and met his honest + brown eyes.</p> + + <p>“I saw my father murdered in front of me,” she said + in a harsh voice.</p> + + <p>“My God!” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“It was on the Retreat. We lived in Cambrai, + my father and mother and I. He was a lawyer. + When we heard the Germans were coming, my + <a class="pagenum" id="page182" title="182"> </a>father, somewhat of an invalid, decided to fly. He + had heard of what they had already done in Belgium. + We tried to go by train. <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pas moyen.</em> We took to + the road, with many others. We could not get a + horse—we had postponed our flight till too late. + Only a handcart, with a few necessaries and precious + things. And we walked until we nearly died of + heat and dust and grief. For our hearts were very + heavy, monsieur. The roads, too, were full of the + English in retreat. I shall not tell you what I saw + of the wounded by the roadside. I sometimes see + them now in my dreams. And we were helpless. + We thought we would leave the main roads, and at + last we got lost and found ourselves in a little wood. + We sat down to rest and to eat. It was cool and + pleasant, and I laughed, to cheer my parents, for they + knew how I loved to eat under the freshness of the + trees.” She shivered. “I hope I shall never have to + eat a meal in a wood again. We had scarcely begun + when a body of cavalry, with strange pointed helmets, + rode along the path and, seeing us, halted. My + mother, half dead with terror, cried out, ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon Dieu, + ce sont des Uhlans!</em>’ The leader, I suppose an officer, + called out something in German. My father replied. + I do not understand German, so I did not know and + shall never know what they said. But my father + protested in anger and stood in front of the horse + making gestures. And then the officer took out his + revolver and shot him through the heart, and he fell + dead. And the murderer turned his horse’s head + round and he laughed. He laughed, monsieur.”</p> + + <p>“Damn him!” said Doggie, in English. “Damn + him!”</p> + + <p>He gazed deep into Jeanne’s dark tearless eyes. + She continued in the same even voice:</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page183" title="183"> </a>“My mother became mad. She was a peasant, a + Bretonne, where the blood is fierce, and she screamed + and clung to the bridle of the horse. And he rode + her down and the horse trampled on her. Then he + pointed at me, who was supporting the body of my + father, and three men dismounted. But suddenly + he heard something, gave an order, and the men + mounted again, and they all rode away laughing and + jeering, and the last man, in bad French, shouted at + me a foul insult. And I was there, Monsieur Trevor, + with my father dead and my mother stunned and + bruised and bleeding.”</p> + + <p>Doggie, sensitive, quivered to the girl’s tragedy: + he said, with tense face:</p> + + <p>“God give me strength to kill every German I + see!”</p> + + <p>She nodded slowly. “No German is a human + being. If I were God, I would exterminate the + accursed race like wolves.”</p> + + <p>“You are right,” said Doggie. A short silence + fell. He asked: “What happened then?”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon Dieu</em>, I almost forget. I was overwhelmed + with grief and horror. Some hours afterwards a + small body of English infantry came—many of them + had bloodstained bandages. An officer who spoke + a little French questioned me. I told him what had + happened. He spoke with another officer, and + because I recognized the word ‘Uhlans,’ I knew they + were anxious about the patrol. They asked me the + way to some place—I forget where. But I was + lost. They looked at a map. Meanwhile my + mother had recovered consciousness. I gave her a + little wine from the bottle we had opened for our + repast. I happened to look at the officer and saw + him pass his tongue over his cracked lips. All the + <a class="pagenum" id="page184" title="184"> </a>men had thrown themselves down by the side of the + road. I handed him the bottle and the little tin + cup. To my surprise, he did not drink. He said: + ‘Mademoiselle, this is war, and we are all in very + great peril. My men are dying of thirst, and if you + have any more of the wine, give it to them and they + will do their utmost to conduct your mother and yourself + to a place of safety.’ Alas! there were only + three bottles in our little basket of provisions. Naturally + I gave it all—together with the food. He called + a sergeant, who took the provisions and distributed + them, while I was tending my mother. But I noticed + that the two officers took neither bite nor sup. It was + only afterwards, Monsieur Trevor, that I realized I + had seen your great English gentlemen…. Then + they dug a little grave, for my father…. It was + soon finished … the danger was grave … and + some soldiers took a rope and pulled the handcart, + with my mother lying on top of our little possessions, + and I walked with them, until the whole of my life + was blotted out with fatigue. We got on to the + Route Nationale again and mingled again with the + Retreat. And in the night, as we were still marching, + there was a halt. I went to my mother. She was + cold, monsieur, cold and stiff. She was dead.”</p> + + <p>She paused tragically. After a few moments she + continued:</p> + + <p>“I fainted. I do not know what happened till + I recovered consciousness at dawn. I found myself + wrapped in one of our blankets, lying under the + handcart. It was the market-square of a little town. + And there were many—old men and women and + children, refugees like me. I rose and found a paper—a + leaf torn from a notebook—fixed to the handcart. + It was from the officer, bidding me farewell. Military + <a class="pagenum" id="page185" title="185"> </a>necessity forced him to go on with his men—but + he had kept his word, and brought me to a place of + safety…. That is how I first met the English, + Monsieur Trevor. They had carried me, I suppose, + on the handcart, all night, they who were broken + with weariness. I owe them my life and my reason.”</p> + + <p>“And your mother?”</p> + + <p>“How should I know? <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Elle est restée là-bas</em>,” + she replied simply.</p> + + <p>She went on with her sewing. Doggie wondered + how her hand could be so steady. There was a + long silence. What words, save vain imprecations + on the accursed race, were adequate? Presently her + glance rested for a second or two on his sensitive face.</p> + + <p>“Why do you not smoke, Monsieur Trevor?”</p> + + <p>“May I?”</p> + + <p>“Of course. It calms the nerves. I ought not + to have saddened you with my griefs.”</p> + + <p>Doggie took out his pink packet and lit a cigarette.</p> + + <p>“You are very understanding, Mademoiselle + Jeanne. But it does a selfish man like me good to + be saddened by a story like yours. I have not had + much opportunity in my life of feeling for another’s + suffering. And since the war—I am <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">abruti</em>.”</p> + + <p>“You? Do you think if I had not found you + just the reverse, I should have told you all this?”</p> + + <p>“You have paid me a great compliment, Mademoiselle + Jeanne.” Then, after awhile, he asked, + “From the market-square of the little town you found + means to come here?”</p> + + <p>“Alas, no!” she said, putting her work in her + lap again. “I made my way, with my handcart—it + was easy—to our original destination, a little farm + belonging to the eldest brother of my father. The + Farm of La Folette. He lived there alone, a widower, + <a class="pagenum" id="page186" title="186"> </a>with his farm-servants. He had no children. We + thought we were safe. Alas! news came that the + Germans were always advancing. We had time to + fly. All the farm-hands fled, except Père Grigou, + who loved him. But my uncle was obstinate. To + a Frenchman, the soil he possesses is his flesh and his + blood. He would die rather than leave it. And my + uncle had the murder of my father and mother on his + brain. He told Père Grigou to take me away, but + I stayed with him. It was Père Grigou who forced + us to hide. That lasted two days. There was a + well in the farm, and one night Père Grigou tied up + my money and my mother’s jewellery and my father’s + papers, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">enfin</em>, all the precious things we had, in a packet + of waterproof and sank it with a long string down the + well, so that the Germans could not find it. It was + foolish, but he insisted. One day my uncle and + Père Grigou went out of the little copse where we + had been hiding, in order to reconnoitre, for he thought + the Germans might be going away; and my uncle, + who would not listen to me, took his gun. Presently + I heard a shot—and then another. You can guess + what it meant. And soon Père Grigou came, white + and shaking with terror. ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il en a tué un, et on l’a + tué!</em>’”</p> + + <p>“My God!” said Doggie again.</p> + + <p>“It was terrible,” she said. “But they were in + their right.”</p> + + <p>“And then?”</p> + + <p>“We lay hidden until it was dark—how they did + not find us I don’t know—and then we escaped across + country. I thought of coming here to my Aunt + Morin, which is not far from La Folette, but I reflected + that soon the Boches would be here also. And we + went on. We got to a high road—and once more + <a class="pagenum" id="page187" title="187"> </a>I was among troops and refugees. I met some kind + folks in a carriage, a Monsieur and Madame Tarride, + and they took me in. And so I got to Paris, where I + had the hospitality of a friend of the Convent who was + married.”</p> + + <p>“And Père Grigou?”</p> + + <p>“He insisted on going back to bury my uncle. + Nothing could move him. He had not parted from + him all his life. They were foster-brothers. Where + he is now, who knows?” She paused, looked again + at her ghosts, and continued: “That is all, Monsieur + Trevor. The Germans passed through here and + repassed on their retreat, and, as soon as it was safe, I + came to help my aunt, who was <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">souffrante</em>, and had lost + her son. Also because I could not live on charity + on my friend, for, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">voyez-vous</em>, I was without a sou—all + my money having been hidden in the well by + Père Grigou.”</p> + + <p>Doggie leant his elbows on the table.</p> + + <p>“And you have come through all that, Mademoiselle + Jeanne, just as you are——?”</p> + + <p>“How, just as I am?”</p> + + <p>“So gentle and kind and comprehending?”</p> + + <p>Her cheek flushed. “I am not the only Frenchwoman + who has passed through such things and kept + herself proud. But the struggle has been very hard.”</p> + + <p>Doggie rose and clenched his fists and rubbed his + head from front to back in his old indecisive way, and + began to swear incoherently in English. She smiled + sadly.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ah, mon pauvre ami!</em>”</p> + + <p>He wheeled round: “Why do you call me ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mon + pauvre ami</em>’?”</p> + + <p>“Because I see that you would like to help me and + you can’t.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page188" title="188"> </a>“Jeanne,” cried Doggie, bending half over the + table which was between them.</p> + + <p>She rose too, startled, on quick defensive. He said, + in reply to her glance:</p> + + <p>“Why shouldn’t I call you Jeanne?”</p> + + <p>“You haven’t the right.”</p> + + <p>“What if I gain it?”</p> + + <p>“How?”</p> + + <p>“I don’t know,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>The door burst suddenly open and the anxious face + of Mo Shendish appeared.</p> + + <p>“’Ere, you silly cuckoo, don’t yer know you’re + on guard to-night? You’ve just got about thirty + seconds.”</p> + + <p>“Good lord!” cried Doggie, “I forgot. <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bon + soir, mademoiselle. Service militaire</em>,” and he rushed + out.</p> + + <p>Mo lingered, with a grin, and jerked a backward + thumb.</p> + + <p>“If it weren’t for old Mo, miss, I don’t know + what would happen to our friend Doggie. I got to + look after him like a baby, I ’ave. He’s on to relieve + guard, and if old Mac—that’s McPhail”—she nodded + recognition of the name—“and I hadn’t remembered, + miss, he’d ’ave been in what yer might call a ’ole. + Compree?”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui.</em> Yes,” she said. “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Garde. Sentinelle.</em>”</p> + + <p>“Sentinel. Sentry. Right.”</p> + + <p>“He—was—late,” she said, picking out her few + English words from memory.</p> + + <p>“Yuss,” grinned Mo.</p> + + <p>“He—guard—house?”</p> + + <p>“Bless you, miss, you talk English as well as I + do,” cried the admiring Mo. “Yuss. When his + turn comes, up and down in the street, by the + <a class="pagenum" id="page189" title="189"> </a>gate.” He saw her puzzled look. “Roo. Port,” + said he.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ah! oui, je comprends</em>,” smiled Jeanne. “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Merci, + monsieur, et bon soir.</em>”</p> + + <p>“Good night, miss,” said Mo.</p> + + <p>Some time later he disturbed Phineas, by whose side + he slept, from his initial preparation for slumber.</p> + + <p>“Mac! Is there any book I could learn this + blinking lingo from?”</p> + + <p>“Try Ovid—‘Art of Love,’” replied Phineas + sleepily.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XIV"><a class="pagenum" id="page190" title="190"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XIV</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> spell of night sentry duty had always been + Doggie’s black hour. To most of the other + military routine he had grown hardened or deadened. + In the depths of his heart he hated the life as much as + ever. He had schooled himself to go through it + with the dull fatalism of a convict. It was no use + railing at inexorable laws, irremediable conditions. + The only alternative to the acceptance of his position + was military punishment, which was far worse—to + say nothing of the outrage to his pride. It was pride + that kept the little ironical smile on his lips while his + nerves were almost breaking with strain. The first + time he came under fire he was physically sick—not + from fear, for he stood it better than most, keeping an + eye on his captain, whose function it was to show an + unconcerned face—but from sheer nervous reaction + against the hideous noise, the stench, the ghastly upheaval + of the earth, the sight of mangled men. When + the bombardment was over, if he had been alone, he + would have sat down and cried. Never had he grown + accustomed to the foulness of the trenches. The + sounder his physical condition, the more did his + delicately trained senses revolt. It was only when + fierce animal cravings dulled these senses that he could + throw himself down anywhere and sleep, that he could + swallow anything in the way of food or drink. The + rats nearly drove him crazy…. Yet, what had + once been to him a torture, the indecent, nerve-rasping + <a class="pagenum" id="page191" title="191"> </a>publicity of the soldier’s life, had now become a + compensation. It was not so much in companionship, + like his friendly intercourse with Phineas and Mo, + that he found an anodyne, but in the consciousness of + being magnetically affected by the crowd of his fellows. + They offered him protection against himself. Whatever + pangs of self-pity he felt, whatever wan little + pleadings for the bit of fine porcelain compelled to a + rough usage which vessels of coarser clay could disregard + came lingeringly into his mind, he dared not + express them to a living soul around. On the contrary, + he set himself assiduously to cultivate the earthenware + habit of spirit; not to feel, not to think, only + to endure. To a humorously incredulous Jeanne he + proclaimed himself <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">abruti</em>. Finally, the ceaseless grind + of the military machine left him little time to think.</p> + + <p>But in the solitary sleepless hours of sentry duty + there was nothing to do but think; nothing wherewith + to while away the time but an orgy of introspection. + First came the almost paralysing sense of responsibility. + He must keep, not only awake, but alert to the slightest + sound, the slightest movement. Lives of men depended + on his vigilance. A man can’t screw himself up to + this beautifully emotional pitch for very long and be + an efficient sentry. If he did, he would challenge + mice and shoot at cloud-shadows and bring the deuce + of a commotion about his ears. And this Doggie, + who did not lack ordinary intelligence, realized. So + he strove to think of other things. And the other + things all focussed down upon his Doggie self. And + he never knew what to make of his Doggie self at all. + For he would curse the things that he once loved as + being the cause of his inexpiable shame, and at the same + time yearn for them with an agony of longing.</p> + + <p>And he would force himself to think of Peggy and + <a class="pagenum" id="page192" title="192"> </a>her unswerving loyalty. Of her weekly parcel of + dainty food, which had arrived that morning. Of + the joy of Phineas and the disappointment of the + unsophisticated Mo over the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pâté de foie gras</em>. But + his mind wandered back to his Doggie self and its + humiliations and its needs and its yearnings. He + welcomed enemy flares and star-shells and excursions + and alarms. They kept him from thinking, enabled + him to pass the time. But in the dead, lonely, silent + dark, the hours were like centuries. He dreaded them.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">To-night they fled like minutes. It was a pitch-black + night, spitting fine rain. It was one of Doggie’s + private grievances that it invariably rained when he + was on sentry duty. One of Heaven’s little ways of + strafing him for Doggieism. But to-night he did not + heed it. Often the passage of transport had been a + distraction for which he had longed and which, when + it came, was warmly welcome. But to-night, during + his spell, the roadway of the village was as still as death, + and he loved the stillness and the blackness. Once he + had welcomed familiar approaching steps. Now he + resented them.</p> + + <p>“Who goes there?”</p> + + <p>“Rounds.”</p> + + <p>And the officer, recognized, flashing an electric + torch, passed on. The diminuendo of his footsteps + was agreeable to Doggie’s ear. The rain dripped + monotonously off his helmet on to his sodden shoulders, + but Doggie did not mind. Now and then he strained + an eye upwards to that part of the living-house that was + above the gateway. Little streaks of light came downwards + through the shutter slats. Now it required + no great intellectual effort to surmise that the light + proceeded, not from the bedroom of the invalid + <a class="pagenum" id="page193" title="193"> </a>Madame Morin, who would naturally have the best + bedroom situated in the comfortable main block of + the house, but from that of somebody else. Madame + Morin was therefore ruled out. So was Toinette—ridiculous + to think of her keeping all night vigil. + There remained only Jeanne.</p> + + <p>It was supremely silly of him to march with super-martiality + of tread up the pavement; but then, it is often + the way of young men to do supremely silly things.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">The next day was fuss and bustle, from the private + soldier’s point of view. They were marching back to the + trenches that night, and a crack company must take + over with flawless equipment and in flawless bodily + health. In the afternoon Doggie had a breathing spell + of leisure. He walked boldly into the kitchen.</p> + + <p>“Madame,” said he to Toinette, “I suppose you + know that we are leaving to-night?”</p> + + <p>The old woman sighed. “It is always like that. + They come, they make friends, they go, and they + never return.”</p> + + <p>“You mustn’t make the little soldier weep, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grand’mère</em>,” + said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“No. It is the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grand’mères</em> who weep,” replied + Toinette.</p> + + <p>“I’ll come back all right,” said he. “Where is + Mademoiselle Jeanne?”</p> + + <p>“She is upstairs, monsieur.”</p> + + <p>“If she had gone out, I should have been disappointed,” + smiled Doggie.</p> + + <p>“You desire to see her, monsieur?”</p> + + <p>“To thank her before I go for her kindness to me.”</p> + + <p>The old face wrinkled into a smile.</p> + + <p>“It was not then for the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">beaux yeux</em> of the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grand’mère</em> + that you entered?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page194" title="194"> </a>”<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Si, si!</em> Of course it was,” he protested. “But + one, nevertheless, must be polite to mademoiselle.”</p> + + <p>“<em>Aïe! aïe!</em>” said the old woman, bustling out: + “I’ll call her.”</p> + + <p>Presently Jeanne came in alone, calm, cool, and in + her plain black dress, looking like a sweet Fate. From + the top of her dark brown hair to her trim, stout shoes, + she gave the impression of being exquisitely ordered, + bodily and spiritually.</p> + + <p>“It was good of you to come,” he cried, and they + shook hands instinctively, scarcely realizing it was + for the first time. But he was sensitive to the frank + grip of her long and slender fingers.</p> + + <p>“Toinette said you wished to see me.”</p> + + <p>“We are going to-night. I had to come and bid + you <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">au revoir</em>!”</p> + + <p>“Is the company returning?”</p> + + <p>“So I hear the quartermaster says. Are you glad?”</p> + + <p>“Yes, I am glad. One doesn’t like to lose friends.”</p> + + <p>“You regard me as a friend, Jeanne?”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pour sûr</em>,” she replied simply.</p> + + <p>“Then you don’t mind my calling you Jeanne?” + said he.</p> + + <p>“What does it matter? There are graver questions + at stake in the world.”</p> + + <p>She crossed the kitchen and opened the yard door + which Doggie had closed behind him. Meeting a + query in his glance, she said:</p> + + <p>“I like the fresh air, and I don’t like secrecy.”</p> + + <p>She leaned against the edge of the table and Doggie, + emboldened, seated himself on the corner by her + side, and they looked out into the little flagged courtyard + in which the men, some in grey shirt-sleeves, some + in tunics, were lounging about among the little piles of + accoutrements and packs. Here and there a man was + <a class="pagenum" id="page195" title="195"> </a>shaving by the aid of a bit of mirror supported on a + handcart. Jests and laughter were flung in the quiet + afternoon air. A little group were feeding pigeons + which, at the sight of crumbs, had swarmed iridescent + from the tall <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">colombier</em> in the far corner near the + gabled barn. As Jeanne did not speak, at last Doggie + bent forward and, looking into her eyes, found them + moist with tears.</p> + + <p>“What is the matter, Jeanne?” he asked in a low + voice.</p> + + <p>“The war, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mon ami</em>,” she replied, turning her face + towards him, “the haunting tragedy of the war. + I don’t know how to express what I mean. If all + those brave fellows there went about with serious + faces, I should not be affected. <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais, voyez-vous, + leur gaieté fait peur.</em>”</p> + + <p><em>Their laughter frightened her.</em> Doggie, with his + quick responsiveness, understood. She had put into + a phrase the haunting tragedy of the war. The + eternal laughter of youth quenched in a gurgle of the + throat.</p> + + <p>He said admiringly: “You are a wonderful woman, + Jeanne.”</p> + + <p>Her delicate shoulders moved, ever so little. “A + woman? I suppose I am. The day before we fled + from Cambrai it was my <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">jour de fête</em>. I was eighteen.”</p> + + <p>Doggie drew in his breath with a little gasp. He + had thought she was older than he.</p> + + <p>“I am twenty-seven,” he said.</p> + + <p>She looked at him calmly and critically. “Yes. + Now I see. Until now I should have given you more. + But the war ages people. Isn’t it true?”</p> + + <p>“I suppose so,” said Doggie. Then he had a + brilliant idea. “But when the war is over, we’ll + remain the same age for ever and ever.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page196" title="196"> </a>“Do you think so?”</p> + + <p>“I’m sure of it. We’ll still both be in our twenties. + Let us suppose the war puts ten years of experience and + suffering, and what not, on to our lives. We’ll only + then be in our thirties—and nothing possibly can + happen to make us grow any older. At seventy we + shall still be thirty.”</p> + + <p>“You are consoling,” she admitted. “But what + if the war had added thirty years to one’s life? What + if I felt now an old woman of fifty? But yes, it is + quite true. I have the feelings and the disregard + of convention of a woman of fifty. If there had been + no war, do you think I could have gone among + an English army—<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sans gêne</em>—like an old matron? + Do you think a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">jeune fille française bien élevée</em> could + have talked to you alone as I have done the past two + days? Absurd. The explanation is the war.”</p> + + <p>Doggie laughed. “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive la guerre!</em>” said he.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais non!</em> Be serious. We must come to an + understanding.”</p> + + <p>In her preoccupation she forgot the rules laid down + for the guidance of <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">jeunes filles bien élevées</em>, and unthinkingly + perched herself full on the kitchen table on the + corner of which Doggie sat in a one-legged way. + Doggie gasped again. All her assumed age fell from + her like a garment. Youth proclaimed itself in her + attitude and the supple lines of her figure. She was + but a girl after all, a girl with a steadfast soul that had + been tried in unutterable fires; but a girl appealing, + desirable. He felt mighty protective.</p> + + <p>“An understanding? All right,” said he.</p> + + <p>“I don’t want you to go away and think ill of me—that + I am one of those women—<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">les affranchies</em> I think + they call them—who think themselves above social + laws. I am not. I am <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bourgeoise</em> to my finger-tips, + <a class="pagenum" id="page197" title="197"> </a>and I reverence all the old maxims and prejudices in + which I was born. But conditions are different. + It is just like the priests who have been called into the + ranks. To look at them from the outside, you would + never dream they were priests—but their hearts and + their souls are untouched.”</p> + + <p>She was so earnest, in her pathetic youthfulness, to + put herself right with him, so unlike the English girls of + his acquaintance, who would have taken this chance + companionship as a matter of course, that his face lost + the smile and became grave, and he met her sad eyes.</p> + + <p>“That was very bravely said, Jeanne. To me + you will be always the most wonderful woman I have + ever known.”</p> + + <p>“What caused you to speak to me the first day?” + she asked, after a pause.</p> + + <p>“I explained to you—to apologize for staring + rudely into your house.”</p> + + <p>“It was not because you said to yourself, ‘Here + is a pretty girl looking at me. I’ll go and talk to + her’?”</p> + + <p>Doggie threw his leg over the corner of the table + and stood on indignant feet.</p> + + <p>“Jeanne! How could you——?” he cried.</p> + + <p>She leaned back, her open palms on the table. The + rare light came into her eyes.</p> + + <p>“That’s what I wanted to know. Now we understand + each other, Monsieur Trevor.”</p> + + <p>“I wish you wouldn’t call me Monsieur Trevor,” + said he.</p> + + <p>“What else can I call you? I know no other + name.”</p> + + <p>Now he had in his pocket a letter from Peggy, + received that morning, beginning “My dearest + Marmaduke.” Peggy seemed far away, and the name + <a class="pagenum" id="page198" title="198"> </a>still farther. He was deliberating whether he should + say “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Appelez-moi James</em>” or “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Appelez-moi Jacques</em>,” + and inclining to the latter as being more picturesque + and intimate, when she went on:</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Tenez</em>, what is it your comrades call you? ‘Doggie’?”</p> + + <p>“Say that again.”</p> + + <p>“Dog-gie.”</p> + + <p>He had never dreamed that the hated appellation + could sound so adorable. Well—no one except his + officers called him by any other name, and it came + with a visible charm from her lips. It brought about + the most fascinating flash of the tips of her white + teeth. He laughed.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">A la guerre comme à la guerre.</em> If you call me + that, you belong to the regiment. And I promise you, + it is a fine regiment.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Eh bien</em>, Monsieur Dog-gie——”</p> + + <p>“There’s no monsieur about it,” he declared, + very happily. “Tommies are not <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">messieurs</em>.”</p> + + <p>“I know one who is,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>So they talked in a young and foolish way, and + Jeanne for a while forgot the tragedies that had gone + and the tragedies that might come; and Doggie + forgot both the peacock and ivory room and the fetid + hole into which he would have to creep when the night’s + march was over. They talked of simple things. + Of Toinette, who had been with Aunt Morin ever + since she could remember.</p> + + <p>“You have won her heart with your snuff.”</p> + + <p>“She has won mine with her discretion.”</p> + + <p>“Oh-h!” said Jeanne, shocked.</p> + + <p>And so on and so forth, as they sat side by side on + the kitchen table, swinging their feet. After a while + they drifted to graver questions.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page199" title="199"> </a>“What will happen to you, Jeanne, if your aunt + dies?”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon Dieu!</em>” said Jeanne——</p> + + <p>“But you will inherit the property, and the business?”</p> + + <p>By no means. Aunt Morin had still a son, who was + already very old. He must be forty-six. He had + expatriated himself many years ago and was in Madagascar. + The son who was killed was her Benjamin, + the child of her old age. But all her little fortune + would go to the colonial Gaspard, whom Jeanne had + never seen.</p> + + <p>But the Farm of La Folette?</p> + + <p>“It has been taken and retaken by Germans and + French and English, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mon pauvre ami</em>, until there is no + farm left. You ought to understand that.”</p> + + <p>It was a thing that Doggie most perfectly understood: + a patch of hideous wilderness, of poisoned, + shell-scarred, ditch-defiled, barren, loathsome earth.</p> + + <p>And her other relations? Only an uncle, her + father’s youngest brother, a curé in Douai in enemy + occupation. She had not heard of him since the + flight from Cambrai.</p> + + <p>“But what is going to become of you?”</p> + + <p>“So long as one keeps a brave heart what, does + it matter? I am strong. I have a good enough + education. I can earn my living. Oh, don’t make + any mistake. I have no pity for myself. Those who + waste efforts in pitying themselves are not of the stuff + to make France victorious.”</p> + + <p>“I am afraid I have done a lot of self-pitying, Jeanne.”</p> + + <p>“Don’t do it any more,” she said gently.</p> + + <p>“I won’t,” said he.</p> + + <p>“If you keep to the soul you have gained, you + can’t,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page200" title="200"> </a>”<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Toujours la sagesse.</em>”</p> + + <p>“You are laughing at me.”</p> + + <p>“God forbid,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>Phineas and Mo came strolling towards the kitchen + door.</p> + + <p>“My two friends, to pay their visit of adieu,” said + he.</p> + + <p>Jeanne slid from the table and welcomed the newcomers + in her calm, dignified way. Once more + Doggie found himself regarding her as his senior in + age and wisdom and conduct of life. The pathetic + girlishness which she had revealed to him had gone. + The age-investing ghosts had returned.</p> + + <p>Mo grinned, interjected a British Army French + word now and then, and manifested delight when + Jeanne understood. Phineas talked laboriously, endeavouring + to expound his responsibility for Doggie’s + welfare. He had been his tutor. He used the word + “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tuteur</em>.”</p> + + <p>“That’s a guardian, you silly ass,” cried Doggie. + “He means ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">instituteur</em>.’ Go on. Or, rather, don’t + go on. The lady isn’t interested.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais si</em>,” said Jeanne, catching at the last English + word. “It interests me greatly.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Merci, mademoiselle</em>,” said Phineas grandly. “I + only wish to explain to you that while I live you + need have no fear for Doggie. I will protect him + with my body from shells and promise to bring him + safe back to you. And so will Monsieur Shendish.”</p> + + <p>“What’s that?” asked Mo.</p> + + <p>Phineas translated.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui, oui, oui!</em>” said Mo, nodding vigorously.</p> + + <p>A spot of colour burned on Jeanne’s pale cheek, + and Doggie grew red under his tanned skin. He + cursed Phineas below his breath, and exchanged a + <a class="pagenum" id="page201" title="201"> </a>significant glance with Mo. Jeanne said, in her even + voice:</p> + + <p>“I hope all the Three Musketeers will come back + safe.”</p> + + <p>Mo extended a grimy hand. “Well, good-bye, + miss! McPhail here and I must be going.”</p> + + <p>She shook hands with both, wishing them <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bonne + chance</em>, and they strolled away. Doggie lingered.</p> + + <p>“You mustn’t mind what McPhail says. He’s + only an old imbecile.”</p> + + <p>“You have two comrades who love you. That + is the principal thing.”</p> + + <p>“I think they do, each in his way. As for + Mo——”</p> + + <p>“Mo?” She laughed. “He is delicious.”</p> + + <p>“Well——” said he reluctantly, after a pause, + “good-bye, Jeanne.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Au revoir</em>—Dog-gie.”</p> + + <p>“If I shouldn’t come back—I mean if we were + billeted somewhere else—I should like to write to + you.”</p> + + <p>“Well—Mademoiselle Bossière, chez Madame + Morin, Frélus. That is the address.”</p> + + <p>“And will you write too?”</p> + + <p>Without waiting for a reply, he scribbled what was + necessary on a sheet torn from a notebook and gave + it to her. Their hands met.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Au revoir</em>, Jeanne.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Au revoir</em>, Dog-gie. But I shall see you again + to-night.”</p> + + <p>“Where?”</p> + + <p>“It is my secret. <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bonne chance.</em>”</p> + + <p>She smiled and turned to leave the kitchen. Doggie + clattered into the yard.</p> + + <p>“Been doin’ a fine bit o’ coartin’, Doggie,” said + <a class="pagenum" id="page202" title="202"> </a>Private Appleyard from Taunton, who was sitting on a + box near by and writing a letter on his knees.</p> + + <p>“Not so much of your courting, Spud,” replied + Doggie cheerfully. “Who are you writing to? + Your best girl?”</p> + + <p>“I be writin’ to my own lawful mizzus,” replied + Spud Appleyard.</p> + + <p>“Then give her my love. Doggie Trevor’s love,” + said Doggie, and marched away through the groups of + men.</p> + + <p>At the entrance to the barn he fell in with Phineas + and Mo.</p> + + <p>“Laddie,” said the former, “although I meant + it at the time as a testimony of my affection, I’ve + been thinking that what I said to the young leddy + may not have been over-tactful.”</p> + + <p>“It was taking it too much for granted,” explained + Mo, “that you and her were sort of keeping company.”</p> + + <p>“You’re a pair of idiots,” said Doggie, sitting + down between them, and taking out his pink packet + of Caporal. “Have a cigarette?”</p> + + <p>“Not if I wos dying of——Look ’ere,” said Mo, + with the light on his face of the earnest seeker after + Truth. “If a chap ain’t got no food, he’s dying + of ’unger. If he ain’t got no drink, he’s dying of + thirst. What the ’ell is he dying of if he ain’t got no + tobakker?”</p> + + <p>“Army Service Corps,” said Phineas, pulling out + his pipe.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">It was dark when A Company marched away. + Doggie had seen nothing more of Jeanne. He was + just a little disappointed; for she had promised. He + could not associate her with light words. Yet perhaps + <a class="pagenum" id="page203" title="203"> </a>she had kept her promise. She had said “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je vous + verrai.</em>” She had not undertaken to exhibit herself + to him. He derived comfort from the thought. + There was, indeed, something delicate and subtle and + enchanting in the notion. As on the previous day, the + fine weather had changed with the night and a fine rain + was falling. Doggie, an indistinguishable pack-laden + ant in the middle of the four-abreast ribbon of similar + pack-laden ants, tramped on in silence, thinking his + own thoughts. A regiment going back to the trenches + in the night is, from the point of view of the pomp + and circumstance of glorious war, a very lugubrious + procession. The sight of it would have hurt an old-time + poet. An experienced regiment has no lovely + illusions. It knows what it is going to, and the knowledge + makes it serious. It would much rather be + in bed or on snug straw than plodding through the + rain to four days and nights of eternal mud and stinking + high-explosive shell. It sets its teeth and is a very + stern, silent, ugly conglomeration of men.</p> + + <p>“—— (<em>the adjective</em>) night,” growled Doggie’s + right-hand neighbour.</p> + + <p>“—— (<em>the adjective</em>)” Doggie responded mechanically.</p> + + <p>But to Doggie it was less “——” (<em>adjective as + before</em>) than usual. Jeanne’s denunciation of self-pity + had struck deep. Compared with her calamities, + half of which would have been the stock-in-trade of + a Greek dramatist wherewith to wring tears from + mankind for a couple of thousand years, what were his + own piffling grievances? As for the “——” night, + instead of a drizzle he would have welcomed a waterspout. + Something that really mattered…. Let + the heavens or the Hun rain molten lead. Something + that would put him on an equality with Jeanne…. + <a class="pagenum" id="page204" title="204"> </a>Jeanne, with her dark haunting eyes and mobile lips, + and her slim young figure and her splendid courage. + A girl apart from the girls he had known, apart from + the women he had known, the women whom he had + imagined—and he had not imagined many—his training + had atrophied such imaginings of youth. Jeanne. + Again her name conjured up visions of the Great Jeanne + of Domrémy. If only he could have seen her once + again!</p> + + <p>At the north end of the village the road took a sharp + twist, skirting a bit of rising ground. There was just + a glimmer of a warning light which streamed athwart + the turning ribbon of laden ants. And as Doggie + wheeled through the dim ray he heard a voice that rang + out clear:</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bonne chance!</em>”</p> + + <p>He looked up swiftly. Caught the shadow of a + shadow. But it was enough. It was Jeanne. She + had kept her promise. The men responded incoherently, + waving their hands, and Doggie’s shout of + “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Merci!</em>” was lost. But though he knew, with a + wonderful throbbing knowledge, that Jeanne’s cry + was meant for him alone, he was thrilled by his + comrades’ instant response to Jeanne’s voice. Not a + man but he knew that it was Jeanne. But no matter. + The company paid homage to Jeanne. Jeanne who + had come out in the rain and the wind and the dark, + and had waited, waited, to redeem her promise. + “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">C’est mon secret.</em>”</p> + + <p>He ploughed on. Left, right! Thud, thud! + Left, right! Jeanne, Jeanne!</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XV"><a class="pagenum" id="page205" title="205"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XV</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">In</span> the village of Frélus life went on as before. + The same men, though a different regiment, + filled its streets and its houses; for by what signs could + the inhabitants distinguish one horde of English infantrymen + from another? Once a Highland battalion + had been billeted on them, and for the first day or so + they derived some excitement from the novelty of the + costume; the historic Franco-Scottish tradition still + lingered, and they welcomed the old allies of France + with especial kindliness; but they found that the habits + and customs of the men in kilts were identical, in their + French eyes, with those of the men in trousers. It + is true the Scotch had bagpipes. The village turned + out to listen to them in whole-eyed and whole-eared + wonder. And the memory of the skirling music + remained indelible. Otherwise there was little difference. + And when a Midland regiment succeeded a + South Coast regiment, where was the difference at all? + They might be the same men.</p> + + <p>Jeanne, standing by the kitchen door, watching + the familiar scene in the courtyard, could scarcely + believe there had been a change. Now and again she + caught herself wondering why she could not pick + out any one of her Three Musketeers. There were + two or three soldiers, as usual, helping Toinette with + her crocks at the well. There she was, herself, + moving among them, as courteously treated as though + she were a princess. Perhaps these men, whom she + <a class="pagenum" id="page206" title="206"> </a>heard had come from manufacturing centres, were a + trifle rougher in their manners than her late guests; + but the intention of civility and rude chivalry was no + less sincere. They came and asked for odds and + ends very politely. To all intents and purposes they + were the same set of men. Why was not Doggie + among them? It seemed very strange.</p> + + <p>After a while she made some sort of an acquaintance + with a sergeant who had a few words of French + and appeared anxious to improve his knowledge of + the language. He explained that he had been a + teacher in what corresponded to the French <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ecoles + Normales</em>. He came from Birmingham, which he + gave her to understand was a glorified Lille. She + found him very earnest, very self-centred in his worship + of efficiency. As he had striven for his class of boys, + so now was he striving for his platoon of men. In a + dogmatic way he expounded to her ideals severely + practical. In their few casual conversations he + interested her. The English, from the first terrible + day of their association with her, had commanded + her deep admiration. But until lately—in the most + recent past—her sex, her national aloofness and her + ignorance of English, had restrained her from familiar + talk with the British Army. But now she keenly desired + to understand this strange, imperturbable, kindly race. + She put many questions to the sergeant—always at + the kitchen door, in full view of the courtyard, for she + never thought of admitting him into the house—and + his answers, even when he managed to make himself + intelligible, puzzled her exceedingly. One of his + remarks led her to ask for what he was fighting, + beyond his apparently fixed idea of the efficiency of + the men under his control. What was the spiritual + idea at the back of him?</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page207" title="207"> </a>“The democratization of the world and the universal + brotherhood of mankind.”</p> + + <p>“When the British Lion shall lie down with the + German Lamb?”</p> + + <p>He flashed a suspicious glance. Strenuous schoolmasters + in primary schools have little time for the + cultivation of a sense of humour.</p> + + <p>“Something of the sort must be the ultimate result + of the war.”</p> + + <p>“But in the meantime you have got to change the + German wolf into the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">petit mouton</em>. How are you + going to do it?”</p> + + <p>“By British efficiency. By proving to him that + we are superior to him in every way. We’ll teach + him that it doesn’t pay to be a wolf.”</p> + + <p>“And do you think he will like being transformed + into a lamb, while you remain a lion?”</p> + + <p>“I don’t suppose so, but we’ll give him his chance + to try to become a lion too.”</p> + + <p>Jeanne shook her head. “No, monsieur, wolf he + is and wolf he will remain. A wolf with venomous + teeth. The civilized world must see that the teeth + are always drawn.”</p> + + <p>“I’m speaking of fifty years hence,” said the sergeant.</p> + + <p>“And I of three hundred years hence.”</p> + + <p>“You’re mistaken, mademoiselle.”</p> + + <p>Jeanne shook her head. “No. I’m not mistaken. + Tell me. Why do you want to become brother to + the Boche?”</p> + + <p>“I’m not going to be his brother till the war’s + over,” said the sergeant stolidly. “At present I am + devoting all my faculties to killing as many of him + as I can.”</p> + + <p>She smiled. “Sufficient for the day is the good + thereof. Go on killing them, monsieur. The more + <a class="pagenum" id="page208" title="208"> </a>you kill the fewer there will be for your children and + your grandchildren to lie down with.”</p> + + <p>She left him and tried to puzzle out his philosophy. + For the ordinary French philosophy of the war is very + simple. They have no high-falutin, altruistic ideas + of improving the Boche. They don’t care a tinker’s + curse what happens to the unholy brood beyond the + Rhine, so long as they are beaten, humiliated, subjected: + so long as there is no chance of their ever deflowering + again with their brutality the sacred soil of France. + The French mind cannot conceive the idea of this + beautiful brotherhood; but, on the contrary, rejects + it as something loathsome, something bordering on + spiritual defilement….</p> + + <p>No; Jeanne could not accept the theory that we + were waging war for the ultimate chastening and + beatification of Germany. She preferred Doggie’s + reason for fighting. For his soul. There was something + which she could grip. And having gripped + it, it was something around which her imagination + could weave a web of noble fancy. After all, when she + came to think of it, every one of the Allies must be + fighting for his soul. For his soul’s sake had not her + father died? Although she knew no word of German, + it was obvious that the Uhlan officer had murdered + him because he had refused to betray his country. + And her uncle. To fight for his soul, had he not gone + out with his heroic but futile sporting gun? And this + pragmatical sergeant? What else had led him from + his schoolroom to the battlefield? Why couldn’t he be + honest about it, like Doggie?</p> + + <p>She missed Doggie. He ought to be there, as she + had often seen him unobserved, talking with his + friends or going about his military duties, or playing + the flageolet with the magical touch of the musician. + <a class="pagenum" id="page209" title="209"> </a>She knew far more of Doggie than he was aware + of … And at night she prayed for the little English + soldier who was facing Death.</p> + + <p>She had much time to think of him during the + hours when she sat by the bedside of Aunt Morin, + who talked incessantly of François-Marie who was + killed on the Argonne, and Gaspard who, as a <em>territorial</em>, + was no doubt defending Madagascar from invasion. + And it was pleasant to think of him, because he was a + new distraction from tragical memories. He seemed + to lay the ghosts … He was different from all the + Englishmen she had met. The young officers who + had helped her in her flight, had very much the same + charm of breeding, very much the same intonation + of voice; instinctively she knew him to be of the + same social caste; but they, and the officers whom + she saw about the street and in the courtyard, when + duty called them there, had the military air of command. + And this her little English soldier had not. + Of course, he was only a private, and privates are + trained to obedience. She knew that perfectly well. + But why was he not commanding instead of obeying? + There was a reason for it. She had seen it in his eyes. + She wished she had made him talk more about himself. + Perhaps she had been unsympathetic and selfish. He + assumed, she reflected, a certain <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">crânerie</em> with his + fellows—and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">crânerie</em> is “swagger” bereft of vulgarity—we + have no word to connote its conception + in a French mind—and she admired it; but her swift + intuition pierced the assumption. She divined a + world of hesitancies behind the Musketeer swing of + the shoulders. He was so gentle, so sensitive, so + quick to understand. And yet so proud. And yet + again so unconfessedly dependent. Her woman’s + protective instinct responded to a mute appeal.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page210" title="210"> </a>“But, Ma’amselle Jeanne, you are wet through, + you are perished with cold. What folly have you + been committing?” Toinette scolded, when she + returned after wishing Doggie the last “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bonne chance</em>.”</p> + + <p>“The folly of putting my Frenchwoman’s heart + (<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mon cœur de Française</em>) into the hands of a brave little + soldier to fight with him in the trenches.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon Dieu, ma’amselle</em>, you had better go straight + to bed, and I will bring you a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bon tilleul</em>, which will calm + your nerves and produce a good perspiration.”</p> + + <p>So Toinette put Jeanne to bed and administered + the infallible infusion of lime leaves, and Jeanne was + never the worse for her adventure. But the next day + she wondered a little why she had undertaken it. She + had a vague idea that it paid a little debt of sympathy.</p> + + <p>An evening or two afterwards Jeanne was sewing in + the kitchen when Toinette, sitting in the arm-chair + by the extinct fire, fished out of her pocket the little + olive-wood box with the pansies and forget-me-nots + on the lid, and took a long pinch of snuff. She did + it with somewhat of an air which caused Jeanne to + smile.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Dites donc</em>, Toinette, you are insupportable with + your snuff-box. One would say a marquise of the + old school.”</p> + + <p>“Ah, Ma’amselle Jeanne,” said the old woman, + “you must not laugh at me. I was just thinking + that, if anything happened to the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">petit monsieur</em>, I + couldn’t have the heart to go on putting his snuff + up my old nose.”</p> + + <p>“Nothing will happen to him,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>The old woman sighed and re-engulfed the snuff-box. + “Who knows? From one minute to another + who knows whether the little ones who are dear to + us are alive or dead?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page211" title="211"> </a>“And this <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">petit monsieur</em> is dear to you, Toinette?” + Jeanne asked, in her even voice, without looking + up from her sewing.</p> + + <p>“Since he resembles my <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">petiot</em>.”</p> + + <p>“He will come back,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“I hope so,” said the old woman mournfully.</p> + + <p>In spite of manifold duties, Jeanne found the days + curiously long. She slept badly. The tramp of the + sentry below her window over the archway brought her + no sense of comfort, as it had done for months before + the coming of Doggie. All the less did it produce the + queer little thrill of happiness which was hers when, + looking down through the shutter slats she had identified + in the darkness, on a change of guard, the little + English soldier to whom she had spoken so intimately. + And when he had challenged the rounds, she had + recognized his voice…. If she had obeyed an + imbecile and unmaidenly impulse, she would have + drawn open the shutter and revealed herself. But + apart from maidenly shrinkings, familiarity with war + had made her realize the sacred duties of a sentry, + and she had remained in discreet seclusion, awake + until his spell was over. But now the rhythmical + beat of the heavy boots kept her from sleeping and + would have irritated her nerves intolerably had not + her sound common sense told her that the stout fellow + who wore them was protecting her from the Hun, + together with a million or so of his fellow-countrymen.</p> + + <p>She found herself counting the days to Doggie’s + return.</p> + + <p>“At last, it is to-morrow!” she said to Toinette.</p> + + <p>“What is it to-morrow?” asked the old woman.</p> + + <p>“The return of our regiment,” replied Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“That is good. We have a regiment now,” said + Toinette ironically.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page212" title="212"> </a>The Midland company marched away—as so many + had marched away before; but Jeanne did not go + to the little embankment at the turn of the road to + wish anyone good luck. She stood at the house + door, as she had always done, to watch them pass + in the darkness; for there is always something in the + sight of men going into battle which gives you a lump + in the throat. For Jeanne it had almost grown into + a religious practice.</p> + + <p>The sergeant had told her that the new-comers + would arrive at dawn. She slept a little; awoke with + a start as day began to break; dressed swiftly, and + went downstairs to wait. And then her ear caught the + rumble and the tramp of the approaching battalion. + Presently transport rolled by, and squads of men, + haggard in the grey light, bending double under their + packs, staggered along to their billets. And then + came a rusty crew, among whom she recognized + McPhail’s tall gaunt figure. She stood by the gateway, + bareheaded, in her black dress and blue apron, + defying the sharp morning air, and watched them pass + through. She saw Mo Shendish, his eyes on the heels + of the man in front. She recognized nearly all. + But the man she looked for was not there.</p> + + <p>He could not have passed without her seeing him; + but as soon as the gateway was clear, she ran into the + courtyard and fled across it to cut off the men. There + was no Doggie. Blank disappointment was succeeded + by sudden terror.</p> + + <p>Phineas saw her coming. He stumbled up to her, + dropped his pack at her feet, and spread out both his + hands. She lost sight of the horde of weary clay-covered + men around her. She cried:</p> + + <p>“Where is he?”</p> + + <p>“I don’t know.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page213" title="213"> </a>“He is dead?”</p> + + <p>“No one knows.”</p> + + <p>“But you must know, you!” cried Jeanne, with a + new fear in her eyes which Phineas could not bear + to meet. “You promised to bring him back.”</p> + + <p>“It was not my fault,” said Phineas. “He was + out last night—no, the night before, this is morning—repairing + barbed wire. I was not with him.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais, mon Dieu</em>, why not?”</p> + + <p>“Because the duties of soldiers are arranged for + them by their officers, mademoiselle.”</p> + + <p>“It is true. Pardon. But continue.”</p> + + <p>“A party went out to repair wire. It was quite + dark. Suddenly a German rifle-shot gave the alarm. + The enemy threw up star-shells and the front trenches + on each side opened fire. The wiring party, of course, + lay flat on the ground. One of them was wounded. + When it was all over—it didn’t last long—our men + got back, bringing the wounded man.”</p> + + <p>“He is severely wounded? Speak,” cried Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“The wounded man was not Doggie. Doggie + went out with the party, but he did not come back. + That’s why I said no one knows where he is.”</p> + + <p>She stiffened. “He is lying out there. He is dead.”</p> + + <p>“Shendish and I and Corporal Wilson over there, + who was with the party, got permission to go out and + search. We searched all round where the repair + had been going on. But we could not find him.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Merci!</em> I ought not to have reproached you,” + she said steadily. “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">C’est un grand malheur.</em>”</p> + + <p>“You are right. Life for me is no longer of much + value.”</p> + + <p>She looked at him in her penetrating way.</p> + + <p>“I believe you,” she said. “For the moment, + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">au revoir</em>. You must be worn out with fatigue.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page214" title="214"> </a>She left him and walked through the straggling men, + who made respectful way for her. All knew of her + friendship with Doggie Trevor and all realized the + nature of this interview. They liked Doggie because + he was good-natured and plucky, and never complained + and would play the whistle on march as long as breath + enough remained in his body. As his uncle, the + Dean, had said, breed told. In a curious, half-grudging + way they recognized the fact. They laughed at his + singular inefficiency in the multitudinous arts of the + handy-man, proficiency in which is expected from the + modern private, but they knew that he would go on + till he dropped. And knowing that, they saved him + from many a reprimand which his absurd efforts in + the arts aforesaid would have brought upon him. + And now that Doggie was gone, they deplored his + loss. But so many had gone. So many had been + deplored. Human nature is only capable of a certain + amount of deploring while retaining its sanity. The + men let the pale French girl, who was Doggie Trevor’s + friend, pass by in respectful silence—and that, for + them, was their final tribute to Doggie Trevor.</p> + + <p>Jeanne passed into the kitchen. Toinette drew a + sharp breath at the sight of her face.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Quoi? Il n’est pas là?</em>”</p> + + <p>“No,” said Jeanne. “He is wounded.” It was + impossible to explain to Toinette.</p> + + <p>“Badly?”</p> + + <p>“They don’t know.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oh, là, là!</em>” sighed Toinette. “That always + happens. That is what I told you.”</p> + + <p>“We have no time to think of such things,” said + Jeanne.</p> + + <p>The regimental cooks came up for the hot water, + and soon the hungry, weary, nerve-racked men were + <a class="pagenum" id="page215" title="215"> </a>served with the morning meal. And Jeanne stood in the + courtyard in front of the kitchen door and helped with + the filling of the tea-kettles, as though no little English + soldier called “Dog-gie” had ever existed in the + regiment.</p> + + <p>The first pale shaft of sunlight fell upon the kitchen + side of the courtyard, and in it Jeanne stood illuminated. + It touched the shades of gold in her dark brown hair, + and lit up her pale face and great unsmiling eyes. + But her lips smiled valiantly.</p> + + <p>“What do yer think, Mac,” said Mo Shendish, + squatting on the flagstones, “do you think she was + really sweet on him?”</p> + + <p>“Man,” replied Phineas, similarly engaged, “all I + know is that she has added him to her collection of + ghosts. It’s not an over-braw company for a lassie + to live with.”</p> + + <p>And then, soon afterwards, the trench-broken men + stumbled into the barn to sleep, and all was quiet + again, and Jeanne went about her daily tasks with + the familiar hand of death once more closing icily + around her heart.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XVI"><a class="pagenum" id="page216" title="216"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XVI</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> sick-room was very hot, and Aunt Morin + very querulous. Jeanne opened a window, + but Aunt Morin complained of currents of air. Did + Jeanne want to kill her? So Jeanne closed the window. + The internal malady from which Aunt Morin suffered, + and from which it was unlikely that she would recover, + caused her considerable pain from time to + time; and on these occasions she grew fractious and + hard to bear with. The retired septuagenarian village + doctor who had taken the modest practice of his son, + now far away with the Army, advised an operation. + But Aunt Morin, with her peasant’s prejudice, declined + flatly. She knew what happened in those hospitals + where they cut people up just for the pleasure of + looking at their insides. She was not going to let a + lot of butchers amuse themselves with her old carcass. + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oh non!</em> When it pleased the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bon Dieu</em> to take her, + she was ready: the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bon Dieu</em> required no assistance + from <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ces messieurs</em>. And even if she had consented, + how to take her to Paris, and once there, how to get + the operation performed, with all the hospitals full and + all the surgeons at the Front? The old doctor shrugged + his shoulders and kept life in her as best he might.</p> + + <p>To-day, in the close room, she told a long story of + the doctor’s neglect. The medicine he gave her was + water and nothing else—water with nothing in it. + And to ask people to pay for that! She would not + pay. What would Jeanne advise?</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page217" title="217"> </a>”<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui, ma tante</em>,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui, ma tante?</em> But you are not listening to + what I say. At the least one can be polite.”</p> + + <p>“I am listening, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ma tante</em>.”</p> + + <p>“You should be grateful to those who lodge and + nourish you.”</p> + + <p>“I am grateful, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ma tante</em>,” said Jeanne patiently.</p> + + <p>Aunt Morin complained of being robbed on all + sides. The doctor, Toinette, Jeanne, the English + soldiers—the last the worst of all. Besides not paying + sufficiently for what they had, they were so wasteful + in the things they took for nothing. If they begged + for a few faggots to make a fire, they walked away + with the whole woodstack. She knew them. But + all soldiers were the same. They thought that in + time of war civilians had no rights. One of these + days she would get up and come downstairs and see + for herself the robbery that was going on.</p> + + <p>The windows were tightly sealed. The sunlight + hurting Aunt Morin’s eyes, the outside shutters were + half closed. The room felt like a stuffy, overheated, + overcrowded sepulchre. An enormous oak press, part + of her Breton dowry, took up most of the side of one + wall. This, and a great handsome chest, a couple + of tables, a stiff arm-chair, were all too big for the + moderately sized apartment. Coloured prints of sacred + subjects, tilted at violent angles, seemed eager to occupy + as much air-space as possible. And in the middle of + the floor sprawled the vast oaken bed, with its heavy + green brocade curtains falling tentwise from a great + tarnished gilt crown in the ceiling.</p> + + <p>Jeanne said nothing. What was the good? She + shifted the invalid’s hot pillow and gave her a drink + of tisane, moving about the over-furnished, airless + room in her calm and efficient way. Her face showed + <a class="pagenum" id="page218" title="218"> </a>no sign of trouble, but an iron band clamped her + forehead above her burning eyes. She could perform + her nurse’s duties, but it was beyond her power to + concentrate her mind on the sick woman’s unending + litany of grievances. Far away beyond that darkened + room, beyond that fretful voice, she saw vividly a + hot waste, hideous with holes and rusted wire and + shapes of horror; and in the middle of it lay huddled + up a little khaki-clad figure with the sun blazing fiercely + in his unblinking eyes. And his very body was + beyond the reach of man, even of the most lion-hearted.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais qu’as-tu, ma fille?</em>” asked Aunt Morin. + “You do not speak. When people are ill they need + to be amused.”</p> + + <p>“I am sorry, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ma tante</em>, but I am not feeling very + well to-day. It will pass.”</p> + + <p>“I hope so. Young people have no business not + to feel well. Otherwise what is the good of youth?”</p> + + <p>“It is true,” Jeanne assented.</p> + + <p>But what, she thought, was indeed the good of + youth, in these terrible days of war? Her own was + but a panorama of death…. And now one more + figure, this time one of youth too, had joined it.</p> + + <p>Toinette came in.</p> + + <p>“Ma’amselle Jeanne, there are two English officers + downstairs who wish to speak to you.”</p> + + <p>“What do they want?” Jeanne asked wearily.</p> + + <p>“They do not say. They just ask for Ma’amselle + Bossière.”</p> + + <p>“They never leave one in peace, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ces gens-là</em>,” + grumbled Aunt Morin. “If they want more concessions + in price, do not let them frighten you. Go + to Monsieur le Maire to have it arranged with justice. + These people would eat the skin off your back. Remember, + Jeanne.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page219" title="219"> </a>”<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bien, ma tante</em>,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>She went downstairs, conscious of gripping herself + in order to discuss with the officers whatever business + of billeting was in hand. For she had dealt with all + such matters since her arrival in Frélus. She reached + the front door and saw a dusty car with a military + chauffeur at the wheel and two officers, standing on + the pavement at the foot of the steps. One she recognized + as the commander of the company to which + her billeted men belonged. The other was a stranger, + a lieutenant, with a different badge on his cap. They + were talking and laughing together, like old friends + newly met, which by one of the myriad coincidences + of the war was really the case. On the appearance + of Jeanne they drew themselves up and saluted politely.</p> + + <p>“Mademoiselle Bossière?”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui, monsieur.</em>” Then, “Will you enter, messieurs?”</p> + + <p>They entered the vestibule where the great cask + gleamed in its polished mahogany and brass. She + bade them be seated.</p> + + <p>“Mademoiselle, Captain Willoughby tells me that + you had billeted here last week a soldier by the name + of Trevor,” said the stranger, in excellent French, + taking out notebook and pencil.</p> + + <p>Jeanne’s lips grew white. She had not suspected + their errand.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui, monsieur.</em>”</p> + + <p>“Did you have much talk with him?”</p> + + <p>“Much, monsieur.”</p> + + <p>“Pardon my indiscretion, mademoiselle—it is + military service, and I am an Intelligence officer—but + did you tell him about your private affairs?”</p> + + <p>“Very intimately,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>The Intelligence officer made a note or two and + <a class="pagenum" id="page220" title="220"> </a>smiled pleasantly—but Jeanne could have struck him + for daring to smile. “You had every reason for + thinking him a man of honour?”</p> + + <p>“What’s the good of asking her that, Smithers?” + Captain Willoughby interrupted in English. + “Haven’t I given you my word? The man’s a + mysterious little devil, but any fool can see that he’s + a gentleman.”</p> + + <p>“What do you say?” Jeanne asked tensely.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je parle français très peu</em>,” replied Captain + Willoughby with an air of regret.</p> + + <p>Smithers explained. “Monsieur le Capitaine says + that he guarantees the honesty of the soldier, Trevor.”</p> + + <p>Jeanne flashed, rigid. “Who could doubt it, + monsieur? He was a gentleman, a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fils de famille</em>, + of the English aristocracy.”</p> + + <p>“Excuse me for a moment,” said Smithers.</p> + + <p>He went out. Jeanne, uncomprehending, sat silent. + Captain Willoughby, cursing an idiot education, composed + in his head a polite French sentence concerning + the weather, but before he had finished Smithers + reappeared with a strange twisted packet in his hand. + He held it out to Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“Mademoiselle, do you recognize this?”</p> + + <p>She looked at it dully for a moment; then suddenly + sprang to her feet and clenched her hands and stared + open-mouthed. She nodded. She could not speak. + Her brain swam. They had come to her about + Doggie, who was dead, and they showed her Père + Grigou’s packet. What was the connection between + the two?</p> + + <p>Willoughby rose impulsively. “For God’s sake, + Smithers, let her down easy. She’ll be fainting all + over the place in a minute.”</p> + + <p>“If this is your property, mademoiselle,” said + <a class="pagenum" id="page221" title="221"> </a>Smithers, laying the packet on the chenille-covered + table, “you have to thank your friend Trevor for + restoring it to you.”</p> + + <p>She put up both hands to her reeling head.</p> + + <p>“But he is dead, monsieur!”</p> + + <p>“Not a bit of it. He’s just as much alive as you + or I.”</p> + + <p>Jeanne swayed, tried to laugh, threw herself half + on a chair, half over the great cask, and broke down + in a passion of tears.</p> + + <p>The two men looked at each other uncomfortably.</p> + + <p>“For exquisite tact,” said Willoughby, “commend + me to an Intelligence officer.”</p> + + <p>“But how the deuce was I to know?” Smithers + muttered with an injured air. “My instructions were + to find out the truth of a cock-and-bull story—for + that’s what it seemed to come to. And a girl in + billets—well—how was I to know what she was + like?”</p> + + <p>“Anyhow, here we’ve got hysterics,” said Willoughby.</p> + + <p>“But who told her the fellow was dead?”</p> + + <p>“Why, his pals. I thought so myself. When a + man’s missing where’s one to suppose him to be—having + supper at the Savoy?”</p> + + <p>“Well, I give women up,” said Smithers. “I + thought she’d be glad.”</p> + + <p>“I believe you’re a married man?”</p> + + <p>“Yes, of course.”</p> + + <p>“Well, I ain’t,” said Willoughby, and in a couple + of strides he stood close to Jeanne. He laid a gentle + hand on her heaving shoulders.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pas tué! Soolmong blessé</em>,” he shouted.</p> + + <p>She sprang, as it were, to attention, like a frightened + recruit.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page222" title="222"> </a>“He is wounded?”</p> + + <p>“Not very seriously, mademoiselle.” Smithers, + casting an indignant glance at his superior officer’s + complacent smile, reassumed mastery of the situation. + “A Boche sniper got him in the leg. It will put + him out of service for a month or two. But there + is no danger.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Grâce à Dieu!</em>” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>She leaned for a while against the cask, her hands + behind her, looking away from the two men. And + the two young men stood, somewhat embarrassed, + looking away from her and from each other. At last + she said, with an obvious striving for the even note + in her voice:</p> + + <p>“I ask your pardon, messieurs, but sometimes sudden + happiness is more overwhelming than misfortune. I + am now quite at your service.”</p> + + <p>“My God! she’s a wonder,” murmured Willoughby, + who was fair, unmarried, and impressionable. + “Go on with your dirty work.”</p> + + <p>Smithers, conscious of linguistic superiority—in civil + life he had been concerned with the wine trade in + Bordeaux—proceeded to carry out his instructions. + He turned over a leaf in his notebook and poised a + ready pencil.</p> + + <p>“I must ask you, mademoiselle, some formal + questions.”</p> + + <p>“Perfectly, monsieur,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“Where was this packet when last you saw it?”</p> + + <p>She made her statement, calmly.</p> + + <p>“Can you tell me its contents?”</p> + + <p>“Not all, monsieur. I, as a young girl, was not + in the full confidence of my parents. But I remember + my uncle saying there were about twenty thousand + francs in notes, some gold—I know not how much—some + <a class="pagenum" id="page223" title="223"> </a>jewellery of my mother’s—oh, a big handful!—rings—one + a hoop of emeralds and diamonds—a + brooch with a black pearl belonging to my great-grandmother——”</p> + + <p>“It is enough, mademoiselle,” said Smithers, jotting + down notes. “Anything else besides money and + jewellery?”</p> + + <p>“There were papers of my father, share certificates, + bonds—<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">que sais-je, moi</em>?”</p> + + <p>Smithers opened the packet, which had already + been examined.</p> + + <p>“You’re a witness, sir, to the identification of the + property.”</p> + + <p>“No,” said Willoughby, “I’m just a baby captain + of infantry, and wonder why the brainy Intelligence + department doesn’t hand the girl her belongings and + decently clear out.”</p> + + <p>“I’ve got to make my report, sir,” said Smithers + stiffly.</p> + + <p>So the schedule was produced and the notes were + solemnly counted, twenty-one thousand five hundred + francs, and the gold four hundred francs, and the + jewels were identified, and the bonds, of which Jeanne + knew nothing, were checked by a list in her father’s + handwriting, and Jeanne signed a paper with Smithers’s + fountain-pen, and Willoughby witnessed her signature, + and thus she entered into possession of her heritage.</p> + + <p>The officers were about to depart, but Jeanne + detained them.</p> + + <p>“Messieurs, you must pardon me, but I am quite + bewildered. As far as I can understand, Monsieur + Trevor rescued the packet from the well at my uncle’s + farm of La Folette, and got wounded in doing so.”</p> + + <p>“That is quite so,” said Smithers.</p> + + <p>“But, monsieur, they tell me he was with a party in + <a class="pagenum" id="page224" title="224"> </a>front of his trench mending wire. How did he reach + the well of La Folette? I don’t comprehend at all.”</p> + + <p>Smithers turned to Willoughby.</p> + + <p>“Yes. How the dickens did he know the exact + spot to go for?”</p> + + <p>“We had taken over a new sector, and I was + getting the topography right with a map. Trevor + was near by doing nothing, and as he’s a man of + education, I asked him to help me. There was the + site of the farm marked by name, and the ruined + well away over to the left in No Man’s Land. I + remember the beggar calling out ‘La Folette!’ in a + startled voice, and when I asked him what was the + matter, he said ‘Nothing, sir!’”</p> + + <p>Smithers translated, and continued: “You see, + mademoiselle, this is what happened, as far as I am + concerned. I belong to the Lancashire Fusiliers. + Our battalion is in the trenches farther up the line + than our friends. Well, just before dawn yesterday + morning a man rolled over the parapet into our trench, + and promptly fainted. He had been wounded in the + leg, and was half dead from loss of blood. Under + his tunic was this package. We identified him and + his regiment, and fixed him up and took him to the + dressing-station. But things looked very suspicious. + Here was a man who didn’t belong to us with a little + fortune in loot on his person. As soon as he was fit + to be interrogated, the C.O. took him in hand. He + told the C.O. about you and your story. He regarded + the nearness of the well as something to do with + Destiny, and resolved to get you back your property—if + it was still there. The opportunity occurred + when the wiring party was alarmed. He crept out + to the ruins by the well, fished out the packet, and a + sniper got him. He managed to get back to our + <a class="pagenum" id="page225" title="225"> </a>lines, having lost his way a bit, and tumbled into our + trench.”</p> + + <p>“But he was in danger of death all the time,” + said Jeanne, losing the steadiness of her voice.</p> + + <p>“He was. Every second. It was one of the most + dare-devil, scatter-brained things I’ve ever heard of. + And I’ve heard of many, mademoiselle. The only + pity is that instead of being rewarded, he will be + punished.”</p> + + <p>“Punished?” cried Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“Not very severely,” laughed Smithers. “Captain + Willoughby will see to that. But reflect, mademoiselle. + His military duty was to remain with his + comrades, not to go and risk his life to get your property. + Anyhow, it is clear that he was not out for loot…. + Of course, they sent me here as Intelligence officer, + to get corroboration of his story.” He paused for a + moment. Then he added: “Mademoiselle, I must + congratulate you on the restoration of your fortune + and the possession of a very brave friend.”</p> + + <p>For the first time the red spots burned on Jeanne’s + pale face.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je vous remercie infiniment, monsieur.</em>”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il sera</em> all right,” said Willoughby.</p> + + <p>The officers saluted and went their ways. Jeanne + took up her packet and mounted to her little room + in a dream. Then she sat down on her bed, the + unopened packet by her side, and strove to realize it + all. But the only articulate thought came to her in + the words which she repeated over and over again:</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il a fait cela pour moi! Il a fait cela pour moi!</em>”</p> + + <p>He had done that for her. It was incredible, + fantastic, thrillingly true, like the fairy-tales of her + childhood. The little sensitive English soldier, whom + his comrades protected, whom she herself in a feminine + <a class="pagenum" id="page226" title="226"> </a>way longed to protect, had done this for her. In a + shy, almost reverent way, she opened out the waterproof + covering, as though to reassure herself of the + reality of things. For the first time since she left + Cambrai a smile came into her eyes, together with + grateful tears.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il a fait cela pour moi! Il a fait cela pour moi!</em>”</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">A while later she relieved Toinette’s guard in the + sick-room.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Eh bien?</em> And the two officers?” queried Aunt + Morin, after Toinette had gone. “They have stayed + a long time. What did they want?”</p> + + <p>Jeanne was young. She had eaten the bread of + dependence, which Aunt Morin, by reason of racial + instinct and the stress of sorrow and infirmity, had + contrived to render very bitter. She could not repress + an exultant note in her voice. Doggie, too, accounted + for something; for much.</p> + + <p>“They came to bring good news, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ma tante</em>. The + English have found all the money and the jewels and + the share certificates that Père Grigou hid in the + well of La Folette.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon Dieu!</em> It is true?”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui, ma tante.</em>”</p> + + <p>“And they have restored them to you?”</p> + + <p>“Yes.”</p> + + <p>“It is extraordinary. It is truly extraordinary. + At last these English seem to be good for something. + And they found that and gave it to you without + taking anything?”</p> + + <p>“Without taking anything,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>Aunt Morin reflected for a few moments, then + she stretched out a thin hand.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ma petite Jeanne chérie</em>, you are rich now.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page227" title="227"> </a>“I don’t know exactly,” replied Jeanne, with a + mingling of truth and caution. “I have enough for + the present.”</p> + + <p>“How did it all happen?”</p> + + <p>“It was part of a military operation,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>Perhaps later she might tell Aunt Morin about + Doggie. But now the thing was too sacred. Aunt + Morin would question, question maddeningly, until + the rainbow of her fairy-tale was unwoven. The + salient fact of the recovery of her fortune should be + enough for Aunt Morin. It was. The old woman + of the pain-pinched features looked at her wistfully + from sunken grey eyes.</p> + + <p>“And now that you are rich, my little Jeanne, + you will not leave your poor old aunt, who loves you + so much, to die alone?”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ah, mais non! mais non! mais non!</em>” cried + Jeanne indignantly. “What do you think I am made + of?”</p> + + <p>“Ah!” breathed Aunt Morin, comforted.</p> + + <p>“Also,” said Jeanne, in the matter-of-fact French + way, “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Si tu veux</em>, I will henceforward pay for my + lodging and nourishment.”</p> + + <p>“You are very good, my little Jeanne,” said Aunt + Morin. “That will be a great help, for, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">vois-tu</em>, + we are very poor.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui, ma tante.</em> It is the war.”</p> + + <p>“Ah, the war, the war; this awful war! One + has nothing left.”</p> + + <p>Jeanne smiled. Aunt Morin had a very comfortably + invested fortune left, for the late Monsieur Morin, + corn, hay and seed merchant, had been a very astute + person. It would make little difference to the comfort + of Aunt Morin, or to the prospects of Cousin Gaspard + in Madagascar, whether the present business of Veuve + <a class="pagenum" id="page228" title="228"> </a>Morin et Fils went on or not. Of this Aunt Morin, + in lighter moods, had boasted many times.</p> + + <p>“Every one must do what they can,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“Perfectly,” said Aunt Morin. “You are a young + girl who well understands things. And now—it is + not good for young people to stay in a sick-room—one + needs the fresh air. <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Va te distraire, ma petite.</em> + I am quite comfortable.”</p> + + <p>So Jeanne went out to distract a self already distraught + with great wonder, great pride and great fear.</p> + + <p>He had done that for her. The wonder of it + bewildered her, the pride of it thrilled her. But he + was wounded. Fear smothered her joy. They had + said there was no danger. But soldiers always made + light of wounds. It was their way in this horrible + war, in the intimate midst of which she had her being. + If a man was not dead, he was alive, and thereby + accounted lucky. In their gay optimism they had + given him a month or two of absence from the regiment. + But even in a month or two—where would + the regiment be? Far, far away from Frélus. + Would she ever see Doggie again?</p> + + <p>To distract herself she went down the village street, + bareheaded, and up the lane that led to the little + church. The church was empty, cool, and smelt of + the hill-side. Before the tinsel-crowned, mild-faced + image of the Virgin were spread the poor votive + offerings of the village. And Jeanne sank on her + knees, and bowed her head, and, without special + prayer or formula of devotion, gave herself into the + hands of the Mother of Sorrows.</p> + + <p>She walked back comforted, vaguely conscious of + a strengthening of soul. In the vast cataclysm of + things her own hopes and fears and destiny mattered + very little. If she never saw Doggie again, if Doggie + <a class="pagenum" id="page229" title="229"> </a>recovered and returned to the war and was killed, + her own grief mattered very little. She was but a + stray straw, and mattered very little. But what + mattered infinitely, what shone with an immortal + flame, though it were never so tiny, was the Wonderful + Spiritual Something that had guided Doggie through + the jaws of death.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">That evening she had a long talk in the kitchen + with Phineas. The news of Doggie’s safety had + been given out by Willoughby, without any details. + Mo Shendish had leaped about her like a fox-terrier, + and she had laughed, with difficulty restraining her + tears. But to Phineas alone she told her whole story. + He listened in bewilderment. And the greater the + bewilderment, the worse his crude translations of English + into French. She wound up a long, eager speech + by saying:</p> + + <p>“He has done this for me. Why?”</p> + + <p>“Love,” replied Phineas bluntly.</p> + + <p>“It is more than love,” said Jeanne, thinking of + the Wonderful Spiritual Something.</p> + + <p>“If you could understand English,” said Phineas, + “I would enter into the metaphysics of the subject + with pleasure, but in French it is beyond me.”</p> + + <p>Jeanne smiled, and turned to the matter-of-fact.</p> + + <p>“He will go to England now that he is wounded?”</p> + + <p>“He’s on the way now,” said Phineas.</p> + + <p>“Has he many friends there? I ask, because he + talks so little of himself. He is so modest.”</p> + + <p>“Oh, many friends. You see, mademoiselle,” said + Phineas, with a view to setting her mind at rest, + “Doggie’s an important person in his part of the + country. He was brought up in luxury. I know, + because I lived with him as his tutor for seven years. + <a class="pagenum" id="page230" title="230"> </a>His father and mother are dead, and he could go on + living in luxury now, if he liked.”</p> + + <p>“He is then, rich—Doggie?”</p> + + <p>“He has a fine house of his own in the country, + with many servants and automobiles, and—wait”—he + made a swift arithmetical calculation—“and an + income of eighty thousand francs a year.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Comment?</em>” cried Jeanne sharply, with a little + frown.</p> + + <p>Phineas McPhail was enjoying himself, basking in + the sunshine of Doggie’s wealth. Also, when conversation + in French resolved itself into the statement of + simple facts, he could get along famously. So the + temptation of the glib phrase outran his discretion.</p> + + <p>“Doggie has a fortune of about two million francs.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il doit faire un beau mariage</em>,” said Jeanne, with + stony calm.</p> + + <p>Phineas suddenly became aware of pitfalls and + summoned his craft and astuteness and knowledge + of affairs. He smiled, as he thought, encouragingly.</p> + + <p>“The only fine marriage is with the person one + loves.”</p> + + <p>“Not always, monsieur,” said Jeanne, who had + watched the gathering of the sagacities with her deep + eyes. “In any case”—she rose and held out her hand—“our + friend will be well looked after in England.”</p> + + <p>“Like a prince,” said Phineas.</p> + + <p>He strode away greatly pleased with himself, and + went and found Mo Shendish.</p> + + <p>“Man,” said he, “have you ever reflected that the + dispensing of happiness is the cheapest form of human + diversion?”</p> + + <p>“What’ve you been doin’ now?” asked Mo.</p> + + <p>“I’ve just left a lassie tottering over with blissful + dreams.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page231" title="231"> </a>“Gorblime!” said Mo, “and to think that if I + could sling the lingo, I might’ve done the same!”</p> + + <p>But Phineas had knocked all the dreams out of + Jeanne. The British happy-go-lucky ways of marriage + are not those of the French <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bourgeoisie</em>, and Jeanne + had no notion of British happy-go-lucky ways. + Phineas had knocked the dream out of Jeanne by + kicking Doggie out of her sphere. And there was + a girl in England in Doggie’s sphere whom he was + to marry. She knew it. A man does not gather + his sagacities in order to answer crookedly a direct + challenge, unless there is some necessity.</p> + + <p>Well. She would never see Doggie again. He + would pass out of her life. His destiny called him, if + he survived the slaughter of the war, to the shadowy + girl in England. Yet he had done <em>that</em> for her. + For no other woman could he ever in this life do + <em>that</em> again. It was past love. Her brain boggled + at an elusive spiritual idea. She was very young, + flung cleanly trained from the convent into the war’s + terrific tragedy, wherein maiden romantic fancies + were scorched in the tender bud. Only her honest + traditions of marriage remained. Of love she knew + nothing. She leaped beyond it, seeking, seeking. + She would never see him again. There she met the + Absolute. But he had done <em>that</em> for her—that which, + she knew not why, but she knew—he would do for + no other woman. The Splendour of it would be her + everlasting possession.</p> + + <p>She undressed that night, proud, dry-eyed, heroical, + and went to bed, and listened to the rhythmic tramp + of the sentry across the gateway below her window, + and suddenly a lump rose in her throat and she fell + to crying miserably.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XVII"><a class="pagenum" id="page232" title="232"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XVII</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">“How</span> are you feeling, Trevor?”</p> + + <p>“Nicely, thank you, Sister.”</p> + + <p>“Glad to be in Blighty again?”</p> + + <p>Doggie smiled.</p> + + <p>“Good old Blighty!”</p> + + <p>“Leg hurting you?”</p> + + <p>“A bit, Sister,” he replied with a little grimace.</p> + + <p>“It’s bound to be stiff after the long journey, but + we’ll soon fix it up for you.”</p> + + <p>“I’m sure you will,” he said politely.</p> + + <p>The nurse moved on. Doggie drew the cool clean + sheet around his shoulders and gave himself up to + the luxury of bed—real bed. The morning sunlight + poured through the open windows, attended by a + delicious odour which after a while he recognized as + the scent of the sea. Where he was he had no notion. + He had absorbed so much of Tommy’s philosophy + as not to care. He had arrived with a convoy the + night before, after much travel in ambulances by land + and sea. If he had been a walking case, he might + have taken more interest in things; but the sniper’s + bullet in his thigh had touched the bone, and in spite + of being carried most tenderly about like a baby, he + had suffered great pain and longed for nothing and + thought of nothing but a permanent resting-place. + Now, apparently, he had found one, and looking about + him he felt peculiarly content. He seemed to have + seen no cleaner, whiter, brighter place in the world + <a class="pagenum" id="page233" title="233"> </a>than this airy ward, swept by the sea-breeze. He + counted seven beds besides his own. On a table + running down the ward stood a vase of sweet-peas + and a bowl of roses. He thought there was never + in the world so clean and cool a figure as the grey-clad + nurse in her spotless white apron, cuffs and cap.</p> + + <p>When she passed near him again, he summoned + her. She came to his bedside.</p> + + <p>“What do you call this particular region of fairyland?”</p> + + <p>She stared at him for a moment, adjusting things + in her mind; for his name and style were 35792 + Private Trevor, J. M., but his voice and phrase were + those of her own social class. Then she smiled, and + told him. The corner of fairyland was a private + auxiliary hospital in a Lancashire seaside town.</p> + + <p>“Lancashire,” said Doggie, knitting his brow in a + puzzled way, “but why have they sent me to Lancashire? + I belong to a West Country regiment, and + all my friends are in the South.”</p> + + <p>“What’s he grousing about, Sister?” suddenly asked + the occupant of the next bed. “He’s the sort of + chap that doesn’t know when he’s in luck and when + he isn’t. I’m in the Duke of Cornwall’s Light + Infantry, I am, and when I was hit before, they sent + me to a military hospital in Inverness. That’d teach + you, my lad. This for me every time. You ought + to have something to grouse at.”</p> + + <p>“I’m not grousing, you idiot!” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“’Ere—who’s he calling an idjit?” cried the Duke + of Cornwall’s Light Infantryman, raising himself on + his elbow.</p> + + <p>The nurse intervened; explained that no one + could be said to grumble at a hospital when he called + it fairyland. Trevor’s question was that of one in + <a class="pagenum" id="page234" title="234"> </a>search of information. He did not realize that in + assigning men to the various hospitals in the United + Kingdom, the authorities could not possibly take into + account an individual man’s local association.</p> + + <p>“Oh well, if it’s only his blooming ignorance——”</p> + + <p>“That’s just it, mate,” smiled Doggie, “my + blooming ignorance.”</p> + + <p>“That’s all right,” said the nurse. “Now you’re + friends.”</p> + + <p>“He had no right to call me an idjit,” said the + Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantryman. He was an + aggressive, red-visaged man with bristly black hair + and stubbly black moustache.</p> + + <p>“If you’ll agree that he wasn’t grousing, Penworthy, + I’m sure Trevor will apologize for calling + you an idiot.”</p> + + <p>And into the nurse’s eyes crept the queer smile of + the woman learned in the ways of children.</p> + + <p>“Didn’t I say he wasn’t grousing? It was only + his ignorance?”</p> + + <p>Doggie responded. “I meant no offence, mate, + in what I said.”</p> + + <p>The other growled an acceptance, whereupon the + nurse smiled an ironic benediction and moved away.</p> + + <p>“Where did you get it?” asked Penworthy.</p> + + <p>Doggie gave the information and, in his turn, made + the polite counter-inquiry.</p> + + <p>Penworthy’s bit of shrapnel, which had broken a + rib or two, had been acquired just north of Albert. + When he left, he said, we were putting it over in + great quantities.</p> + + <p>“That’s where the great push is going to be in a + few days.”</p> + + <p>“Aren’t you sorry you’re out of it?”</p> + + <p>“Me?” The Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantryman + <a class="pagenum" id="page235" title="235"> </a>shook his head. “I take things as I finds + ’em, and I finds this quite good enough.”</p> + + <p>So they chatted and, in the soldier’s way, became + friends. Later, the surgeon arrived and probed + Doggie’s wound and hurt him exquisitely, so that the + perspiration stood out on his forehead, and his jaws + ached afterwards from his clenching of them. While + his leg was being dressed he reflected that, a couple + of years ago, if anyone had inflicted a twentieth part + of such torture on him he would have yelled the house + down. He remembered, with an inward grin, the + anguished precautions on which he had insisted whenever + he sat down in the chair of his expensive London + dentist.</p> + + <p>“It must have hurt like fun,” said the nurse, busily + engaged with the gauze dressing.</p> + + <p>“It’s all in the day’s work,” replied Doggie.</p> + + <p>The nurse pinned the bandage and settled him + comfortably in bed.</p> + + <p>“No one will worry you till dinner-time. You’d + better try to have a sleep.”</p> + + <p>So Doggie nodded and smiled and curled up as + best he could and slept the heavy sleep of the tired + young animal. It was only when he awoke, physically + rested and comparatively free from pain, that his + mind, hitherto confused, began to work clearly, to + straighten out the three days’ tangle. Yes, just three + days. A fact almost impossible to realize. Till now + it had seemed an eternity.</p> + + <p>He lay with his arms crossed under his head and + stared at the blue sky—a soft, comforting English + sky. The ward was silent. Only two beds were + occupied, one by a man asleep, the other by a man + reading a novel. His other room-mates, including + his neighbour Penworthy, were so far convalescent + <a class="pagenum" id="page236" title="236"> </a>as to be up and away, presumably by the life-giving + sea, whose rhythmic murmur he could hear. For + the first time since he awoke to find himself bandaged + up in a strange dug-out, and surrounded by strange + faces, did the chaos of his ideas resolve itself into + anything like definite memories. Yet many of them + were still vague.</p> + + <p>He had been out there, with the wiring party, in + the dark. He had been glad, he remembered, to + escape from the prison of the trench into the open + air. He was having some difficulty with a recalcitrant + bit of wire that refused to come straight and jabbed + him diabolically in unexpected places, when a shot + rang out and German flares went up and everybody + lay flat on the ground, while bullets spat about them. + As he lay on his stomach, a flare lit up the ruined + well of the farm of La Folette. And the well and + his nose and his heels were in a bee-line. The + realization of the fact was the inception of a fascinating + idea. He remembered that quite clearly. Of course + his discovery, two days before, of the spot where + Jeanne’s fortune lay hidden, when Captain Willoughby, + with map and periscope, had called him into consultation, + had set his heart beating and his imagination + working. But not till that moment of stark opportunity + had he dreamed of the mad adventure which + he undertook. There in front of him, at the very + farthest three hundred yards away, in bee-line with + nose and heels—that was the peculiar and particular + arresting fact—lay Jeanne’s fortune. In thinking of + it he lost count of shots and star-shells, and heard no + orders and saw no dim forms creeping back to the + safety of the trench. And then all was darkness and + silence.</p> + + <p>Doggie lay on his back and stared at the English + <a class="pagenum" id="page237" title="237"> </a>sky and wondered how he did it. His attitude was + that of a man who cannot reconcile his sober self + with the idiot hero of a drunken freak. And yet, at + the time, the journey to the ruined well seemed the + simplest thing in the world. The thought of Jeanne’s + delight shone uppermost in his mind…. Oh! he + was forgetting the star, which hung low beneath a + canopy of cloud, the extreme point of the famous + feet, nose and well bee-line. He made for it, now + and then walking low, now and then crawling. He + did not mind his clothes and hands being torn by the + unseen refuse of No Man’s Land. His chief sensation + was one of utter loneliness, mingled with exultance + at freedom. He did not remember feeling afraid: + which was odd, because when the star-shells had gone + up and the German trenches had opened fire on the + wiring party, his blood had turned to water and his + heart had sunk into his boots and he had been deucedly + frightened.</p> + + <p>Heaven must have guided him straight to the well. + He had known all along that he merely would have + to stick his hand down to find the rope … and he + felt no surprise when the rope actually came in contact + with his groping fingers; no surprise when he + pulled and pulled and fished up the packet. It had + all been preordained. That was the funny part of + the business which Doggie now could not understand. + But he remembered that when he had buttoned his + tunic over the precious packet, he had been possessed + of an insane desire to sing and dance. He repressed + his desire to sing, but he leaped about and started to + run. Then the star in which he trusted must have + betrayed him. It must have shed upon him a ray + just strong enough to make him a visible object; + for, suddenly, <em>ping!</em> something hit him violently on + <a class="pagenum" id="page238" title="238"> </a>the leg and bowled him over like a rabbit into a providential + shell-hole. And there he lay quaking for a + long time, while the lunacy of his adventure coarsely + and unsentimentally revealed itself.</p> + + <p>As to the rest, he was in a state of befogged memory. + Only one incident in that endless, cruel crawl home + remained as a landmark in his mind. He had paused + to take breath, almost ready to give up the impossible + flight—it seemed as though he were dragging behind + him a ton of red-hot iron—when he became conscious + of a stench violent in his nostrils. He put out a + hand. It encountered a horrible, once human face, + and his fingers touched a round recognizable cap. + Horror drove him away from the dead German and + inspired him with the strength of despair…. Then + all was fog and dark again until he recovered consciousness + in the strange dug-out.</p> + + <p>There the doctor had said to him: “You must + have a cast-iron constitution, my lad.”</p> + + <p>The memory caused a flicker round his lips. It + wasn’t everybody who could crawl on his belly for + nearly a quarter of a mile with a bullet through his + leg, and come up smiling at the end of it. A cast-iron + constitution! If he had only known it fifteen, even + ten years ago, what a different life he might have led. + The great disgrace would never have come upon him.</p> + + <p>And Jeanne? What of Jeanne? After he had + told his story, they had given him to understand that + an officer would be sent to Frélus to corroborate it, + and, if he found it true, that Jeanne would enter + into possession of her packet. And that was all he + knew, for they had bundled him out of the front + trenches as quickly as possible; and once out he had + become a case, a stretcher case, and although he had + been treated, as a case, with almost superhuman tenderness, + <a class="pagenum" id="page239" title="239"> </a>not a soul regarded him as a human being with + a personality or a history—not even with a military + history. And this same military history had vaguely + worried him all the time, and now that he could + think clearly, worried him with a very definite worry. + In leaving his firing-party he had been guilty of a + crime. Every misdemeanour in the Army is termed + a crime—from murder to appearing buttonless on + parade. Was it desertion? If so, he might be shot. + He had not thought of that when he started on his quest. + It had seemed so simple to account for half an hour’s + absence by saying that he had lost his way in the dark. + But now, that plausible excuse was invalid….</p> + + <p>Doggie thought terribly hard that quiet, sea-scented + morning. After all, it did not very much matter + what they did to him. Sticking him up against a + wall and shooting him was a remote possibility; he + was in the British and not the German Army. Field + punishments of unpleasant kinds were only inflicted + on people convicted of unpleasant delinquencies. If + he were a sergeant or a corporal, he doubtless would + be broken. But such is the fortunate position of a + private, that he cannot be degraded to an inferior + rank. At the worst they might give him cells when + he recovered. Well, he could stick it. It didn’t + matter. What really mattered was Jeanne. Was + she in undisputed possession of her packet? When + it was a question of practical warfare, Doggie had + blind faith in his officers—a faith perhaps even more + childlike than that of his fellow-privates, for officers + were the men who had come through the ordeal in + which he had so lamentably failed; but when it + came to administrative affairs, he was more critical. + He had suffered during his military career from more + than one subaltern on whose arid consciousness the + <a class="pagenum" id="page240" title="240"> </a>brain-wave never beat. He had never met even a + field officer before whom, in the realm of intellect, + he had stood in awe. If any one of those dimly + envisaged and still more dimly remembered officers + of the Lancashire Fusiliers had ordered him to stand + on his head on top of the parapet, he would have + obeyed in cheerful confidence; but he was not at + all certain that, in the effort to deliver the packet to + Jeanne, they would not make an unholy mess of + things. He saw stacks of dirty yellowish bits of + paper, with A.F. No. something or the other, floating + between Frélus and the Lancashire Battalion H.Q. + and the Brigade H.Q. and the Divisional H.Q., and + so on through the majesty of G.H.Q. to the awful + War Office itself. In pessimistic mood he thought + that if Jeanne recovered her property within a year, + she would be lucky.</p> + + <p>What a wonderful creature was Jeanne! He shut + his eyes to the blue sky and pictured her as she stood in + the light, on the ragged escarpment, with her garments + beaten by wind and rain. And he remembered the + weary thud, thud of railway and steamer, which had + resolved itself, like the rhythmic tramp of feet that + night, into the ceaseless refrain: “Jeanne! Jeanne!”</p> + + <p>He opened his eyes again and frowned at the blue + English sky. It had no business to proclaim simple + serenity when his mind was in such a state of complex + tangle. It was all very well to think of Jeanne—Jeanne, + whom it was unlikely that Fate would ever + allow him to see again, even supposing the war ended + during his lifetime; but there was Peggy—Peggy, his + future wife, who had stuck to him loyally through good + and evil repute. Yes, there was Peggy—not the + faintest shadow of doubt about it. Doggie kept on + frowning at the blue sky. Blighty was a very desirable + <a class="pagenum" id="page241" title="241"> </a>country, but in it you were compelled to think. And + enforced thought was an infernal nuisance. The + beastly trenches had their good points after all. There + you were not called upon to think of anything; the + less you thought, the better for your job; you just + ate your bully-beef and drank your tea and cursed + whizz-bangs and killed a rat or two, and thanked + God you were alive.</p> + + <p>Now that he came to look at it in proper perspective, + it wasn’t at all a bad life. When had he been worried + to death, as he was now? And there were his friends: + the humorous, genial, deboshed, yet ever-kindly + Phineas; dear old Mo Shendish, whose material feet + were hankering after the vulgar pavement of Mare + Street, Hackney, but whose spiritual tread rang on + golden floors dimly imagined by the Seer of Patmos; + Barrett, the D. C. M., the miniature Hercules, who, + according to legend, though, modestly, he would never + own to it, seized two Boches by the neck and knocked + their heads together till they died, and who, musically + inclined, would sit at his, Doggie’s, feet while he played + on his penny whistle all the sentimental tunes he had + ever heard of; Sergeant Ballinghall, a tower of a + man, a champion amateur heavy-weight boxer, with + a voice compared with which a megaphone sounded + like a maiden’s prayer, and a Bardolphian nose and + an eagle eye and the heart of a broody hen, who had + not only given him boxing lessons, but had pulled + him through difficult places innumerable … and + scores of others. He wondered what they were doing. + He also was foolish enough to wonder whether they + missed him, forgetting for the moment that if a regiment + took seriously to missing their comrades sent + to Kingdom Come or Blighty, they would be more + like weeping willows than destroyers of Huns.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page242" title="242"> </a>All the same, he knew that he would always live + in the hearts of two or three of them, and the knowledge + brought him considerable comfort. It was + strange to realize how the tentacles of his being + stretched out gropingly towards these (from the old + Durdlebury point of view) impossible friends. They + had grafted themselves on to his life. Or was that + a correct way of putting it? Had they not, rather, + all grafted themselves on to a common stock of life, + so that the one common sap ran through all their + veins?</p> + + <p>It took him a long time to get this idea formulated, + fixed and accepted. But Doggie was not one to + boggle at the truth, as he saw it. And this was the + truth. He, James Marmaduke Trevor of Denby + Hall, was a Tommy of the Tommies. He had lived + the Tommy life intensely. He was living it now. + And the extraordinary part of it was that he didn’t + want to be anything else but a Tommy. From the + social or gregarious point of view his life for the past + year had been one of unclouded happiness. The + realization of it, now that he was clearly sizing up + the ramshackle thing which he called his existence, + hit him like the butt-end of a rifle. Hardship, cold, + hunger, fatigue, stench, rats, the dread of inefficiency—all + these had been factors of misery which he could + never eliminate from his soldier’s equation; but such + free, joyous, intimate companionship with real human + beings he had never enjoyed since he was born. He + longed to be back among them, doing the same old + weary, dreary, things, eating the same old Robinson + Crusoe kind of food, crouching with them in the same + old beastly hole in the ground, while the Boche let + loose hell on the trench. Mo Shendish’s grin and + his “’Ere, get in aht of the rain,” and his grip on his + <a class="pagenum" id="page243" title="243"> </a>shoulder, dragging him a few inches farther into + shelter, were a spiritual compensation transcending + physical discomfitures and perils.</p> + + <p>“It’s all dam funny,” he said half aloud.</p> + + <p>But this was England, and although he was hedged + about, protected and restricted by War Office Regulation + Red Tape twisted round to the strength of steel + cables, yet he was in command of telegraphs, of telephones, + and, in a secondary degree, of the railway + system of the United Kingdom.</p> + + <p>He found himself deprecating the compulsory facilities + of communication in the civilized world. The + Deanery must be informed of his home-coming.</p> + + <p>As soon as he could secure the services of a nurse + he wrote out three telegrams: one addressed “Conover, + The Deanery, Durdlebury”; one to Peddle + at Denby Hall, and one to Jeanne. The one to + Jeanne was the longest, and was “Reply paid.”</p> + + <p>“This is going to cost a small fortune, young man,” + said the nurse.</p> + + <p>Doggie smiled as he drew out a £1 treasury note + from his soldier’s pocket-book, the pathetic object + containing a form of Will on the right-hand flap and + on the left the directions for the making of the Will, + concluding with the world-famous typical signature + of Thomas Atkins.</p> + + <p>“It’s a bust, Sister,” said he. “I’ve been saving + up for it for months.”</p> + + <p>Then, duty accomplished, he reconciled himself + to the corner of fairyland in which he had awoke + that morning. Things must take their course, and + while they were taking it, why worry? So long as + they didn’t commit the outrage of giving him bully-beef + for dinner, the present coolness and comfort + sufficed for his happiness.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XVIII"><a class="pagenum" id="page244" title="244"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> replies to the telegrams were satisfactory. + Peggy, adjuring him to write a full account + of himself, announced her intention of coming up to + see him as soon as he could guarantee his fitness to + receive visitors. Jeanne wired: “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Paquet reçu. Mille + remerciements.</em>” The news cheered him exceedingly. + It was worth a hole in the leg. Henceforward Jeanne + would be independent of Aunt Morin, of whose + generous affection, in spite of Jeanne’s loyal reticence, + he had formed but a poor opinion. Now the old + lady could die whenever she liked, and so much the + better for Jeanne. Jeanne would then be freed from + the unhealthy sick-room, from dreary little Frélus, + and from enforced consorting with the riff-raff (namely, + all other regiments except his own) of the British + Army. Even as it was, he did not enjoy thinking + of her as hail-fellow-well-met with his own fellow-privates—perhaps + with the exception of Phineas and + Mo, who were in a different position, having been + formally admitted into a peculiar intimacy. Of course, + if Doggie had possessed a more analytical mind, he + would have been greatly surprised to discover that + these feelings arose from a healthy, barbaric sense of + ownership of Jeanne; that Mo and Phineas were + in a special position because they humbly recognized + this fact of ownership and adopted a respectful attitude + towards his property, and that of all other predatory + men in uniform he was distrustful and jealous. But + <a class="pagenum" id="page245" title="245"> </a>Doggie was a simple soul and went through a great + many elementary emotions, just as Monsieur Jourdain + spoke prose, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sans le savoir</em>. Without knowing it, he + would have gone to the ends of the earth for Jeanne, + have clubbed over the head any fellow-savage who + should seek to rob him of Jeanne. It did not occur + to him that savage instinct had already sent him into + the jaws of death, solely in order to establish his + primitive man’s ownership of Jeanne. When he came + to reflect, in his Doggie-ish way, on the motives of + his exploit, he was somewhat baffled. Jeanne, with + her tragic face, and her tragic history, and her steadfast + soul shining out of her eyes, was the most wonderful + woman he had ever met. She personified the heroic + womanhood of France. The foul invader had robbed + her of her family and her patrimony. The dead + were dead, and could not be restored; but the material + wealth, God—who else?—had given him this miraculous + chance to recover; and he had recovered it. + National pride helped to confuse issues. He, an + Englishman, had saved this heroic daughter of France + from poverty….</p> + + <p>If only he could have won back to his own trench, + and, later, when the company returned to Frélus, + he could have handed her the packet and seen the + light come into those wonderful eyes!</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Anyhow, she had received it. She sent him a + thousand thanks. How did she look, what did she + say when she cut the string and undid the seals and + found her little fortune?</p> + + <p>Translate Jeanne into a princess, the dirty waterproof + package into a golden casket, himself into a + knight disguised as a squire of low degree, and what + more could you want for a first-class fairy-tale? The + <a class="pagenum" id="page246" title="246"> </a>idea struck Doggie at the moment of “lights out,” + and he laughed aloud.</p> + + <p>“It doesn’t take much to amuse some people,” + growled his neighbour, Penworthy.</p> + + <p>“Sign of a happy disposition,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“What’ve you got to be happy about?”</p> + + <p>“I was thinking how alive we are, and how dead + you and I might be,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Well, I don’t think it funny thinking how one + might be dead,” replied Penworthy. “It gives me + the creeps. It’s all very well for you. You’ll stump + around for the rest of your life like a gentleman on + a wooden leg. Chaps like you have all the luck; + but as soon as I get out of this, I’ll be passed fit for + active service … and not so much of your larfing + at not being dead. See?”</p> + + <p>“All right, mate,” said Doggie. “Good night.”</p> + + <p>Penworthy made no immediate reply; but presently + he broke out:</p> + + <p>“What d’you mean by talking like that? I’d + hate being dead.”</p> + + <p>A voice from the far end of the room luridly requested + that the conversation should cease. Silence + reigned.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">A letter from Jeanne. The envelope bore a French + stamp with the Frélus postmark, and the address was + in a bold feminine hand. From whom could it be + but Jeanne? His heart gave a ridiculous leap and + he tore the envelope open as he had never torn open + envelope of Peggy’s. But at the first two words the + leap seemed to be one in mid-air, and his heart went + down, down, down like an aeroplane done in, and + arrived with a hideous bump upon rocks.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Cher Monsieur</em>”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page247" title="247"> </a><em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Cher Monsieur</em> from Jeanne—Jeanne who had + called him “Dog-gie” in accents that had rendered + adorable the once execrated syllables. <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Cher Monsieur!</em></p> + + <p>And the following, in formal French—it might + have been a convent exercise in composition—is what + she said:</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>“The military authorities have remitted into my + possession the package which you so heroically rescued + from the well of the farm of La Folette. It contains + all that my father was able to save of his fortune, and + on consultation with Maître Pépineau here, it appears + that I have sufficient to live modestly for the rest of + my life. For the marvellous devotion of you, monsieur, + an English gentleman, to the poor interests of + an obscure young French girl, I can never be sufficiently + grateful. There will never be a prayer of + mine, until I die, in which you will not be mentioned. + To me it will be always a symbolic act of your chivalrous + England in the aid of my beloved France. That + you have been wounded in this noble and selfless + enterprise, is to me a subject both of pride and terrifying + dismay. I am moved to the depths of my being. + But I have been assured, and your telegram confirms + the assurance, that your wound is not dangerous. + If you had been killed while rendering me this wonderful + service, or incapacitated so that you could no + longer strike a blow for your country and mine, I + should never have forgiven myself. I should have + felt that I had robbed France of a heroic defender. + I pray God that you may soon recover, and in fighting + once more against our common enemy, you may + win the glory that no English soldier can deserve + more than you. Forgive me if I express badly the + emotions which overwhelm me. It is impossible + <a class="pagenum" id="page248" title="248"> </a>that we shall meet again. One of the few English + novels I have tried to read, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">à coups de dictionnaire</em>, + was <cite>Ships that Pass in the Night</cite>. In spite + of the great thing that you have done for me, it is + inevitable that we should be such passing vessels. It + is life. If, as I shall ceaselessly pray, you survive + this terrible war, you will follow your destiny as an + Englishman of high position, and I that which God + marks out for me.</p> + + <p>“I ask you to accept again the expression of my + imperishable gratitude. Adieu.</p> + + <p class="signature">“<span class="name">Jeanne Bossière.</span>”</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>The more often Doggie read this perfectly phrased + epistle, the greater waxed his puzzledom. The + gratitude was all there; more than enough. It was + gratitude and nothing else. He had longed for a + human story telling just how the thing had happened, + just how Jeanne had felt. He had wanted her to + say: “Get well soon and come back, and I’ll tell + you all about it.” But instead of that she dwelt on + the difference of their social status, loftily announced + that they would never meet again and that they would + follow different destinies, and bade him the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">adieu</em> + which in French is the final leave-taking. All of + which to Doggie, the unsophisticated, would have + seemed ridiculous, had it not been so tragic. He + couldn’t reconcile the beautiful letter, written in + faultless handwriting and impeccable French, with the + rain-swept girl on the escarpment. What did she + mean? What had come over her?</p> + + <p>But the ways of Jeannes are not the ways of Doggies. + How was he to know of the boastings of Phineas + McPhail, and the hopelessness with which they filled + Jeanne’s heart? How was he to know that she had + <a class="pagenum" id="page249" title="249"> </a>sat up most of the night in her little room over the + gateway, drafting and redrafting this precious composition, + until, having reduced it to soul-devastating + correctitude, and, with aching eyes and head, made a + fair and faultless copy, she had once more cried herself + into miserable slumber?</p> + + <p>At once Doggie called for pad and pencil, and + began to write:</p> + + <blockquote> + <p class="salutation">“My dear Jeanne,—</p> + + <p>“I don’t understand. What fly has stung you? + (<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Quelle mouche vous a piquée?</em>) Of course we shall + meet again. Do you suppose I am going to let you + go out of my life?”</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>(He sucked his pencil. Jeanne must be spoken to + severely.)</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>“What rubbish are you talking about my social + position? My father was an English parson (<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pasteur + anglais</em>) and yours a French lawyer. If I have a + little money of my own, so have you. And we are + not ships and we have not passed in the night. And + that we should not meet again is not Life. It is + absurdity. We are going to meet as soon as wounds + and war will let me, and I am not your ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Cher Monsieur</em>,’ + but your ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Cher Dog-gie</em>,’ and——”</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>“Here is a letter for you, brought by hand,” said + the nurse, bustling to his bedside.</p> + + <p>It was from Peggy.</p> + + <p>“Oh, lord!” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>Peggy was there. She had arrived from Durdlebury + all alone, the night before, and was putting up + at an hotel. The venerable idiot, with red crosses + and bits of tin all over her, who seemed to run the + hospital, wouldn’t let her in to see him till the regulation + <a class="pagenum" id="page250" title="250"> </a>visiting hour of three o’clock. That she, Peggy, + was a Dean’s daughter, who had travelled hundreds + of miles to see the man she was engaged to, did not + seem to impress the venerable idiot in the least. Till + three o’clock then. With love from Peggy.</p> + + <p>“The lady, I believe, is waiting for an answer,” + said the nurse.</p> + + <p>“Oh, my hat!” said Doggie below his breath.</p> + + <p>To write the answer, he had to strip from the pad + the page on which he had begun the letter to Jeanne. + He wrote: “Dearest Peggy.” Then the pencil-point’s + impress through the thin paper stared at him. + Almost every word was decipherable. Recklessly he + tore the pad in half and on a virgin page scribbled his + message to Peggy. The nurse departed with it. He + took up the flimsy sheet containing his interrupted + letter to Jeanne and glanced at it in dismay. For + the first time it struck him that such words, to a + girl even of the lowest intelligence, could only have + one interpretation. Doggie said, “Oh, lord!” and + “Oh, my hat!” and Oh all sorts of unprintable + things that he had learned in the army. And he + put to himself the essential question: What the Hades + was he playing at?</p> + + <p>Obviously, the first thing to do was to destroy the + letter to Jeanne and the tell-tale impress. This he + forthwith did. He tore the sheets into the tiniest + fragments, stretched out his arm to put the handful + on the table by the bed, missed his aim and dropped it + on the floor. Whereby he incurred the just wrath + of the hard-worked nurse.</p> + + <p>Again he took up Jeanne’s letter. After all, what + was wrong with it? He must look at things from + her point of view. What had really happened? Let + him set out the facts judicially. They had struck up + <a class="pagenum" id="page251" title="251"> </a>a day or two’s friendship. She had told him, as she + might have told any decent soul, her sad and romantic + story. The English during the great retreat had + rendered her unforgettable services. She was a girl + of a generously responsive nature. She would pay + her debt of gratitude to the English soldier. Her + fine <em>vale</em> on the memorable night of rain was part + payment of her debt to England. Yes. Let him get + things in the right perspective…. She had made + friends with him because he was one of the few private + soldiers who could speak her language. It was but + natural that she should tell him of the sunken packet. + It was one of the most vital facts of her life. But + just an outside fact: nothing to do with any shy + mysterious workings of her woman’s soul. She might + have told the story to any man in the company without + derogation from her womanly dignity. And any + man Jack of them, having Jeanne’s confidence, having + the knowledge of the situation of the ruined well, + having the God-sent opportunity of recovering the + treasure, would, of absolute certainty, have done + exactly what he, Doggie, had done. Supposing Mo + Shendish had been the privileged person, instead of + himself. What, by way of thanks, could Jeanne have + written? A letter practically identical.</p> + + <p>Practically. A very comfortable sort of word; but + Doggie’s cultivated mind disliked it. It was a slovenly + word, a makeshift for the hard broom of clean thought. + This infernal “practically” begged the whole question. + Jeanne would not have sentimentalized to Mo + Shendish about ships passing in the night. No, she + wouldn’t, in spite of all his efforts to persuade himself + that she would. Well, perhaps dear old Mo was a + rough, uneducated sort of chap. He could not have + established with Jeanne such delicate relations of + <a class="pagenum" id="page252" title="252"> </a>friendship as exist between social equals. Obviously + the finer shades of her letter would have varied according + to the personality of the recipient. Jeanne and + himself, owing to the abnormal conditions of war, + had suddenly become very intimate friends. The + war, as she imagined, must part them for ever. She + bade him a touching and dignified farewell, and that + was the end of the matter. It had all been an idyllic + episode; beginning, middle, and end; neatly rounded + off; a thing done, and done with—except as a strange + romantic memory. It was all over. As long as he + remained in the army, a condition for which, as a + private soldier, he was not responsible, how could he + see Jeanne again? By the time he rejoined, the + regiment would be many miles away from Frélus. + This, in her clear, steady way, she realized. Her + letter must be final.</p> + + <p>It had to be final. Was not Peggy coming at + three o’clock?</p> + + <p>Again Doggie thought, somewhat wistfully, of the + old care-free, full physical life, and again he murmured:</p> + + <p>“It’s all dam funny!”</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Peggy stood for a moment at the door scanning + the ward; then perceiving him, she marched down + with a defiant glance at nurses and blue-uniformed + comrades and men in bed and other strangers, swung + a chair and established herself by his bedside.</p> + + <p>“You dear old thing, I couldn’t bear to think of + you lying here alone,” she said, with the hurry that + seeks to cover shyness. “I had to come. Mother’s + gone <em>fut</em> and can’t travel, and Dad’s running all the + parsons’ shows in the district. Otherwise one of + them would have come too.”</p> + + <p>“It’s awfully good of you, Peggy,” he said, with + <a class="pagenum" id="page253" title="253"> </a>a smile, for fair and flushed she was pleasant to look + upon. “But it must have been a fiendish journey.”</p> + + <p>“Rotten!” said Peggy. “But that’s a trifle. + You’re the all-important thing. Tell me straight. + You’re not badly hurt, are you?”</p> + + <p>“Lord, no,” he replied cheerfully. “Just the + fleshy part of the leg—a clean bullet-wound. Bone + touched; but they say I’ll be fit quite soon.”</p> + + <p>“Sure? They’re not going to cut off your leg + or do anything horrid?”</p> + + <p>He laughed. “Sure,” said he.</p> + + <p>“That’s all right.”</p> + + <p>There was a pause. Now that they had met they + seemed to have little to say. She looked around. + Presently she remarked:</p> + + <p>“Everything looks quite fresh and clean.”</p> + + <p>“It’s perfect.”</p> + + <p>“Rather public, though,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>“Publicity is the paradoxical condition of the + private’s life,” laughed Doggie.</p> + + <p>Another pause.</p> + + <p>“Well, how are you feeling?”</p> + + <p>“First-rate,” said Doggie. “It’s nothing to fuss + over. I hope to be out again in a month or two.”</p> + + <p>“Out where?”</p> + + <p>“In France—with the regiment.”</p> + + <p>Peggy drew a little breath of astonishment and sat + up on her chair. His surprising statement seemed to + have broken up the atmosphere of restraint.</p> + + <p>“Do you mean to say you <em>want</em> to go back to the + trenches?”</p> + + <p>Conscientious Doggie knitted his brows. A fervent + “Yes” would proclaim him a modern Paladin, eager + to slay Huns. Now, as a patriotic Englishman he + loved Huns to be slain, but as the survivor of James + <a class="pagenum" id="page254" title="254"> </a>Marmaduke Trevor, dilettante expert on the theorbo + and the viol da gamba and owner of the peacock and + ivory room in Denby Hall, to say nothing of the + collector of little china dogs, he could not honestly + declare that he enjoyed the various processes of slaying + them.</p> + + <p>“I can’t explain,” he replied, after a while. + “When I was out, I thought I hated every minute + of it. Now I look back, I find I’ve had quite a good + time. I’ve not once really been sick or sorry. For + instance, I’ve often thought myself beastly miserable + with wet and mud and east wind—but I’ve never + had even a cold in the head. I never knew how good + it was to feel fit. And there are other things. When + I left Durdlebury, I hadn’t a man friend in the world. + Now I have a lot of wonderful pals who would go + through hell for one another—and for me.”</p> + + <p>“Tommies?”</p> + + <p>“Of course—Tommies.”</p> + + <p>“You mean gentlemen in the ranks?”</p> + + <p>“Not a bit of it. Or yes. All are gentlemen in + the ranks. All sorts and conditions of men. The + man whom I honour and love more than anyone else, + comes from a fish-shop in Hackney. That’s the + fascinating part of it. Do understand me, Peggy,” + he continued, after a short silence, during which she + regarded him almost uncomprehendingly. “I don’t + say I’m yearning to sleep in a filthy dug out or to + wallow in the ground under shell-fire, or anything of + that sort. That’s beastly. There’s only one other + word for it, which begins with the same letter, and + the superior kind of private doesn’t use it in ladies’ + society…. But while I’m lying here I wonder + what all the other fellows are doing—they’re such + good chaps—real, true, clean men—out there you + <a class="pagenum" id="page255" title="255"> </a>seem to get to essentials—all the rest is leather and + prunella—and I want to be back among them again. + Why should I be in clover while they’re in choking + dust—a lot of it composed of desiccated Boches?”</p> + + <p>“How horrid!” cried Peggy, with a little shiver.</p> + + <p>“Of course it’s horrid. But they’ve got to stick + it, haven’t they? And then there’s another thing. + Out there one hasn’t any worries.”</p> + + <p>Peggy pricked up her ears. “Worries? What + kind of worries?”</p> + + <p>Doggie became conscious of indiscretion. He + temporized.</p> + + <p>“Oh, all kinds. Every man with a sort of trained + intellect must have them. You remember John + Stuart Mill’s problem: ‘Which would you sooner + be—a contented hog, or a discontented philosopher?’ + At the Front you have all the joys of the contented + hog.”</p> + + <p>Instinctively he stretched out his hand for a cigarette. + She bent forward, gripped a matchbox, and lit the + cigarette for him.</p> + + <p>Doggie thanked her politely; but in a dim way + he felt conscious of something lacking in her little + act of helpfulness. It had been performed with the + unsmiling perfunctoriness of the nurse; an act of + duty, not of tenderness. As she blew out the match, + which she did with an odd air of deliberation, her face + wore the same expression of hardness it had done + on that memorable day when she had refused him her + sympathy over the white feather incident.</p> + + <p>“I can’t understand your wanting to go back at + all. Surely you’ve done your bit,” she said.</p> + + <p>“No one has done his bit who’s alive and able to + carry on,” replied Doggie.</p> + + <p>Peggy reflected. Yes. There was some truth in + <a class="pagenum" id="page256" title="256"> </a>that. But she thought it rather hard lines on the + wounded to be sent back as soon as they were patched + up. Most of them hated the prospect. That was + why she couldn’t understand Doggie’s desire.</p> + + <p>“Anyhow, it’s jolly noble of you, dear old thing,” + she declared with rather a spasmodic change of manner, + “and I’m very proud of you.”</p> + + <p>“For God’s sake, don’t go imagining me a hero,” + cried Doggie in alarm, “for I’m not. I hate the + fighting like poison. The only reason I don’t run + away is because I can’t. It would be far more + dangerous than standing still. It would mean an + officer’s bullet through my head at once.”</p> + + <p>“Any man who is wounded in the defence of his + country is a hero,” said Peggy defiantly.</p> + + <p>“Rot!” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“And all this time you haven’t told me how you + got it. How did you?”</p> + + <p>Doggie squirmed. The inevitable and dreaded + question had come at last.</p> + + <p>“I just got sniped when I was out, at night, with + a wiring party,” he said hurriedly.</p> + + <p>“But that’s no description at all,” she objected.</p> + + <p>“I’m afraid it’s all I can give,” Doggie replied. + Then, by way of salve to a sensitive conscience, he + added: “There was nothing brave or heroic about + it, at all—just a silly accident. It was as safe as tying + up hollyhocks in a garden. Only an idiot Boche let + off his gun on spec and got me. Don’t let us talk + about it.”</p> + + <p>But Peggy was insistent. “I’m not such a fool + as not to know what mending barbed wire at night + means. And whatever you may say, you got wounded + in the service of your country.”</p> + + <p>It was on Doggie’s agitated lips to shout a true + <a class="pagenum" id="page257" title="257"> </a>“I didn’t!” For that was the devil of it. Had + he been so wounded, he could have purred contentedly + while accepting the genuine hero’s meed of homage + and consolation. But he had left his country’s service + to enter that of Jeanne. In her service he had been + shot through the leg. He had no business to be + wounded at all. Jeanne saw that very clearly. To + have exposed himself to the risk of his exploit was + contrary to all his country’s interests. His wound + had robbed her of a fighting man, not a particularly + valuable warrior, but a soldier in the firing line all + the same. If every man went off like that on private + missions of his own and got properly potted, there + would be the end of the Army. It was horrible to + be an interesting hero under false pretences.</p> + + <p>Of course he might have been George Washingtonian + enough to shout: “I cannot tell a lie. I + didn’t.” But that would have meant relating the + whole story of Jeanne. And would Peggy have understood + the story of Jeanne? Could Peggy, in her + plain-sailing, breezy British way, have appreciated all + the subtleties of his relations with Jeanne? She would + ask pointed, probably barbed, questions about Jeanne. + She would tear the whole romance to shreds. Jeanne + stood too exquisite a symbol for him to permit the + sacrilege of Peggy’s ruthless vivisection. For vivisect + she would, without shadow of doubt. His long and + innocent familiarity with womankind in Durdlebury + had led him instinctively to the conclusion formulated + by one of the world’s greatest cynics in his advice + to a young man: “If you care for happiness, never + speak to a woman about another woman.”</p> + + <p>Doggie felt uncomfortable as he looked into Peggy’s + clear blue eyes; not conscience-stricken at the realization + of himself as a scoundrelly Don Juan—that never + <a class="pagenum" id="page258" title="258"> </a>entered his ingenuous mind; but he hated his enforced + departure from veracity. The one virtue that had + dragged the toy Pom successfully along the Rough + Road of the soldier’s life was his uncompromising + attitude to Truth. It cost him a sharp struggle with + his soul to reply to Peggy:</p> + + <p>“All right. Have it so if it pleases you, my dear. + But it was an idiot fluke all the same.”</p> + + <p>“I wonder if you know how you’ve changed,” + she said, after a while.</p> + + <p>“For better or worse?”</p> + + <p>“The obvious thing to say would be ‘for the + better.’ But I wonder. Do you mind if I’m + frank?”</p> + + <p>“Not a bit.”</p> + + <p>“There’s something hard about you, Marmaduke.”</p> + + <p>Doggie wrinkled lips and brow in a curious smile. + “I’ll be frank too. You see, I’ve been living among + men, instead of a pack of old women.”</p> + + <p>“I suppose that’s it,” Peggy said thoughtfully.</p> + + <p>“It’s a dud sort of place, Durdlebury,” said he.</p> + + <p>“Dud?”</p> + + <p>He laughed. “It never goes off.”</p> + + <p>“You used to say, in your letters, that you longed + for it.”</p> + + <p>“Perhaps I do now—in a way. I don’t know.”</p> + + <p>“I bet you’ll settle down there after the war, + just as though nothing had happened.”</p> + + <p>“I wonder,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Of course you will. Do you remember our + plans for the reconstruction of Denby Hall, which + were knocked on the head? All that’ll have to be + gone into again.”</p> + + <p>“That doesn’t mean that we need curl ourselves + up there for ever like caterpillars in a cabbage.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page259" title="259"> </a>She arched her eyebrows. “What would you like + to do?”</p> + + <p>“I think I’ll want to go round and round the world + till I’m dizzy.”</p> + + <p>At this amazing pronouncement from Marmaduke + Trevor, Peggy gasped. It also astonished Doggie + himself. He had not progressed so far on the road + to self-emancipation as to dream of a rupture of his + engagement. His marriage was as much a decree of + destiny as had been his enlistment when he walked + to Peter Pan’s statue in Kensington Gardens. But + the war had made the prospect a distant one. In + the vague future he would marry and settle down. + But now Peggy brought it into alarming nearness, + thereby causing him considerable agitation. To go + back to vegetation in Durdlebury, even with so desirable + a companion cabbage as Peggy, just when he was + beginning to conjecture what there might be of joy + and thrill in life—the thought dismayed him; and + the sudden dismay found expression in his rhetorical + outburst.</p> + + <p>“Oh, if you want to travel for a year or two, I’m + all for it,” cried Peggy. “I can’t say I’ve seen much + of the world. But we’ll soon get sick of it, and + yearn for home. There’ll be lots of things to do. + We’ll take up our position as county people—no + more of the stuffy old women you’re so down on—and + you’ll get into Parliament and sit on committees, + and so on, and altogether we’ll have a topping time.”</p> + + <p>Doggie had an odd sensation that a stranger spoke + through Peggy’s familiar lips. Well, perhaps, not a + stranger, but a half-forgotten dead and gone acquaintance.</p> + + <p>“Don’t you think the war will change things—if + it hasn’t changed them already?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page260" title="260"> </a>“Not a bit,” Peggy replied. “Dad’s always talking + learnedly about social reconstruction, whatever + that means. But if people have got money and position + and all that sort of thing, who’s going to take it away + from them? You don’t suppose we’re all going to + turn socialists and pool the wealth of the country, and + everybody’s going to live in a garden-city and wear + sandals and eat nuts?”</p> + + <p>“Of course not,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Well, how are people like ourselves going to + feel any difference in what you call social conditions?”</p> + + <p>Doggie lit another cigarette, chiefly in order to + gain time for thought; but an odd instinct made + him secure the matchbox before he picked out the + cigarette. Superficially, Peggy’s proposition was incontrovertible. + Unless there happened some social + cataclysm, involving a newly democratized world in + ghastly chaos, which after all was a remote possibility, + the externals of gentle life would undergo very slight + modification. Yet there was something fundamentally + wrong in Peggy’s conception of post-war existence. + Something wrong in essentials. Now, a critical attitude + towards Peggy, whose presence was a proof of + her splendid loyalty, seemed hateful. But there was + something wrong all the same. Something wrong in + Peggy herself that put her into opposition. In one + aspect, she was the pre-war Peggy, with her cut-and-dried + little social ambitions and her definite projects + of attainment; but in another she was not. The + pre-war Peggy had swiftly turned into the patriotic + English girl who had hounded him into the army. + He found himself face to face with an amorphous, + characterless sort of Peggy whom he did not know. + It was perplexing, baffling. Before he could formulate + an idea, she went on:</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page261" title="261"> </a>“You silly old thing, what change is there likely + to be? What change is there now, after all? + There’s a scarcity of men. Naturally. They’re out + fighting. But when they come home on leave, life + goes on just the same as before—tennis parties, little + dances, dinners. Of course, lots of people are hard + hit. Did I tell you that Jack Paunceby was killed—the + only son? The war’s awful and dreadful, I + know—but if we don’t go through with it cheerfully, + what’s the good of us?”</p> + + <p>“I think I’m pretty cheerful,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Oh, you’re not grousing and you’re making the + best of it. You’re perfectly splendid. But you’re + philosophizing such a lot over it. The only thing + before us is to do in Germany, Prussian militarism, + and so on, and then there’ll be peace, and we’ll all + be happy again.”</p> + + <p>“Have you met many men who say that?” he + asked.</p> + + <p>“Heaps. Oliver was only talking about it the + other day.”</p> + + <p>“Oliver?”</p> + + <p>At his quick challenge he could not help noticing + a little cloud, as of vexation, pass over her face.</p> + + <p>“Yes, Oliver,” she replied, with an unnecessary + air of defiance. “He has been over here on short + leave. Went back a fortnight ago. He’s as cheerful + as cheerful can be. Jollier than ever he was. I took + him out in the dear old two-seater and he insisted on + driving to show how they drove at the Front—and + it’s only because the Almighty must have kept a special + eye on a Dean’s daughter that I’m here to tell the + tale.”</p> + + <p>“You saw a lot of him, I suppose?” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>A flush rose on Peggy’s cheek. “Of course. He + <a class="pagenum" id="page262" title="262"> </a>was staying at the Deanery most of his time. I wrote + to you about it. I’ve made a point of telling you + everything. I even told you about the two-seater.”</p> + + <p>“So you did,” said Doggie. “I remember.” He + smiled. “Your description made me laugh. Oliver’s + a major now, isn’t he?”</p> + + <p>“Yes. And just before he got his majority they + gave him the Military Cross.”</p> + + <p>“He must be an awful swell,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>She replied with some heat. “He hasn’t changed + the least little bit in the world.”</p> + + <p>Doggie shook his head. “No one can go through + it, really go through it, and come back the same.”</p> + + <p>“You don’t insinuate that Oliver hasn’t really gone + through it?”</p> + + <p>“Of course not, Peggy dear. They don’t throw + M.C.’s about like Iron Crosses. In order to get it + Oliver must have looked into the jaws of hell. They + all do. But no man is the same afterwards. Oliver + has what the French call <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">panache</em>——”</p> + + <p>“What’s <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">panache</em>?”</p> + + <p>“The real heroic swagger—something spiritual + about it. Oliver’s not going to let you notice the + change in him.”</p> + + <p>“We went to the Alhambra, and he laughed as + if such a thing as war had never been heard of.”</p> + + <p>“Naturally,” said Doggie. “All that’s part of + the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">panache</em>.”</p> + + <p>“You’re talking through your hat, Marmaduke,” + she exclaimed with some irritation. “Oliver’s a + straight, clean, English soldier.”</p> + + <p>“I’ve been doing my best to tell you so,” said + Doggie.</p> + + <p>“But you seem to be criticizing him because he’s + concealing something behind what you call his <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">panache</em>.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page263" title="263"> </a>“Not criticizing, dear. Only stating. I think I’m + more Oliverian than you.”</p> + + <p>“I’m not Oliverian,” cried Peggy, with burning + cheeks. “And I don’t see why we should discuss + him like this. All I said was that Oliver, who has + made himself a distinguished man and will be even + more distinguished, and, at any rate, knows what + he’s talking about, doesn’t worry his head with social + reconstruction and all that sort of rot. I’ve come + here to talk about you, not about Oliver. Let us + leave him out of the question.”</p> + + <p>“Willingly,” said Doggie. “I never had any + reason to love Oliver; but I must do him justice. + I only wanted to show you that he must be a bigger + man than you imagine.”</p> + + <p>“I’m glad to hear you say so,” cried Peggy, with + a flash of the eyes. “I hope it’s true.”</p> + + <p>“The war’s such a whacking big thing, you see,” + he said with a conciliatory smile. “No one can + prophesy exactly what’s going to come out of it. + But the whole of human society … the world, the + whole of civilization, is being stirred up like a Christmas + pudding. The war’s bound to change the trend of + all human thought. There must be an entire rearrangement + of social values.”</p> + + <p>“I’m sorry; but I don’t see it,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>Doggie again wrinkled his brow and looked at her, + and she returned his glance stonily.</p> + + <p>“You think I’m mulish.”</p> + + <p>She had interpreted Doggie’s thought, but he raised + a hand in protest.</p> + + <p>“No, no.”</p> + + <p>“Yes, yes. Every man looks at a woman like + that when he thinks her a mule or an idiot. We + get to learn it in our cradles. But in spite of your + <a class="pagenum" id="page264" title="264"> </a>superior wisdom, I know I’m right. After the war + there won’t be a bit of change, really. A duke will + be a duke, and a costermonger a costermonger.”</p> + + <p>“These are extreme cases. The duke may remain + a duke, but he won’t be such a little tin god on wheels. + He’ll find himself in the position of a democratic + country gentleman. And the costermonger will rise + to the political position of an important tradesman. + But between the two there’ll be any old sort of + flux.”</p> + + <p>“Did you learn all this horrible, rank socialism + in France?”</p> + + <p>“Perhaps, but it seems so obvious.”</p> + + <p>“It’s only because you’ve been living among + Tommies, who’ve got these stupid ideas into their + heads. If you had been living among your social + equals——”</p> + + <p>“In Durdlebury?”</p> + + <p>She flashed rebellion. “Yes. In Durdlebury. + Why not?”</p> + + <p>“I’m afraid, Peggy dear,” he said, with his patient, + pleasant smile, “you are rather sheltered from the + war in Durdlebury.”</p> + + <p>She cried out indignantly.</p> + + <p>“Indeed we’re not. The newspapers come to + Durdlebury, don’t they? And everybody’s doing + something. We have the war all around us. We’ve + even succeeded in getting wounded soldiers in the + Cottage Hospital. Nancy Murdoch is a V.A.D. and + scrubs floors. Cissy James is driving a Y.M.C.A. + motor-car in Calais. Jane Brown-Gore is nursing + in Salonika. We read all their letters. Personally, + I can’t do much, because mother has crocked up and + I’ve got to run the Deanery. But I’m slaving from + morning to night. Only last week I got up a concert + <a class="pagenum" id="page265" title="265"> </a>for the wounded. Alone I did it—and it takes some + doing in Durdlebury, now that you’re away and the + Musical Association has perished of inanition. Old + Dr. Flint’s no earthly good, since Tom, the eldest + son—you remember—was killed in Mesopotamia. So + I did it all, and it was a great success. We netted + four hundred and seventy pounds. And whenever I + can get a chance, I go round the hospital and talk + and read to the men and write their letters, and hear + of everything. I don’t think you’ve any right to + say we’re out of touch with the war. In a sort of + way, I know as much about it as you do.”</p> + + <p>Doggie in some perplexity scratched his head, a + thing which he would never have done at Durdlebury. + With humorous intent he asked:</p> + + <p>“Do you know as much as Oliver?”</p> + + <p>“Oliver’s a field officer,” she replied tartly, and + Doggie felt snubbed. “But I’m sure he agrees with + everything I say.” She paused and, in a different + tone, went on: “Don’t you think it’s rather rotten + to have this piffling argument when I’ve come all + this long way to see you?”</p> + + <p>“Forgive me, Peggy,” he said penitently; “I + appreciate your coming more than I can say.”</p> + + <p>She was not appeased. “And yet you don’t give + me credit for playing the game.”</p> + + <p>“What game?” he asked with a smile.</p> + + <p>“Surely you ought to know.”</p> + + <p>He reached out his hand and took hers. “Am I + worth it, Peggy?”</p> + + <p>Her lips twitched and tears stood in her eyes.</p> + + <p>“I don’t know what you mean?”</p> + + <p>“Neither do I quite,” he replied simply. “But + it seems that I’m a Tommy through and through, + and that I’ll never get Tommy out of my soul.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page266" title="266"> </a>“That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she declared + stoutly.</p> + + <p>“Of course not. But it makes one see all sorts + of things in a different light.”</p> + + <p>“Oh, don’t worry your head about that,” she said, + with pathetic misunderstanding. “We’ll put you all + right as soon as we get you back to Durdlebury. I + suppose you won’t refuse to come this time.”</p> + + <p>“Yes, I’ll come this time,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>So he promised, and the talk drifted on to casual + lines. She gave him the mild chronicle of the sleepy + town, described plays which she had seen on her + rare visits to London, sketched out a programme for + his all too short visit to the Deanery.</p> + + <p>“And in the meanwhile,” she remarked, “try to + get these morbid ideas out of your silly old head.”</p> + + <p>Time came for parting. She rose and shook hands.</p> + + <p>“Don’t think I’ve said anything in depreciation of + Tommies. I understand them thoroughly. They’re + wonderful fellows. Good-bye, old boy. Get well + soon.”</p> + + <p>She kissed her hand to him at the door, and was + gone.</p> + + <p>It was now that Doggie began to hate himself. + For all the time that Peggy had been running on, + eager to convince him that his imputation of aloofness + from the war was undeserved, the voice of one who, + knowing its splendours and its terrors, had pierced to + the heart of its mysteries, ran in his ears.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Leur gaieté fait peur.</em>”</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XIX"><a class="pagenum" id="page267" title="267"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XIX</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> X-rays showed the tiniest splinter of bone + in Doggie’s thigh. The surgeon fished it up + and the clean wound healed rapidly. The gloomy + Penworthy’s prognostication had not come true. + Doggie would not stump about at ease on a wooden + leg; but in all probability would soon find himself + back in the firing line—a prospect which brought + great cheer to Penworthy. Also to Doggie. For, + in spite of the charm of the pretty hospital, the health-giving + sea air, the long rest for body and nerves, life + seemed flat and unprofitable.</p> + + <p>He had written a gay, irreproachable letter to + Jeanne, to which Jeanne, doubtless thinking it the + last word of the episode, had not replied. Loyalty + to Peggy forbade further thought of Jeanne. He + must henceforward think of Peggy and her sturdy + faithfulness as hard as he could. But the more he + thought, the more remote did Peggy seem. Of course + the publicity of the interview had invested it with a + certain constraint, knocked out of it any approach + to sentimentality or romance. They had not even + kissed. They had spent most of the time arguing + from different points of view. They had been near + to quarrelling. It was outrageous of him to criticize + her; yet how could he help it? The mere fact of + striving to exalt her was a criticism.</p> + + <p>Indeed they were far apart. Into the sensitive + soul of Doggie the war in all its meaning had paused. + <a class="pagenum" id="page268" title="268"> </a>The soul of Peggy had remained untouched. To her, + in her sheltered corner of England, it was a ghastly + accident, like a railway collision blocking the traffic + on her favourite line. For the men of her own class + who took part in it, it was a brave adventure; for + the common soldier a sad but patriotic necessity. If + circumstances had allowed her to go forth into the + war-world as nurse or canteen helper at a London + terminus, or motor driver in France, her horizon would + have broadened. But the contact with realities into + which her dilettante little war activities brought her + was too slight to make the deep impression. In her + heart, as far as she revealed herself to Doggie, she + resented the war because it interfered with her own + definitely marked out scheme of existence. The war + over, she would regard it politely as a thing that had + never been, and would forthwith set to work upon + her aforesaid interrupted plan. And towards a comprehension + of this apparent serenity the perplexed + mind of Doggie groped with ill-success. All his old + values had been kicked into higgledy-piggledy confusion. + All hers remained steadfast.</p> + + <p>So Doggie reflected with some grimness that there + are rougher roads than those which lead to the trenches.</p> + + <p>A letter from Phineas did not restore equanimity. + It ran:</p> + + <blockquote> + <p class="salutation">“My dear Laddie,—</p> + + <p>“Our unsophisticated friend, Mo, and myself + are writing this letter together and he bids me begin + it by saying that he hopes it finds you as it leaves us + at present, in a muck of dust and perspiration. Where + we are now I must not tell, for (in the opinion of the + Censor) you would reveal it to the very Reverend + the Dean of Durdlebury, who would naturally telegraph + <a class="pagenum" id="page269" title="269"> </a>the information to the Kaiser. But the Division + is far, far from the idyllic land of your dreams, and + there is bloody fighting ahead of us. And though + the hearts of Mo and me go out to you, laddie, and + though we miss you sore, yet Mo says he’s blistering + glad you’re out of it and safe in your perishing bed + with a Blighty one. And such, in more academic + phraseology, are the sentiments of your old friend + Phineas.</p> + + <p>“Ah, laddie! it was a bad day when we marched + from the old billets; for the word had gone round + that we weren’t going back. I had taken the liberty + of telling the lassie ye ken of something about your + private position and your worldly affairs, of which it + seems you had left her entirely ignorant. Of course, + with my native Scottish caution, and my knowledge + of human nature gained in the academies of prosperity + and the ragged schools of adversity, I did not touch + on certain matters of a delicate nature. That is no + business of mine. If there is discretion in this world + in which you can trust blindly, it is that of Phineas + McPhail. I just told her of Denby Hall and your + fortune, which I fairly accurately computed at a + couple of million francs. For I thought it was right + she should know that you weren’t just a scallywag + private soldier like the rest of us. And I am bound + to say that the lassie was considerably impressed. In + further conversation I told her something of your + early life, and, though not over desirous of blackening + my character in her bonnie eyes, I let her know what + kind of an injudicious upbringing you had been compelled + to undergo. ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il a été élevé</em>,’ said I, ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">dans</em>——’ + What the blazes was the French for cotton-wool? + The war has a pernicious effect on one’s memory—I + sometimes even forget the elementary sensations of + <a class="pagenum" id="page270" title="270"> </a>inebriety. ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Dans la ouate</em>,’ she said. And I remembered + the word. ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui, dans la ouate</em>,’ said I. + And she looked at me, laddie, or, rather, through me, + out of her great dark eyes—you mind the way she + treats your substance as a shadow and looks through + it at the shadows that to her are substances—and + she said below her breath—I don’t think she meant + me to hear it—‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Et c’est lui qui a fait cela pour + moi</em>.’</p> + + <p>“Mo, in his materialistic way, is clamorous that + I should tell you about the chicken; the which, + being symbolical, I proceed to do. It was our last + day. She invited us to lunch in the kitchen and shut + the door so that none of the hungry varlets of the + company should stick in their unmannerly noses and + whine for scraps. And there, laddie, was an omelette + and cutlets and a chicken and a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fromage à la crême</em> + such as in the days of my vanity I have never eaten, + cooked by the old body whose soul you won with a + pinch of snuff. The poor lassie could scarcely eat; + but Mo saw that there was nothing left. The bones + on his plate looked as if a dog had been at them for + a week. And there was vintage Haut Sauterne which + ran down one’s throat like scented gold. ‘Man,’ + said I to Mo, ‘if you lap it up like that you’ll be as + drunk as Noah.’ So he cast a frightened glance at + mademoiselle and sipped like a young lady at a christening + party. Then she brings out cherries and plums + and peaches and opens a half-bottle of champagne + and fills all our glasses, and Toinette had a glass; and + she rises in the pale, dignified, Greek tragedy way she + has, and she makes a wee bit speech. ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Messieurs</em>,’ + she said, ‘perhaps you may wonder why I have invited + you. But I think you understand. It is the only + way I had of sharing with Doggie’s friends the fortune + <a class="pagenum" id="page271" title="271"> </a>that he had so heroically brought me. It is but a little + tribute of my gratitude to Doggie. You are his friends + and I wish well that you would be mine—<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">très franchement, + très loyalement</em>.’ She put out her hand and we + shook it. And old Mo said, ‘Miss, I’d go to hell + for you!’ Whereupon the little red spot you may + have seen for yourself, came into her pale cheek, + and a soft look like a flitting moonbeam crept into + her eyes. Laddie, if I’m waxing too poetical, just + consider that Mademoiselle Jeanne Bossière is not the + ordinary woman the British private soldier is in the + habit of consorting with. Then she took up her + glass. ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je vais porter un toast—Vive l’Angleterre!</em>’ + And although a Scotsman, I drank it as if it applied + to me. And then she cried, ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive la France!</em>’ And + old Toinette cried, ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive la France!</em>’</p> + + <p>“And they looked transfigured, and I fairly itched + to sing the Marseillaise, though I knew I couldn’t. + Then she chinked glasses with us.</p> + + <p>“‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bonne chance, mes amis!</em>’</p> + + <p>“And then she made a sign to the auld wife, who + added the few remaining drops to our glasses. ‘To + Doggie!’ said mademoiselle. We drank the toast, + laddie. Old Mo began in his cracked voice, ‘For + he’s a jolly good fellow.’ I kicked him and told him + to shut up. But mademoiselle said:</p> + + <p>“‘I’ve heard of that. It is a ceremony. I like + it. Continue.’</p> + + <p>“So Mo and I held up our glasses and, in indifferent + song, proclaimed you what the Army, developing + certain rudimentary germs, has made you, and mademoiselle + too held up her glass and threw back her head + and joined us in the hip, hip, hoorays. It would + have done your heart good, laddie, to have been there + to see. But we did you proud.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page272" title="272"> </a>“When we emerged from the festival, the prettiest + which, in the course of a variegated career, I have + ever attended, Mo says:</p> + + <p>“‘If I hadn’t a gel at home——’</p> + + <p>“‘If you hadn’t got a girl at home,’ said I, ‘you’d + be the next damnedest fool in the army to Phineas + McPhail!’</p> + + <p>“We marched out just before dusk, and there she + was by the front door; and though she stood proud + and upright, and smiled with her lips and blew us + kisses with both hands, to which the boys all responded + with a cheer, there were tears streaming down her + cheeks—and the tears, laddie, were not for Mo, or + me, or any one of us ugly beggars that passed her by.</p> + + <p>“I also have good news for you, in that I hear + from the thunderous, though excellent, Sergeant + Ballinghall, there is a probability that when you rejoin, + the C.O. will be afflicted with a grievous lapse of + memory and that he will be persuaded that you + received your wound during the attack on the wiring + party.</p> + + <p>“As I said before, laddie, we’re all like the Scots + wha’ hae wi’ Wallace bled and are going to our gory + bed or to victory. Possibly both. But I will remain + steadfast to my philosophy, and if I am condemned to + the said sanguinolent couch, I will do my best to derive + from it the utmost enjoyment possible. All kinds of + poets and such-like lusty loons have shed their last + drop of ink in the effort to describe the pleasures of + life—but it will be reserved for the disembodied spirit + of Phineas McPhail to write the great Philosophic + poem of the world’s history, which will be entitled + ‘The Pleasures of Death.’ While you’re doing + nothing, laddie, you might bestir yourself and find + an enlightened publisher who would be willing to + <a class="pagenum" id="page273" title="273"> </a>give me an ante-mortem advance, in respect of royalties + accruing to my ghost.</p> + + <p>“Mo, to whom I have read the last paragraph, says + he always knew that eddication affected the brain. + With which incontrovertible proposition and our joint + love, I now conclude this epistle.</p> + + <p class="signature">“Yours, <span class="name">Phineas</span>.”</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>“Of all the blazing imbeciles!” Doggie cried + aloud. Why the unprintable unprintableness couldn’t + Phineas mind his own business? Why had he given + his silly accident of fortune away in this childish + manner? Why had he told Jeanne of his cotton-wool + upbringing? His feet, even that of his wounded + leg, tingled to kick Phineas. Of course Jeanne, + knowing him now to be such a gilded ass, would have + nothing more to do with him. It explained her letter. + He damned Phineas to all eternity, in terms compared + with which the curse of Saint Ernulphus enunciated + by the late Mr. Shandy was a fantastic benediction. + “If I had a dog,” quoth my Uncle Toby, “I would + not curse him so.” But if Uncle Toby had heard + Doggie of the Twentieth Century Armies who also + swore terribly in Flanders, for dog he would have + substituted rattlesnake or German officer.</p> + + <p>Yet such is the quiddity of the English Tommy, + that through this devastating anathema ran a streak + of love which at the end turned the whole thing into + forlorn derision. And as soon as he could laugh, he + saw things in a clear light. Both of his two friends + were, in their respective ways, in love with his wonderful + Jeanne. Both of them were steel-true to him. + It was just part of their loyalty to foment this impossible + romance between Jeanne and himself. If the three + of them were now at Frélus, the two idiots would + <a class="pagenum" id="page274" title="274"> </a>be playing gooseberry with the smirking conscientiousness + of a pair of schoolgirls. So Doggie forgave the + indiscretion. After all, what did it matter?</p> + + <p>It mattered, however, to this extent, that he read + the letter over and over again until he knew it by + heart and could picture to himself every phase of the + banquet and every fleeting look on Jeanne’s face.</p> + + <p>“All this,” he declared at last, “is utterly ridiculous.” + And he tore up Phineas’s letter and, during + his convalescence, devoted himself to the study of + European politics, a subject which he had scandalously + neglected during his elegantly leisured youth.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">The day of his discharge came in due course. A + suit of khaki took the place of the hospital blue. He + received his papers, the seven days’ sick furlough and + his railway warrant, shook hands with nurses and + comrades and sped to Durdlebury in the third-class + carriage of the Tommy.</p> + + <p>Peggy, in the two-seater, was waiting for him in + the station yard. He exchanged greetings from afar, + grinned, waved a hand and jumped in beside her.</p> + + <p>“How jolly of you to meet me!”</p> + + <p>“Where’s your luggage?”</p> + + <p>“Luggage?”</p> + + <p>It seemed to be a new word. He had not heard it + for many months. He laughed.</p> + + <p>“Haven’t got any, thank God! If you knew + what it was to hunch a horrible canvas sausage of + kit about, you’d appreciate feeling free.”</p> + + <p>“It’s a mercy you’ve got Peddle,” said Peggy. + “He has been at the Deanery fixing things up for + you for the last two days.”</p> + + <p>“I wonder if I shall be able to live up to Peddle,” + said Doggie.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page275" title="275"> </a>“Who’s going to start the car?” she asked.</p> + + <p>“Oh, lord!” he cried, and bolted out and turned + the crank. “I’m awfully sorry,” he added, when, + the engine running, he resumed his place. “I had + forgotten all about these pretty things. Out there a + car is a sacred chariot set apart for gods in brass hats, + and the ordinary Tommy looks on them with awe + and reverence.”</p> + + <p>“Can’t you forget you’re a Tommy for a few + days?” she said, as soon as the car had cleared the + station gates and was safely under way.</p> + + <p>He noted a touch of irritation. “All right, Peggy + dear,” said he. “I’ll do what I can.”</p> + + <p>“Oliver’s here, with his man Chipmunk,” she + remarked, her eyes on the road.</p> + + <p>“Oliver? On leave again? How has he managed + it?”</p> + + <p>“You’d better ask him,” she replied tartly. “All + I know is that he turned up yesterday, and he’s staying + with us. That’s why I don’t want you to ram + the fact of your being a Tommy down everybody’s + throat.”</p> + + <p>He laughed at the queer little social problem that + seemed to be worrying her. “I think you’ll find + blood is thicker than military etiquette. After all, + Oliver’s my first cousin. If he can’t get on with + me, he can get out.” To change the conversation, + he added after a pause: “The little car’s running + splendidly.”</p> + + <p>They swept through the familiar old-world streets, + which, now that the early frenzy of mobilizing Territorials + and training of new armies was over, had + resumed more or less their pre-war appearance. The + sleepy meadows by the river, once ground into black + slush by guns and ammunition waggons and horses, + <a class="pagenum" id="page276" title="276"> </a>were now green again and idle, and the troops once + billeted on the citizens had marched heaven knows + whither—many to heaven itself—or whatever Paradise + is reserved for the great-hearted English fighting man + who has given his life for England. Only here and + there a stray soldier on leave, or one of the convalescents + from the cottage hospital, struck an incongruous note + of war. They drew up at the door of the Deanery + under the shadow of the great cathedral.</p> + + <p>“Thank God that is out of reach of the Boche,” + said Doggie, regarding it with a new sense of its + beauty and spiritual significance. “To think of it + like Rheims or Arras—I’ve seen Arras—seen a shell + burst among the still standing ruins. Oh, Peggy”—he + gripped her arm—“you dear people haven’t the + remotest conception of what it all is—what France + has suffered. Imagine this mass of wonder all one + horrible stone pie, without a trace of what it once + had been.”</p> + + <p>“I suppose we’re jolly lucky,” she replied.</p> + + <p>The door was opened by the old butler, who had + been on the alert for the arrival.</p> + + <p>“You run in,” said Peggy, “I’ll take the car round + to the yard.”</p> + + <p>So Doggie, with a smile and a word of greeting, + entered the Deanery. His uncle appeared in the hall, + florid, white-haired, benevolent, and extended both + hands to the home-come warrior.</p> + + <p>“My dear boy, how glad I am to see you. Welcome + back. And how’s the wound? We’ve thought + night and day of you. If I could have spared the + time, I should have run up north, but I’ve not a + minute to call my own. We’re doing our share of + war work here, my boy. Come into the drawing-room.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page277" title="277"> </a>He put his hand affectionately on Doggie’s arm and, + opening the drawing-room door, pushed him in and + stood, in his kind, courtly way, until the young man + had passed the threshold. Mrs. Conover, feeble from + illness, rose and kissed him, and gave him much the + same greeting as her husband. Then a tall, lean + figure in uniform, who had remained in the background + by the fireplace, advanced with outstretched hand.</p> + + <p>“Hello, old chap!”</p> + + <p>Doggie took the hand in an honest grip.</p> + + <p>“Hello, Oliver!”</p> + + <p>“How goes it?”</p> + + <p>“Splendid,” said Doggie. “You all right?”</p> + + <p>“Top-hole,” said Oliver. He clapped his cousin + on the shoulder. “My hat! you do look fit.” He + turned to the Dean. “Uncle Edward, isn’t he a + hundred times the man he was?”</p> + + <p>“I told you, my boy, you would see a difference,” + said the Dean.</p> + + <p>Peggy ran in, having delivered the two-seater to + the care of myrmidons.</p> + + <p>“Now that the affecting meeting is over, let us + have tea. Oliver, ring the bell.”</p> + + <p>The tea came. It appeared to Doggie, handing + round the three-tiered silver cake-stand, that he had + returned to some forgotten former incarnation. The + delicate china cup in his hand seemed too frail for the + material usages of life and he feared lest he should + break it with rough handling. Old habit, however, + prevailed, and no one noticed his sense of awkwardness. + The talk lay chiefly between Oliver and himself. + They exchanged experiences as to dates and localities. + They bandied about the names of places which will + be inscribed in letters of blood in history for all time, + as though they were popular golf-courses. Both had + <a class="pagenum" id="page278" title="278"> </a>known Ypres and Plug Street, and the famous wall + at Arras, where the British and German trenches + were but five yards apart. Oliver’s division had gone + down to the Somme in July for the great push.</p> + + <p>“I ought to be there now,” said Oliver. “I feel + a hulking slacker and fraud, being home on sick leave. + But the M.O. said I had just escaped shell-shock by + the skin of my nerves, and they packed me home for + a fortnight to rest up—while the regiment, what there’s + left of it, went into reserve.”</p> + + <p>“Did you get badly cut up?” asked Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Rather. We broke through all right. Then + machine guns which we had overlooked got us in + the back.”</p> + + <p>“My lot’s down there now,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“You’re well out of it, old chap,” laughed Oliver.</p> + + <p>For the first time in his life Doggie began really to + like Oliver. The old-time swashbuckling swagger + had gone—the swagger of one who would say: “I + am the only live man in this comatose crowd. I + am the dare-devil buccaneer who defies the thunder + and sleeps on boards while the rest of you are lying + soft in feather-beds.” His direct, cavalier way he + still retained; but the army, with the omnipotent + might of its inherited traditions, had moulded him + to its pattern; even as it had moulded Doggie. And + Doggie, who had learned many of the lessons in human + psychology which the army teaches, knew that Oliver’s + genial, familiar talk was not all due to his appreciation + of their social equality in the bosom of their own + family, but that he would have treated much the + same any Tommy into whose companionship he had + been casually thrown. The Tommy would have + said “sir” very scrupulously, which on Doggie’s part + would have been an idiotic thing to do; but they + <a class="pagenum" id="page279" title="279"> </a>would have got on famously together, bound by the + freemasonry of fighting men who had cursed the same + foe for the same reasons. So Oliver stood out before + Doggie’s eyes in a new light, that of the typical officer + trusted and beloved by his men, and his heart went + out to him.</p> + + <p>“I’ve brought Chipmunk over,” said Oliver. + “You remember the freak? The poor devil hasn’t + had a day’s leave for a couple of years. Didn’t want + it. Why should he go and waste money in a country + where he didn’t know a human being? But this + time I’ve fixed it up for him and his leave is coterminous + with mine. He has been my servant all + through. If they took him away from me, he’d be + quite capable of strangling the C.O. He’s a funny + beggar.”</p> + + <p>“And what kind of a soldier?” the Dean asked + politely.</p> + + <p>“There’s not a finer one in all the armies of the + earth,” said Oliver.</p> + + <p>After much further talk the dressing-gong boomed + softly through the house.</p> + + <p>“You’ve got the green room, Marmaduke,” said + Peggy. “The one with the Chippendale stuff you + used to covet so much.”</p> + + <p>“I haven’t got much to change into,” laughed + Doggie.</p> + + <p>“You’ll find Peddle up there waiting for you,” + she replied.</p> + + <p>And when Doggie entered the green room there + he found Peddle, who welcomed him with tears of + joy and a display of all the finikin luxuries of the toilet + and adornment which he had left behind at Denby + Hall. There were pots of pomade and face-cream, + and nail-polish; bottles of hair-wash and tooth-wash; + <a class="pagenum" id="page280" title="280"> </a>little boxes and brushes for the moustache, half a dozen + gleaming razors, an array of brushes and combs and + manicure-set in tortoise-shell with his crest in silver, + bottles of scent with spray attachments; the onyx + bowl of bath salts beside the hip-bath ready to be filled + from the ewers of hot and cold water—the Deanery, + old-fashioned house, had but one family bath-room; + the deep purple silk dressing-gown over the foot-rail + of the bed, the silk pyjamas in a lighter shade spread + out over the pillow, the silk underwear and soft-fronted + shirt fitted with his ruby and diamond sleeve-links, + hung up before the fire to air; the dinner jacket suit + laid out on the glass-topped Chippendale table, with + black tie and delicate handkerchief; the silk socks + carefully tucked inside out, the glossy pumps with + the silver shoe-horn laid across them.</p> + + <p>“My God! Peddle,” cried Doggie, scratching his + closely cropped head. “What the devil’s all this?”</p> + + <p>Peddle, grey, bent, uncomprehending, regarded him + blankly.</p> + + <p>“All what, sir?”</p> + + <p>“I only want to wash my hands,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“But aren’t you going to dress for dinner, sir?”</p> + + <p>“A private soldier’s not allowed to wear mufti, + Peddle. They’d dock me of a week’s pay if they + found out.”</p> + + <p>“Who’s to find out, sir?”</p> + + <p>“There’s Mr. Oliver—he’s a Major.”</p> + + <p>“Lord, Mr. Marmaduke, I don’t think he’d mind. + Miss Peggy gave me my orders, sir, and I think you + can leave things to her.”</p> + + <p>“All right, Peddle,” he laughed. “If it’s Miss + Peggy’s decree, I’ll change. I’ve got all I want.”</p> + + <p>“Are you sure you can manage, sir?” Peddle + asked anxiously, for time was when Doggie couldn’t + <a class="pagenum" id="page281" title="281"> </a>stick his legs into his trousers unless Peddle held them + out for him.</p> + + <p>“Quite,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“It seems rather roughing it here, Mr. Marmaduke, + after what you’ve been accustomed to at the Hall.”</p> + + <p>“That’s so,” said Doggie. “And it’s martyrdom + compared with what it is in the trenches. There we + always have a major-general to lace up our boots, and + a field-marshal’s always hovering round to light our + cigarettes.”</p> + + <p>Peddle, who had never known him to jest, or his + father before him, went out in a muddled frame of + mind, leaving Doggie to struggle into his dress trousers + as best he might.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XX"><a class="pagenum" id="page282" title="282"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XX</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">When</span> Doggie, in dinner suit, went downstairs, + he found Peggy alone in the drawing-room. + She gave him the kiss of one accustomed to + kiss him from childhood, and sat down again on the + fender-stool.</p> + + <p>“Now you look more like a Christian gentleman,” + she laughed. “Confess. It’s much more comfortable + than your wretched private’s uniform.”</p> + + <p>“I’m not quite so sure,” he said, somewhat ruefully, + indicating his dinner jacket tightly constricted beneath + the arms. “Already I’ve had to slit my waistcoat + down the back. Poor old Peddle will have an apoplectic + fit when he sees it. I’ve grown a bit since + these elegant rags were made for me.”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il faut souffrir pour être beau</em>,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>“If my being <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">beau</em> pleases you, Peggy, I’ll suffer + gladly. I’ve been in tighter places.” He threw + himself down in the corner of the sofa and joggled + up and down like a child. “After all,” he said, + “it’s jolly to sit on something squashy again, and to + see a pretty girl in a pretty frock.”</p> + + <p>“I’m glad you like this frock.”</p> + + <p>“New?”</p> + + <p>She nodded. “Dad said it was too much of a + Vanity Fair of a vanity for war-time. You don’t + think so, do you?”</p> + + <p>“It’s charming,” said Doggie. “A treat for tired + eyes.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page283" title="283"> </a>“That’s just what I told dad. What’s the good + of women dressing in sacks tied round the middle with + a bit of string? When men come home from the + Front they want to see their womenfolk looking pretty + and dainty. That’s what they’ve come over for. + It’s part of the cure. It’s the first time you’ve been + a real dear, Marmaduke. ‘A treat for tired eyes.’ + I’ll rub it into dad hard.”</p> + + <p>Oliver came in—in khaki. Doggie jumped up + and pointed to him.</p> + + <p>“Look here, Peggy. It’s the guard-room for me.”</p> + + <p>Oliver laughed. “Where the dinner kit I bought + when I came home is now, God only can tell.” He + turned to Peggy. “I did change, you know.”</p> + + <p>“That’s the pull of being a beastly Major,” said + Doggie. “They have heaps of suits. On the march, + there are motor-lorries full of them. It’s the scandal + of the army. The wretched Tommy has but one + suit to his name. That’s why, sir, I’ve taken the + liberty of appearing before you in outgrown mufti.”</p> + + <p>“All right, my man,” said Oliver. “We’ll hush + it up and say no more about it.”</p> + + <p>Then the Dean and Mrs. Conover entered and + soon they went in to dinner. It was for Doggie the + most pleasant of meals. He had the superbly + healthy man’s whole-hearted or whole-stomached + appreciation of unaccustomed good food and drink: + so much so, that when the Dean, after agonies of + thwarted mastication, said gently to his wife: “My + dear, don’t you think you might speak a word in + season to Peck”—Peck being the butcher—“and + forbid him, under the Defence of the Realm Act, if + you like, to deliver to us in the evening as lamb that + which was in the morning a lusty sheep?” he stared + at the good old man as though he were Vitellius in + <a class="pagenum" id="page284" title="284"> </a>person. Tough? It was like milk-fatted baby. He + was already devouring, like Oliver, his second helping. + Then the Dean, pledging him and Oliver in + champagne, apologized: “I’m sorry, my dear boys, + the 1904 has run out and there’s no more to be got. + But the 1906, though not having the quality, is + quite drinkable.”</p> + + <p>Drinkable! It was laughing, dancing joy that + went down his throat.</p> + + <p>So much for gross delights. There were others—finer. + The charm to the eye of the table with its + exquisite napery and china and glass and silver and + flowers. The almost intoxicating atmosphere of peace + and gentle living. The full, loving welcome shining + from the eyes of the kind old Dean, his uncle by + marriage, and of the faded, delicate lady, his own flesh + and blood, his mother’s sister. And Peggy, pretty, + flushed, bright-eyed, radiant in her new dress. And + there was Oliver….</p> + + <p>Most of all he appreciated Oliver’s comrade-like + attitude. It was a recognition of him as a man and + a soldier. In the course of dinner talk Oliver said:</p> + + <p>“J.M.T. and I have looked Death in the face many + a time—and really he’s a poor raw-head and bloody-bones + sort of Bogey; don’t you think so, old chap?”</p> + + <p>“It all depends on whether you’ve got a funk-hole + handy,” he replied.</p> + + <p>But that was mere lightness of speech. Oliver’s + inclusion of him in his remark shook him to the depths + of his sensitive nature. The man who despises the + petty feelings and frailties of mankind is doomed to + remain in awful ignorance of that which there is of + beauty and pathos in the lives of his fellow-creatures. + After all, what did it matter what Oliver thought of + him? Who was Oliver? His cousin—accident of + <a class="pagenum" id="page285" title="285"> </a>birth—the black sheep of the family; now a major + in a different regiment and a different division. What + was Oliver to him or he to Oliver? He had “made + good” in the eyes of one whose judgment had been + forged keen and absolute by heroic sorrows. What + did anyone else matter? But to Doggie the supreme + joy of the evening was the knowledge that he had + made good in the eyes of Oliver. Oliver wore on + his tunic the white mauve and white ribbon of the + Military Cross. Honour where honour was due. + But he, Doggie, had been wounded (no matter how) + and Oliver frankly put them both on the same plane + of achievement, thus wiping away, with generous hand, + all hated memories of the past.</p> + + <p>When the ladies had left the room, history repeated + itself, in that the Dean was called away on business + and the cousins were left alone together over their + wine. Said Doggie:</p> + + <p>“Do you remember the last time we sat at this + table?”</p> + + <p>“Perfectly,” replied Oliver, holding up a glass of + the old Deanery port to the light. “You were + horrified at my attempting to clean out my pipe with + a dessert knife.”</p> + + <p>Doggie laughed. “After all, it was a filthy thing + to do.”</p> + + <p>“I quite agree with you. Since then I’ve learned + manners.”</p> + + <p>“You also made me squirm at the idea of scooping + out Boches’ insides with bayonets.”</p> + + <p>“And you’ve learned not to squirm, so we’re quits.”</p> + + <p>“You thought me a rotten ass in those days, didn’t + you?”</p> + + <p>Oliver looked at him squarely.</p> + + <p>“I don’t think it would hurt you now if I said + <a class="pagenum" id="page286" title="286"> </a>that I did.” He laughed, stretched himself on his + chair, thrusting both hands into his trouser pockets. + “In many ways, it’s a jolly good old war, you know—for + those that pull through. It has taught us both + a lot, Marmaduke.”</p> + + <p>Doggie wrinkled his forehead in his half-humorous + way.</p> + + <p>“I wish it would teach people not to call me by + that silly name.”</p> + + <p>“I have always abominated it, as you may have + observed,” said Oliver. “But in our present polite + relations, old chap, what else is there?”</p> + + <p>“You ought to know——”</p> + + <p>Oliver stared at him. “You don’t mean——?”</p> + + <p>“Yes, I do.”</p> + + <p>“But you used to loathe it and I went on calling + you ‘Doggie’ because I knew you loathed it. I + never dreamed of using it now.”</p> + + <p>“I can’t help it,” replied Doggie. “The name + got into the army and has stuck to me right through, + and now those I love and trust most in the world, + and who love and trust me, call me ‘Doggie,’ and I + don’t seem to be able to answer to any other name. + So, although I’m only a Tommy and you’re a devil + of a swell of a second-in-command, yet if you want to + be friendly—well——”</p> + + <p>Oliver leaned forward quickly. “Of course I + want to be friends, Doggie, old chap. As for major + and private—when you pass me in the street you’ve + dam well got to salute me, and that’s all there is to + it—but otherwise it’s all rot. And now we’ve got + to the heart-to-heart stage, don’t you think you’re a + bit of a fool?”</p> + + <p>“I know it,” said Doggie cheerfully. “The army + has drummed that into me, at any rate.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page287" title="287"> </a>“I mean in staying in the ranks. Why don’t + you apply for the Cadet Corps and so get through to + a commission again?”</p> + + <p>Doggie’s brow grew dark. “I had all that out + with Peggy long ago—when things were perhaps + somewhat different with me. I was sore all over. + I dare say you can understand. But now there are + other reasons, much stronger reasons. The only + real happiness I’ve had in my life has been as a Tommy. + I’m not talking through my hat. The only real + friends I’ve ever made in my life are Tommies. I’ve + found real things as a Tommy and I’m not going to + start all over again to find them in another capacity.”</p> + + <p>“You wouldn’t have to start all over again,” + Oliver objected.</p> + + <p>“Oh yes, I should. Don’t run away with the idea + that I’ve been turned by a miracle into a brawny + hero. I’m not anything of the sort. To have to + lead men into action would be a holy terror. The old + dread of seeking new paths still acts, you see. I’m + the same Doggie that wouldn’t go out to Huaheine + with you. Only now I’m a private and I’m used to + it. I love it and I’m not going to change to the end + of the whole gory business. Of course Peggy doesn’t + like it,” he added after a sip of wine. “But I can’t + help that. It’s a matter of temperament and conscience—in + a way, a matter of honour.”</p> + + <p>“What has honour got to do with it?” asked Oliver.</p> + + <p>“I’ll try to explain. It’s somehow this way. + When I came to my senses after being chucked for + incompetence—that was the worst hell I ever went + through in my life—and I enlisted, I swore that I + would stick it as a Tommy without anybody’s sympathy, + least of all that of the folks here. And then + I swore I’d make good to myself as a Tommy. I + <a class="pagenum" id="page288" title="288"> </a>was just beginning to feel happier when that infernal + Boche sniper knocked me out for a time. So, Peggy + or no Peggy, I’m going through with it. I suppose + I’m telling you all this because I should like you to + know.”</p> + + <p>He passed his hand, in the familiar gesture, from back + to front of his short-cropped hair. Oliver smiled + at the reminiscence of the old disturbed Doggie; + but he said very gravely:</p> + + <p>“I’m glad you’ve told me, old man. I appreciate + it very much. I’ve been through the ranks myself + and know what it is—the bad and the good. Many a + man has found his soul that way——”</p> + + <p>“Good God!” cried Doggie, starting to his feet. + “Do you say that too?”</p> + + <p>“Who else said it?”</p> + + <p>The quick question caused the blood to rush to + Doggie’s face. Oliver’s keen, half-mocking gaze + held him. He cursed himself for an impulsive idiot. + The true answer to the question would be a confession + of Jeanne. The scene in the kitchen of Frélus swam + before his eyes. He dropped into his chair again + with a laugh.</p> + + <p>“Oh, some one out there—in another heart-to-heart + talk. As a matter of fact, I think I said it + myself. It’s odd you should have used the same words. + Anyhow, you’re the only other person who has hit on + the truth as far as I’m concerned. Finding one’s soul + is a bit high-falutin—but that’s about the size of it.”</p> + + <p>“Peggy hasn’t hit on the truth, then?” Oliver + asked, with curious earnestness, the shade of mockery + gone.</p> + + <p>“The war has scarcely touched her yet, you see,” + said Doggie. He rose, shrinking from discussion. + “Shall we go in?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page289" title="289"> </a>In the drawing-room they played bridge till the + ladies’ bedtime. The Dean coming in, played the + last rubber.</p> + + <p>“I hope you’ll be able to sleep in a common or + garden bed, Marmaduke,” said Peggy, and kissed him + a perfunctory good night.</p> + + <p>“I have heard,” remarked the Dean, “that it takes + quite a time to grow accustomed to the little amenities + of civilization.”</p> + + <p>“That’s quite true, Uncle Edward,” laughed + Doggie. “I’m terrified at the thought of the silk + pyjamas Peddle has prescribed for me.”</p> + + <p>“Why?” Peggy asked bluntly.</p> + + <p>Oliver interposed laughing, his hand on Doggie’s + shoulder.</p> + + <p>“Tommy’s accustomed to go to bed in his day-shirt.”</p> + + <p>“How perfectly disgusting!” cried Peggy, and + swept from the room.</p> + + <p>Oliver dropped his hand and looked somewhat + abashed.</p> + + <p>“I’m afraid I’ve been and gone and done it. I’m + sorry. I’m still a barbarian South Sea Islander.”</p> + + <p>“I wish I were a young man,” said the Dean, + moving from the door and inviting them to sit, “and + could take part in these strange hardships. This + question of night attire, for instance, has never struck + me before. The whole thing is of amazing interest. + Ah! what it is to be old! If I were young, I should + be with you, cloth or no cloth, in the trenches. I + hope both of you know that I vehemently dissent from + those bishops who prohibit the younger clergy from + taking their place in the fighting line. If God’s + archangels and angels themselves took up the sword + against the Powers of Darkness, surely a stalwart + <a class="pagenum" id="page290" title="290"> </a>young curate of the Church of England would find + his vocation in warring with rifle and bayonet against + the proclaimed enemies of God and mankind?”</p> + + <p>“The influence of the twenty thousand or so of + priests fighting in the French Army is said to be + enormous,” Oliver remarked.</p> + + <p>The Dean sighed. “I’m afraid we’re losing a + big chance.”</p> + + <p>“Why don’t you take up the Fiery Cross, Uncle + Edward, and run a new Crusade?”</p> + + <p>The Dean sighed. Five-and-thirty years ago, + when he had set all Durdlebury by the ears, he might + have preached glorious heresy and heroic schism; + but now the immutability of the great grey fabric + had become part of his being.</p> + + <p>“I’ve done my best, my boy,” he replied, “with the + result that I am held in high disfavour.”</p> + + <p>“But that doesn’t matter a little bit.”</p> + + <p>“Not a little bit,” said the Dean. “A man can + only do his duty according to the dictates of his conscience. + I have publicly deplored the attitude of the + Church of England. I have written to <cite>The Times</cite>. + I have published a pamphlet—I sent you each a copy—which + has brought a hornets’ nest about my ears. + I have warned those in high places that what they are + doing is not in the best interests of the Church. But + they won’t listen.”</p> + + <p>Oliver lit a pipe. “I’m afraid, Uncle Edward,” + he said, “that though I come of a clerical family, I + know no more of religion than a Hun bishop; but + it has always struck me that the Church’s job is to + look after the people, whereas, as far as I can make + out, the Church is now squealing because the people + won’t look after the Church.”</p> + + <p>The Dean rose. “I won’t go as far as that,” said + <a class="pagenum" id="page291" title="291"> </a>he with a smile. “But there is, I fear, some justification + for such a criticism from the laity. As soon + as the war began the Church should have gathered the + people together and said, ‘Onward, Christian soldiers. + Go and fight like—er——’”</p> + + <p>“Like hell,” suggested Oliver, greatly daring.</p> + + <p>“Or words to that effect,” smiled the old Dean. + He looked at his watch. “Dear, dear! past eleven. + I wish I could sit up talking to you boys. But I + start my day’s work at eight o’clock. If you want + anything, you’ve only got to ring. Good night. + It is one of the proudest days of my life to have you + both here together.”</p> + + <p>His courtly charm seemed to linger in the room + after he had left.</p> + + <p>“He’s a dear old chap,” said Oliver.</p> + + <p>“One of the best,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“It’s rather pathetic,” said Oliver. “In his heart + he would like to play the devil with the bishops and + kick every able-bodied parson into the trenches—and + there are thousands of them that don’t need any + kicking and, on the contrary, have been kicked back; + but he has become half-petrified in the atmosphere of + this place. It’s lovely to come to as a sort of funk-hole + of peace—but my holy aunt!—What the blazes + are you laughing at?”</p> + + <p>“I’m only thinking of a beast of a boy here who + used to say that,” replied Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Oh!” said Oliver, and he grinned. “Anyway, + I was only going to remark that if I thought I was + going to spend the rest of my life here, I’d paint + the town vermilion for a week and then cut my + throat.”</p> + + <p>“I quite agree with you,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“What are you going to do when the war’s over?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page292" title="292"> </a>“Who knows what he’s going to do? What are + you going to do? Fly back to your little Robinson + Crusoe Durdlebury of a Pacific Island? I don’t + think so.”</p> + + <p>Oliver stuck his pipe on the mantelpiece and his + hands on his hips and made a stride towards Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Damn you, Doggie! Damn you to little bits! + How the Hades did you guess what I’ve scarcely + told myself, much less another human being?”</p> + + <p>“You yourself said it was a good old war and it has + taught us a lot of things.”</p> + + <p>“It has,” said Oliver. “But I never expected to + hear Huaheine called Durdlebury by you, Doggie. + Oh, Lord! I must have another drink. Where’s + your glass? Say when?”</p> + + <p>They parted for the night the best of friends.</p> + + <p>Doggie, in spite of the silk pyjamas and the soft bed + and the blazing fire in his room—he stripped back the + light-excluding curtains forgetful of Defence of the + Realm Acts, and opened all the windows wide, to the + horror of Peddle in the morning—slept like an unperturbed + dormouse. When Peddle woke him, he lay + drowsily while the old butler filled his bath and fiddled + about with drawers. At last aroused, he cried out:</p> + + <p>“What the dickens are you doing?”</p> + + <p>Peddle turned with an injured air. “I am matching + your ties and socks for your bottle-green suit, sir.”</p> + + <p>Doggie leaped out of bed. “You dear old idiot, I + can’t go about the streets in bottle-green suits. I’ve + got to wear my uniform.” He looked around the + room. “Where the devil is it?”</p> + + <p>Peddle’s injured air deepened almost into resentment.</p> + + <p>“Where the devil——!” Never had Mr. Marmaduke, + or his father, the Canon, used such language. + He drew himself up.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page293" title="293"> </a>“I have given orders, sir, for the uniform suit you + wore yesterday to be sent to the cleaners.”</p> + + <p>“Oh, hell!” said Doggie. And Peddle, unaccustomed + to the vernacular of the British Army, + paled with horror. “Oh, hell!” said Doggie. + “Look here, Peddle, just you get on a bicycle, or a + motor-car, or an express train at once and retrieve + that uniform. Don’t you understand? I’m a private + soldier. I’ve got to wear uniform all the time, and + I’ll have to stay in this beastly bed until you get it + for me.”</p> + + <p>Peddle fled. The picture that he left on Doggie’s + mind was that of the faithful steward with dismayed, + uplifted hands, retiring from the room in one of the + great scenes of Hogarth’s “Rake’s Progress.” The + similitude made him laugh—for Doggie always had + a saving sense of humour—but he was very angry + with Peddle, while he stamped around the room in his + silk pyjamas. What the deuce was he going to do? + Even if he committed the military crime (and there + was a far more serious crime already against him) + of appearing in public in mufti, did that old ass think + he was going to swagger about Durdlebury in bottle-green + suits, as though he were ashamed of the King’s + uniform? He dipped his shaving-brush into the + hot water. Then he threw it, anyhow, across the + room. Instead of shaving, he would be gloating + over the idea of cutting that old fool, Peddle’s, throat, + and therefore would slash his own face to bits.</p> + + <p>Things, however, were not done at lightning speed + in the Deanery of Durdlebury. The first steps had + not even been taken to send the uniform to the cleaners, + and soon Peddle reappeared carrying it over his arm + and the heavy pair of munition boots in his hand.</p> + + <p>“These too, sir?” he asked, exhibiting the latter + <a class="pagenum" id="page294" title="294"> </a>resignedly and casting a sad glance at the neat pair + of brown shoes exquisitely polished and beautifully + treed which he had put out for his master’s wear.</p> + + <p>“These too,” said Doggie. “And where’s my + grey flannel shirt?”</p> + + <p>This time Peddle triumphed. “I’ve given that + away, sir, to the gardener’s boy.”</p> + + <p>“Well, you can just go and buy me half a dozen + more like it,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>He dismissed the old man, dressed and went downstairs. + The Dean had breakfasted at seven. Peggy + and Oliver were not yet down for the nine o’clock + meal. Doggie strolled about the garden and sauntered + round to the stable-yard. There he encountered + Chipmunk in his shirt-sleeves, sitting on a packing + case and polishing Oliver’s leggings. He raised an + ugly, clean-shaven mug and scowled beneath his + bushy eyebrows at the new-comer.</p> + + <p>“Morning, mate!” said Doggie pleasantly.</p> + + <p>“Morning,” said Chipmunk, resuming his work.</p> + + <p>Doggie turned over a stable bucket and sat down on + it and lit a cigarette.</p> + + <p>“Glad to be back?”</p> + + <p>Chipmunk poised the cloth on which he had poured + some brown dressing. “Not if I has to be worried + with private soljers,” he replied. “I came ’ere to + get away from ’em.”</p> + + <p>“What’s wrong with private soldiers? They’re + good enough for you, aren’t they?” asked Doggie + with a laugh.</p> + + <p>“Naow,” snarled Chipmunk. “Especially when + they ought to be orficers. Go to ’ell!”</p> + + <p>Doggie, who had suffered much in the army, but + had never before been taunted with being a dilettante + gentleman private, still less been consigned to hell on + <a class="pagenum" id="page295" title="295"> </a>that account, leapt to his feet shaken by one of his + rare sudden gusts of anger.</p> + + <p>“If you don’t say I’m as good a private soldier as + any in your rotten, mangy regiment, I’ll knock your + blinking head off!”</p> + + <p>An insult to a soldier’s regiment can only be wiped + out in blood. Chipmunk threw cloth and legging to + the winds and, springing from his seat like a monkey, + went for Doggie.</p> + + <p>“You just try.”</p> + + <p>Doggie tried, and had not Chipmunk’s head been + very firmly secured to his shoulders, he would have + succeeded. Chipmunk went down as if he had been + bombed. It was his unguarded and unscientific rush + that did it. Doggie regarded his prostrate figure in + gratified surprise.</p> + + <p>“What’s all this about?” cried a sharp, imperious + voice.</p> + + <p>Doggie instinctively stood at attention and saluted, + and Chipmunk, picking himself up in a dazed sort of + way, did likewise.</p> + + <p>“You two men shake hands and make friends at + once,” Oliver commanded.</p> + + <p>“Yes, sir,” said Doggie. He extended his hand, + and Chipmunk, with the nautical shamble, which in + moments of stress defied a couple of years’ military + discipline, advanced and shook it. Oliver strode + hurriedly away.</p> + + <p>“I’m sorry I said that about the regiment, mate. + I didn’t mean it,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>Chipmunk looked uncertainly into Doggie’s eyes + for what Doggie felt to be a very long time. Chipmunk’s + dull brain was slowly realizing the situation. + The man opposite to him was his master’s cousin. + When he had last seen him, he had no title to be called + <a class="pagenum" id="page296" title="296"> </a>a man at all. His vocabulary volcanically rich, but + otherwise limited, had not been able to express him + in adequate terms of contempt and derision. Now + behold him masquerading as a private. Wounded. + But any fool could get wounded. Behold him further + coming down from the social heights whereon his + master dwelt, to take a rise out of him, Chipmunk. + In self-defence he had taken the obvious course. He + had told him to go to hell. Then the important things + had happened. Not the effeminate gentleman but + some one very much like the common Tommy of his + acquaintance had responded. And he had further + responded with the familiar vigour but unwonted + science of the rank and file. He had also stood at + attention and saluted and obeyed like any common + Tommy, when the Major appeared. The last fact + appealed to him, perhaps, as much as the one more + invested in violence.</p> + + <p>“’Ere,” said he at last, jerking his head and rubbing + his jaw, “how the ’ell did you do it?”</p> + + <p>“We’ll get some gloves and I’ll show you,” said + Doggie.</p> + + <p>So peace and firm friendship were made. Doggie + went into the house and in the dining-room found + Oliver in convulsive laughter.</p> + + <p>“Oh, my holy aunt! You’ll be the death of me, + Doggie. ‘Yes, sir!’” He mimicked him. “The + perfect Tommy. After doing in old Chipmunk. + Chipmunk with the strength of a gorilla and the + courage of a lion. I just happened round to see + him go down. How the blazes did you manage it, + Doggie?”</p> + + <p>“That’s what Chipmunk’s just asked me,” Doggie + replied. “I belong to a regiment where boxing is + taught. Really a good regiment,” he grinned. + <a class="pagenum" id="page297" title="297"> </a>“There’s a sergeant-instructor, a chap called Ballinghall——”</p> + + <p>“Not Joe Ballinghall, the well-known amateur + heavy-weight?”</p> + + <p>“That’s him right enough,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“My dear old chap,” said Oliver, “this is the funniest + war that ever was.”</p> + + <p>Peggy sailed in full of apologies and began to pour + out coffee.</p> + + <p>“Do help yourselves. I’m so sorry to have kept + you poor hungry things waiting.”</p> + + <p>“We’ve filled up the time amazingly,” cried Oliver, + waving a silver dish-cover. “What do you think? + Doggie’s had a fight with Chipmunk and knocked + him out.”</p> + + <p>Peggy splashed the milk over the brim of Doggie’s + cup and into the saucer. There came a sudden + flush on her cheek and a sudden hard look into her + eyes.</p> + + <p>“Fighting? Do you mean to say you’ve been + fighting with a common man like Chipmunk?”</p> + + <p>“We’re the best of friends now,” said Doggie. + “We understand each other.”</p> + + <p>“I can’t quite see the necessity,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>“I’m afraid it’s rather hard to explain,” he replied + with a rueful knitting of the brows, for he realized + her disgust at the vulgar brawl.</p> + + <p>“I think the less said the better,” she remarked + acidly.</p> + + <p>The meal proceeded in ominous gloom, and as soon + as Peggy had finished she left the room.</p> + + <p>“It seems, old chap, that I can never do right,” + said Oliver. “Long ago, when I used to crab you, + she gave it to me in the neck; and now when I try + to boost you, you seem to get it.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page298" title="298"> </a>“I’m afraid I’ve got on Peggy’s nerves,” said + Doggie. “You see, we’ve only met once before + during the last two years, and I suppose I’ve changed.”</p> + + <p>“There’s no doubt about that, old son,” said Oliver. + “But all the same, Peggy has stood by you like a brick, + hasn’t she?”</p> + + <p>“That’s the devil of it,” replied Doggie, rubbing + up his hair.</p> + + <p>“Why the devil of it?” Oliver asked quickly.</p> + + <p>“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Doggie. “As you + have once or twice observed, it’s a funny old war.”</p> + + <p>He rose, went to the door.</p> + + <p>“Where are you off to?” asked Oliver.</p> + + <p>“I’m going to Denby Hall to take a look round.”</p> + + <p>“Like me to come with you? We can borrow + the two-seater.”</p> + + <p>Doggie advanced a pace. “You’re an awfully + good sort, Oliver,” he said, touched, “but would you + mind—I feel rather a beast——”</p> + + <p>“All right, you silly old ass,” cried Oliver cheerily. + “You want, of course, to root about there by yourself. + Go ahead.”</p> + + <p>“If you’ll take a spin with me this afternoon, or + to-morrow——” said Doggie in his sensitive way.</p> + + <p>“Oh, clear out!” laughed Oliver.</p> + + <p>And Doggie cleared.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XXI"><a class="pagenum" id="page299" title="299"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XXI</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">“All</span> right, Peddle, I can find my way about,” + said Doggie, dismissing the old butler and + his wife after a little colloquy in the hall.</p> + + <p>“Everything’s in perfect order, sir, just as it was + when you left; and there are the keys,” said Mrs. + Peddle.</p> + + <p>The Peddles retired. Doggie eyed the heavy + bunch of keys with an air of distaste. For two years + he had not seen a key. What on earth could be the + good of all this locking and unlocking? He stuffed + the bunch in his tunic pocket and looked around + him. It seemed difficult to realize that everything + he saw was his own. Those trees visible from the + hall windows were his own, and the land on which + they grew. This spacious, beautiful house was his + own. He had only to wave a hand, as it were, and + it would be filled with serving men and serving maids + ready to do his bidding. His foot was on his native + heath, and his name was James Marmaduke Trevor.</p> + + <p>Did he ever actually live here, have his being + here? Was he ever part and parcel of it all—the + Oriental rugs, the soft stair-carpet on the noble oak + staircase leading to the gallery, the oil paintings, the + impressive statuary, the solid, historical, oak hall + furniture? Were it not so acutely remembered, he + would have felt like a man accustomed all his life + to barns and tents and hedgerows and fetid holes in + the ground, who had wandered into some ill-guarded + <a class="pagenum" id="page300" title="300"> </a>palace. He entered the drawing-room. The faithful + Peddles, with pathetic zeal to give him a true + home-coming, had set it out fresh and clean and + polished; the windows were like crystal, and flowers + welcomed him from every available vase. And so + in the dining-room. The Chippendale dining-table + gleamed like a sombre translucent pool. On the + sideboard, amid the array of shining silver, the very + best old Waterford decanters filled with whisky and + brandy, and old cut-glass goblets invited him to refreshment. + The precious mezzotint portraits, mostly of + his own collecting, regarded him urbanely from the + walls. <cite>The Times</cite> and the <cite>Morning Post</cite> were laid out + on the little table by his accustomed chair near the + massive marble mantelpiece.</p> + + <p>“The dear old idiots,” said Doggie, and he sat down + for a moment and unfolded the newspapers and + strewed them around, to give the impression that he + had read and enjoyed them.</p> + + <p>And then he went into his own private and particular + den, the peacock and ivory room, which had been + the supreme expression of himself and for which he + had ached during many nights of misery. He looked + round and his heart sank. He seemed to come + face to face with the ineffectual, effeminate creature + who had brought upon him the disgrace of his man’s + life. But for the creator and sybarite enjoyer of this + sickening boudoir, he would now be in honoured + command of men. He conceived a sudden violent + hatred of the room. The only thing in the place + worth a man’s consideration, save a few water-colours, + was the honest grand piano, which, because it did not + æsthetically harmonize with his squeaky, pot-bellied + theorbos and tinkling spinet, he had hidden in an + alcove behind a curtain. He turned an eye of disgust + <a class="pagenum" id="page301" title="301"> </a>on the vellum backs of his books in the closed Chippendale + cases, on the drawers containing his collection + of wall-papers, on the footling peacocks, on the + curtains and cushions, on the veined ivory paper which, + beginning to fade two years ago, now looked mean and + meaningless. It was an abominable room. It ought + to be smelling of musk or pastilles or joss-sticks. It + might have done so, for once he had tried something + of the sort, and did not renew the experiment only + because the smell happened to make him sick.</p> + + <p>There was one feature of the room at which for + a long time he avoided looking: but wherever he + turned, it impressed itself on his consciousness as the + miserable genius of the despicable place. And that + was his collection of little china dogs.</p> + + <p>At last he planted himself in front of the great + glass cabinet, whence thousands of little dogs looked + at him out of little black dots of eyes. There were + dogs of all nationalities, all breeds, all twisted enormities + of human invention. There were monstrous + dogs of China and Japan; Aztec dogs; dogs in Sèvres + and Dresden and Chelsea; sixpenny dogs from Austria + and Switzerland; everything in the way of a + little dog that man had made. He stood in front + of it with almost a doggish snarl on his lips. He had + spent hundreds and hundreds of pounds over these + futile dogs. Yet never a flesh and blood, real, lusty + <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">canis futilis</em> had he possessed. He used to dislike + real dogs. The shivering rat, Goliath, could scarcely + be called a dog. He had wasted his heart over these + contemptible counterfeits. To add to his collection, + catalogue it, describe it, correspond about it with the + semi-imbecile Russian prince, his only rival collector, + had once ranked with his history of wall-papers as + the serious and absorbing pursuit of his life.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page302" title="302"> </a>Then suddenly Doggie’s hatred reached the crisis + of ferocity. He saw red. He seized the first instrument + of destruction that came to his hand, a little gilt + Louis XV music stool, and bashed the cabinet full + in front. The glass flew into a thousand splinters. + He bashed again. The woodwork of the cabinet, + stoutly resisting, worked hideous damage on the gilt + stool. But Doggie went on bashing till the cabinet + sank in ruins and the little dogs, headless, tailless, + rent in twain, strewed the floor. Then Doggie + stamped on them with his heavy munition boots + until dogs and glass were reduced to powder and the + Aubusson carpet was cut to pieces.</p> + + <p>“Damn the whole infernal place!” cried Doggie, + and he heaved a mandolin tied up with disgusting + peacock-blue ribbons at the bookcase, and fled from + the room.</p> + + <p>He stood for a while in the hall, shaken with his + anger; then mounted the staircase and went into his + own bedroom with the satinwood furniture and nattier + blue hangings. God! what a bedchamber for a + man! He would have liked to throw bombs into the + nest of effeminacy. But his mother had arranged + it, so in a way it was immune from his iconoclastic + rage. He went down to the dining-room, helped + himself to a whisky and soda from the sideboard, and + sat down in the arm-chair amidst the scattered newspapers + and held his head in his hands and thought.</p> + + <p>The house was hateful; all its associations were + hateful. If he lived there until he was ninety, the + abhorred ghost of the pre-war little Doggie Trevor + would always haunt every nook and cranny of the + place, mouthing the quarter of a century’s shame that + had culminated in the Great Disgrace. At last he + brought his hand down with a bang on the arm of his + <a class="pagenum" id="page303" title="303"> </a>chair. He would never live in this House of Dishonour + again. Never. He would sell it.</p> + + <p>“By God!” he cried, starting to his feet, as the + inspiration came.</p> + + <p>He would sell it, as it stood, lock, stock and barrel, + with everything in it. He would wipe out at one + stroke the whole of his unedifying history. Denby + Hall gone, what could tie him to Durdlebury? He + would be freed, for ever, from the petrification of the + grey, cramping little city. If Peggy didn’t like it, + that was Peggy’s affair. In material things he was + master of his destiny. Peggy would have to follow + him in his career, whatever it was, not he Peggy. + He saw clearly that which had been mapped out for + him, the silly little social ambitions, the useless existence, + little Doggie Trevor for ever trailing obediently + behind the lady of Denby Hall. Doggie threw himself + back in his chair and laughed. No one had ever + heard him laugh like that. After a while he was + even surprised at himself.</p> + + <p>He was perfectly ready to marry Peggy. It was + almost a preordained thing. A rupture of the + engagement was unthinkable. Her undeviating + loyalty bound him by every fibre of gratitude and + honour. But it was essential that Peggy should + know whom and what she was marrying. The + Doggie trailing in her wake no longer existed. If + she were prepared to follow the new Doggie, well + and good. If not, there would be conflict. For that + he was prepared.</p> + + <p>He strode, this time contemptuously, into his + wrecked peacock and ivory room, where his telephone + (blatant and hideous thing) was ingeniously concealed + behind a screen, and rang up Spooner and Smithson, + the leading firm of auctioneers and estate agents in + <a class="pagenum" id="page304" title="304"> </a>the town. At the mention of his name, Mr. Spooner, + the senior partner, came to the telephone.</p> + + <p>“Yes, I’m back, Mr. Spooner, and I’m quite + well,” said Doggie. “I want to see you on very + important business. When can you fix it up? Any + time? Can you come along now to Denby Hall?”</p> + + <p>Mr. Spooner would be pleased to wait upon Mr. + Trevor immediately. He would start at once. Doggie + went out and sat on the front doorstep and smoked + cigarettes till he came.</p> + + <p>“Mr. Spooner,” said he, as soon as the elderly + auctioneer descended from his little car, “I’m + going to sell the whole of the Denby Hall estate, and, + with the exception of a few odds and ends, family + relics and so forth, which I’ll pick out, all the contents + of the house—furniture, pictures, sheets, towels and + kitchen clutter. I’ve only got six days’ leave, and I + want all the worries, as far as I am concerned, settled + and done with before I go. So you’ll have to buck + up, Mr. Spooner. If you say you can’t do it, I’ll + put the business by telephone into the hands of a + London agent.”</p> + + <p>It took Mr. Spooner nearly a quarter of an hour + to recover his breath, gain a grasp of the situation and + assemble his business wits.</p> + + <p>“Of course I’ll carry out your instructions, Mr. + Trevor,” he said at last. “You can safely leave the + matter in our hands. But, although it is against my + business interests, pray let me beg you to reconsider + your decision. It is such a beautiful home, your + grandfather, the Bishop’s, before you.”</p> + + <p>“He bought it pretty cheap, didn’t he, somewhere + in the ’seventies?”</p> + + <p>“I forget the price he paid for it, but I could look + it up. Of course we were the agents.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page305" title="305"> </a>“And then it was let to some dismal people until + my father died and my mother took it over. I’m + sorry I can’t get sentimental about it, as if it were an + ancestral hall, Mr. Spooner. I want to get rid of + the place, because I hate the sight of it.”</p> + + <p>“It would be presumptuous of me to say anything + more,” answered the old-fashioned country auctioneer.</p> + + <p>“Say what you like, Mr. Spooner,” laughed Doggie + in his disarming way. “We’re old friends. But + send in your people this afternoon to start on inventories + and measuring up, or whatever they do, and I’ll + look round to-morrow and select the bits I may want + to keep. You’ll see after the storing of them, won’t + you?”</p> + + <p>“Of course, Mr. Trevor.”</p> + + <p>Mr. Spooner drove away in his little car, a much + dazed man.</p> + + <p>Like the rest of Durdlebury and the circumjacent + county, he had assumed that when the war was over + Mr. James Marmaduke Trevor would lead his bride + from the Deanery into Denby Hall, where the latter, + in her own words, would proceed to make things + hum.</p> + + <p>“My dear,” said he to his wife at luncheon, “you + could have knocked me over with a feather. What + he’s doing it for, goodness knows. I can only assume + that he has grown so accustomed to the destruction + of property in France, that he has got bitten by the + fever.”</p> + + <p>“Perhaps Peggy Conover has turned him down,” + suggested his wife, who, much younger than he, + employed more modern turns of speech. “And I + shouldn’t wonder if she has. Since the war girls + aren’t on the look out for pretty monkeys.”</p> + + <p>“If Miss Conover thinks she has got hold of a + <a class="pagenum" id="page306" title="306"> </a>pretty monkey in that young man, she is very much + mistaken,” replied Mr. Spooner.</p> + + <p>Meanwhile Doggie summoned Peddle to the hall. + He knew that his announcement would be a blow to + the old man; but this was a world of blows; and + after all, one could not organize one’s life to suit the + sentiments of old family idiots of retainers, served they + never so faithfully.</p> + + <p>“Peddle,” said he, “I’m sorry to say I’m going + to sell Denby Hall. Messrs. Spooner and Smithson’s + people are coming in this afternoon. So give them + every facility. Also tea, or beer, or whisky, or whatever + they want. About what’s going to happen to + you and Mrs. Peddle, don’t worry a bit. I’ll look + after that. You’ve been jolly good friends of mine + all my life, and I’ll see that everything’s as right as + rain.”</p> + + <p>He turned, before the amazed old butler could + reply, and marched away. Peddle gaped at his + retreating figure. If those were the ways which + Mr. Marmaduke had learned in the army, the lower + sank the army in Peddle’s estimation. To sell + Denby Hall over his head! Why, the place and all + about it was <em>his</em>! So deeply are squatters’ rights + implanted in the human instinct.</p> + + <p>Doggie marched along the familiar high road, + strangely exhilarated. What was to be his future + he neither knew nor cared. At any rate, it would + not lie in Durdlebury. He had cut out Durdlebury + for ever from his scheme of existence. If he got + through the war, he and Peggy would go out somewhere + into the great world where there was man’s + work to do. Parliament! Peggy had suggested it + as a sort of country gentleman’s hobby that would + keep him amused during the London seasons—so + <a class="pagenum" id="page307" title="307"> </a>might prospective bride have talked to prospective + husband fifty years ago. Parliament! God help + him and God help Peggy if ever he got into Parliament. + He would speak the most unpopular truths + about the race of politicians if ever he got into Parliament. + Peggy would wish that neither of them had + ever been born. He held the trenches’ views on + politicians. No fear. No muddy politics as an + elegant amusement for him. He laughed as he had + laughed in the dining-room at Denby Hall.</p> + + <p>He would have a bad quarter of an hour with + Peggy. Naturally. She would say, and with every + right: “What about me? Am I not to be considered?” + Yes, of course she would be considered. + The position his fortune assured him would always be + hers. He had no notion of asking her to share a + log cabin in the wilds of Canada, or to bury herself + in Oliver’s dud island of Huaheine. The great + world would be before them. “But give me some + sort of an idea of what you propose to do,” she would + with perfect propriety demand. And there Doggie + was stuck. He had not the ghost of a programme. + All he had was faith in the war, faith in the British + spirit and genius that would bring it to a perfect end, + in which there would be unimagined opportunities + for a man to fling himself into a new life, and new + conditions, and begin the new work of a new civilization.</p> + + <p>“If she’ll only understand,” said he, “that I + can’t go back to those blasted little dogs, all will be + well.”</p> + + <p>Not quite all. Although his future was as nebulous + as the planetary system in the Milky Way, at the back + of his mind was a vague conviction that it would be + connected somehow with the welfare of those men + <a class="pagenum" id="page308" title="308"> </a>whom he had learned to know and love: the men to + whom reading was little pleasure, writing a school-child’s + laborious task, the glories of the earth as interpreted + through art a sealed book; the men whose + daily speech was foul metaphor; the men, hemi-demi-semi-educated, + whose crude socialistic opinions + the open lessons of history and the eternal facts of + human nature derisively refuted; the men who had + sweated and slaved in factory and in field to no other + purpose than to obey the biological laws of the perpetuation + of the species; yet the men with the sweet minds + of children, the gushing tenderness of women, the hearts + of lions; the men compared to whom the rotten + squealing heroes of Homer were a horde of cowardly + savages. They were <em>men</em>, these comrades of his, + swift with all that there can be of divine glory in + men.</p> + + <p>And when they came home and the high gods + sounded the false trumpet of peace?</p> + + <p>There would be men’s work in England for all + the Doggies in England to do.</p> + + <p>Again, if Peggy could understand this, all would + be well. If she missed the point altogether, and + tauntingly advised him to go and join his friends the + Socialists at once—then—he shoved his cap to the + back of his head and wrinkled his forehead—then——</p> + + <p>“Everything will be in the soup,” said he.</p> + + <p>These reflections brought him to the Deanery. + The nearest way of entrance was the stable-yard gate, + which was always open. He strode in, waved a hand + to Chipmunk who was sitting on the ground with his + back against the garage, smoking a pipe, and entered + the house by the French window of the dining-room. + Where should he find Peggy? His whole mind + was set on the immediate interview. Obviously + <a class="pagenum" id="page309" title="309"> </a>the drawing-room was the first place of search. He + opened the drawing-room door, the hinges and lock + oily, noiseless, perfectly ordained, like everything + in the perfectly ordained English Deanery, and strode + in.</p> + + <p>His entrance was so swift, so protected from sound, + that the pair had no time to start apart before he was + there, with his amazed eyes full upon them. Peggy’s + hands were on Oliver’s shoulders, tears were streaming + down her face, as her head was thrown back from him, + and Oliver’s arm was around her. Her back was + to the door. Oliver withdrew his arm and retired a + pace or two.</p> + + <p>“Lord Almighty,” he whispered, “here’s Doggie!”</p> + + <p>Then Peggy, realizing what had happened, wheeled + round and stared tragically at Doggie, who, preoccupied + with the search for her, had not removed his cap. + He drew himself up.</p> + + <p>“I beg your pardon,” he said with imperturbable + irony, and turned.</p> + + <p>Oliver rushed across the room.</p> + + <p>“Stop, you silly fool!”</p> + + <p>He slammed the open door, caught Doggie by the + arm and dragged him away from the threshold. His + blue eyes blazed and the lips beneath the short-cropped + moustache quivered.</p> + + <p>“It’s all my fault, Doggie. I’m a beast and a + cad and anything you like to call me. But for things + you said last night—well—no, hang it all, there’s + no excuse. Everything’s on me. Peggy’s as true + as gold.”</p> + + <p>Peggy, red-eyed, pale-cheeked, stood a little way + back, silent, on the defensive. Doggie, looking from + one to the other, said quietly:</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page310" title="310"> </a>“A triangular explanation is scarcely decent. + Perhaps you might let me have a word or two with + Peggy.”</p> + + <p>“Yes. It would be best,” she whispered.</p> + + <p>“I’ll be in the dining-room if you want me,” + said Oliver, and went out.</p> + + <p>Doggie took her hand and, very gently, led her + to a chair.</p> + + <p>“Let us sit down. There,” said he, “now we + can talk more comfortably. First, before we touch + on this situation, let me say something to you. It may + ease things.”</p> + + <p>Peggy, humiliated, did not look at him. She + nodded.</p> + + <p>“All right.”</p> + + <p>“I made up my mind this morning to sell Denby + Hall and its contents. I’ve given old Spooner instructions.”</p> + + <p>She glanced at him involuntarily. “Sell Denby + Hall?”</p> + + <p>“Yes, dear. You see, I have made up my mind + definitely, if I’m spared, not to live in Durdlebury + after the war.”</p> + + <p>“What were you thinking of doing?” she asked, + in a low voice.</p> + + <p>“That would depend on after-war circumstances. + Anyhow, I was coming to you, when I entered the + room, with my decision. I knew, of course, that it + wouldn’t please you—that you would have something + to say to it—perhaps something very serious.”</p> + + <p>“What do you mean by something very serious?”</p> + + <p>“Our little contract, dear,” said Doggie, “was + based on the understanding that you would not be + uprooted from the place in which are all your life’s + associations. If I broke that understanding it would + <a class="pagenum" id="page311" title="311"> </a>leave you a free agent to determine the contract, as + the lawyers say. So perhaps, Peggy dear, we might + dismiss—well—other considerations, and just discuss + this.”</p> + + <p>Peggy twisted a rag of handkerchief and wavered + for a moment. Then she broke out, with fresh tears + on her cheek.</p> + + <p>“You’re a dear of dears to put it that way. Only + you could do it. I’ve been a brute, old boy; but I + couldn’t help it. I <em>did</em> try to play the game.”</p> + + <p>“You did, Peggy dear. You’ve been wonderful.”</p> + + <p>“And although it didn’t look like it, I was trying + to play the game when you came in. I really was. + And so was he.” She rose and threw the handkerchief + away from her. “I’m not going to step out + of the engagement by the side door you’ve left open + for me, you dear old simple thing. It stands if you + like. We’re all honourable people, and Oliver”—she + drew a sharp little breath—“Oliver will go out + of our lives.”</p> + + <p>Doggie smiled—he had risen—and taking her + hands, kissed them.</p> + + <p>“I’ve never known what a splendid Peggy it is, + until I lose her. Look here, dear, here’s the whole + thing in a nutshell. While I’ve been morbidly occupied + with myself and my grievances and my disgrace + and my efforts to pull through, and have gradually + developed into a sort of half-breed between a Tommy + and a gentleman with every mortal thing in me warped + and changed, you’ve stuck to the original rotten ass + you lashed into the semblance of a man, in this very + room, goodness knows how many months, or years, + or centuries ago. In my infernal selfishness, I’ve + treated you awfully badly.”</p> + + <p>“No, you haven’t,” she decided stoutly.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page312" title="312"> </a>“Yes, I have. The ordinary girl would have + told a living experiment like me to go hang long + before this. But you didn’t. And now you see a + totally different sort of Doggie and you’re making + yourself miserable because he’s a queer, unsympathetic, + unfamiliar stranger.”</p> + + <p>“All that may be so,” she said, meeting his eyes + bravely. “But if the unfamiliar Doggie still cares + for me, it doesn’t matter.”</p> + + <p>Here was a delicate situation. Two very tender-skinned + vanities opposed to each other. The smart + of seeing one’s affianced bride in the arms of another + man hurts grievously sore. It’s a primitive sex affair, + independent of love in its modern sense. If the savage’s + abandoned squaw runs off with another fellow, + he pursues him with clubs and tomahawks until he + has avenged the insult. Having known ME, to + decline to Spotted Crocodile! So the finest flower + of civilization cannot surrender the lady who once was + his to the more favoured male without a primitive + pang. On the other hand, Doggie knew very well + that he did not love Peggy, that he had never loved + Peggy. But how in common decency could a man + tell a girl, who had wasted a couple of years of her + life over him, that he had never loved her? Instead + of replying to her questions, he walked about the + room in a worried way.</p> + + <p>“I take it,” said Peggy incisively, after a while, + “that you don’t care for me any longer.”</p> + + <p>He turned and halted at the challenge. He snapped + his fingers. What was the good of all this beating + of the bush?</p> + + <p>“Look here, Peggy, let’s face it out. If you’ll + confess that you and Oliver are in love with each other, + I’ll confess to a girl in France.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page313" title="313"> </a>“Oh?” said Peggy, with a swift change to coolness. + “There’s a girl in France, is there? How + long has this been going on?”</p> + + <p>“The last four days in billets before I got wounded,” + said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“What is she like?”</p> + + <p>Then Doggie suddenly laughed out loud and took + her by the shoulders in a grasp rougher than she had + ever dreamed to lie in the strength or nature of Marmaduke + Trevor, and kissed her the heartiest, honestest + kiss she had ever had from man, and rushed out of the + room.</p> + + <p>Presently he returned, dragging with him the + disconsolate Major.</p> + + <p>“Here,” said he, “fix it up between you. I’ve + told Peggy about a girl in France and she wants to + know what she’s like.”</p> + + <p>Peggy, shaken by the rude grip and the kiss, flashed + and cried rebelliously:</p> + + <p>“I’m not quite so sure that I want to fix it up with + Oliver.”</p> + + <p>“Oh yes, you do,” cried Oliver.</p> + + <p>He snatched up Doggie’s cap and jammed it on + Doggie’s head and cried:</p> + + <p>“Doggie, you’re the best and truest and finest of + dear old chaps in the whole wide world.”</p> + + <p>Doggie settled his cap, grinned, and moved to the + door.</p> + + <p>“Anything else, sir?”</p> + + <p>Oliver roared, delighted: “No, Private Trevor, + you can go.”</p> + + <p>“Very good, sir.”</p> + + <p>Doggie saluted smartly and went out. He passed + through the French window of the dining-room into + the mellow autumn sunshine. Found himself standing + <a class="pagenum" id="page314" title="314"> </a>in front of Chipmunk, who still smoked the pipe + of elegant leisure by the door of the garage.</p> + + <p>“This is a dam good old world all the same. Isn’t + it?” said he.</p> + + <p>“If it was always like this, it would have its points,” + replied the unworried Chipmunk.</p> + + <p>Doggie had an inspiration. He looked at his + watch. It was nearly one o’clock.</p> + + <p>“Hungry?”</p> + + <p>“Always ’ungry. Specially about dinner-time.”</p> + + <p>“Come along of me to the Downshire Arms and + have a bite of dinner.”</p> + + <p>Chipmunk rose slowly to his feet, and put his pipe + into his tunic pocket, and jerked a slow thumb backwards.</p> + + <p>“Ain’t yer having yer meals ’ere?”</p> + + <p>“Only now and then, as sort of treats,” said Doggie. + “Come along.”</p> + + <p>“Ker-ist!” said Chipmunk. “Can yer wait a bit + until I’ve cleaned me buttons?”</p> + + <p>“Oh, bust your old buttons!” laughed Doggie. + “I’m hungry.”</p> + + <p>So the pair of privates marched through the old + city to the Downshire Arms, the select, old-world + hotel of Durdlebury, where Doggie was known + since babyhood; and there, sitting at a window table + with Chipmunk, he gave Durdlebury the great + sensation of its life. If the Dean himself, clad in + tights and spangles, had juggled for pence by the west + door of the cathedral, tongues could scarcely have + wagged faster. But Doggie worried his head about + gossip not one jot. He was in joyous mood and ordered + a gargantuan feast for Chipmunk and bottles of the + strongest old Burgundy, such as he thought would + get a grip on Chipmunk’s whiskyfied throat; and + <a class="pagenum" id="page315" title="315"> </a>under the genial influence of food and drink, Chipmunk + told him tales of far lands and strange adventures; + and when they emerged much later into the quiet + streets, it was the great good fortune of Chipmunk’s + life that there was not the ghost of an Assistant Provost-Marshal + in Durdlebury.</p> + + <p>“Doggie, old man,” said Oliver afterwards, “my + wonder and reverence for you increases hour by + hour. You are the only man in the whole world + who has ever made Chipmunk drunk.”</p> + + <p>“You see,” said Doggie modestly, “I don’t think + he ever really loved anyone who fed him before.”</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XXII"><a class="pagenum" id="page316" title="316"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XXII</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">Doggie,</span> the lightest-hearted private in the + British Army, danced, in a metaphorical + sense, back to London, where he stayed for the rest + of his leave at his rooms in Woburn Place; took his + wholesome fill of theatres and music-halls, going to + those parts of the house where Tommies congregate; + and bought an old Crown Derby dinner service as a + wedding present for Peggy and Oliver, a tortoise-shell-fitted + dressing-case for Peggy, and for Oliver + a magnificent gold watch that was an encyclopædia + of current information. He had never felt so happy + in his life, so enchanted with the grimly smiling old + world. Were it not for the Boche, it could hold its + own as a brave place with any planet going. He + blessed Oliver, who, in turn, had blessed him as though + he had displayed heroic magnanimity. He blessed + Peggy, who, flushed with love and happiness and + gratitude, had shown him, for the first time, what a + really adorable young woman she could be. He + thanked Heaven for making three people happy, + instead of three people miserable.</p> + + <p>He marched along the wet pavements with a new + light in his eyes, with a new exhilarating breath in + his nostrils. He was free. The war over, he could + do exactly what he liked. An untrammelled future + lay before him. During the war he could hop about + trenches and shell-holes with the freedom of a bird….</p> + + <p>Those awful duty letters to Peggy! Only now + <a class="pagenum" id="page317" title="317"> </a>he fully realized their never-ending strain. Now + he could write to her spontaneously, whenever the + mood suited, write to her from his heart: “Dear + old Peggy, I’m so glad you’re happy. Oliver’s a + splendid chap. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.” He + had lost a dreaded bride; but he had found a dear + and devoted friend. Nay, more: he had found + two devoted friends. When he drew up his account + with humanity, he found himself passing rich in love.</p> + + <p>His furlough expired, he reported at his depot, and + was put on light duty. He went about it the cheeriest + soul alive, and laughed at the memory of his former + miseries as a recruit. This camp life in England, + after the mud and blood of France—like the African + gentleman in Mr. Addison’s “Cato,” he blessed his + stars and thought it luxury. He was not sorry that + the exigencies of service prevented him from being + present at the wedding of Oliver and Peggy. For it + was the most sudden of phenomena, like the fight of + two rams, as Shakespeare hath it. In war-time people + marry in haste; and often, dear God, they have not + the leisure to repent. Since the beginning of the war + there are many, many women twice widowed…. + But that is by the way. Doggie was grateful to an + ungrateful military system. If he had attended—in + the capacity of best man, so please you—so violent + and unreasoning had Oliver’s affection become, + Durdlebury would have gaped and whispered behind + its hand and made things uncomfortable for everybody. + Doggie from the security of his regiment wished + them joy by letter and telegram, and sent them the + wedding presents aforesaid.</p> + + <p>Then for a season there were three happy people, + at least, in this war-wilderness of suffering. The + newly wedded pair went off for a honeymoon, whose + <a class="pagenum" id="page318" title="318"> </a>promise of indefinite length was eventually cut short + by an unromantic War Office. Oliver returned to + his regiment in France and Peggy to the Deanery, + where she sat among her wedding presents and her + hopes for the future.</p> + + <p>“I never realized, my dear,” said the Dean to his + wife, “what a remarkably pretty girl Peggy has + grown into.”</p> + + <p>“It’s because she has got the man she loves,” said + Mrs. Conover.</p> + + <p>“Do you think that’s the reason?”</p> + + <p>“I’ve known the plainest of women become quite + good-looking. In the early days of our married + life”—she smiled—“even I was not quite unattractive.”</p> + + <p>The old Dean bent down—she was sitting and he + standing—and lifted her chin with his forefinger.</p> + + <p>“You, my dear, have always been by far the most + beautiful woman of my acquaintance.”</p> + + <p>“We’re talking of Peggy,” smiled Mrs. Conover.</p> + + <p>“Ah!” said the Dean. “So we were. I was + saying that the child’s happiness was reflected in her + face——”</p> + + <p>“I rather thought I said it, dear,” replied Mrs. + Conover.</p> + + <p>“It doesn’t matter,” said her husband, who was + first a man and then a dean. He waved a hand in + benign dismissal of the argument. “It’s a great + mercy,” said he, “that she has married the man she + loves instead of—well … Marmaduke has turned + out a capital fellow, and a credit to the family—but + I never was quite easy in my mind over the engagement…. + And yet,” he continued, after a turn or + two about the room, “I’m rather conscience-stricken + about Marmaduke, poor chap. He has taken it like + <a class="pagenum" id="page319" title="319"> </a>a brick. Yes, my dear, like a brick. Like a gentleman. + But all the same, no man likes to see another + fellow walk off with his sweetheart.”</p> + + <p>“I don’t think Marmaduke was ever so bucked + in his life,” said Mrs. Conover placidly.</p> + + <p>“So——?”</p> + + <p>The Dean gasped. His wife’s smile playing + ironically among her wrinkles was rather beautiful.</p> + + <p>“Peggy’s word, Edward, not mine. The modern + vocabulary. It means——”</p> + + <p>“Oh, I know what the hideous word means. It + was your using it that caused a shiver down my spine. + But why bucked?”</p> + + <p>“It appears there’s a girl in France.”</p> + + <p>“Oho!” said the Dean. “Who is she?”</p> + + <p>“That’s what Peggy, even now, would give a + good deal to find out.”</p> + + <p>For Doggie had told Peggy nothing more about + the girl in France. Jeanne was his own precious + secret. That it was shared by Phineas and Mo + didn’t matter. To discuss her with Peggy, besides + being irrelevant, in the circumstances, was quite + another affair. Indeed, when he had avowed the girl + in France, it was not so much a confession as a gallant + desire to help Peggy out of her predicament. For, + after all, what was Jeanne but a beloved war-wraith + that had passed through his life and disappeared?</p> + + <p>“The development of Marmaduke,” said the + Dean, “is not the least extraordinary phenomenon + of the war.”</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Now that Doggie had gained his freedom, Jeanne + ceased to be a wraith. She became once again a + wonderful thing of flesh and blood towards whom + all his young, fresh instinct yearned tremendously. + <a class="pagenum" id="page320" title="320"> </a>One day it struck his ingenuous mind that, if Jeanne + were willing, there could be no possible reason why + he should not marry her. Who was to say him nay? + Convention? He had put all the conventions of his + life under the auctioneer’s hammer. The family? + He pictured a meeting between Jeanne and the kind + and courteous old Dean. It could not be other than + an episode of beauty. All he had to do was to seek + out Jeanne and begin his wooing in earnest. The + simplest adventure in the world for a well-to-do and + unattached young man—if only that young man had + not been a private soldier on active service.</p> + + <p>That was the rub. Doggie passed his hand over + his hair ruefully. How on earth could he get to + Frélus again? Not till the end of the war, at any + rate, which might be years hence. There was nothing + for it but a resumption of intimacy by letter. So he + wrote to Jeanne the letter which loyalty to Peggy + had made him destroy weeks ago. But no answer + came. Then he wrote another, telling her of Peggy + and his freedom, and his love and his hopes, and to + that there came no reply.</p> + + <p>A prepaid telegram produced no result.</p> + + <p>Doggie began to despair. What had happened to + Jeanne? Why did she persist in ruling him out of + her existence? Was it because, in spite of her gratitude, + she wanted none of his love? He sat on the + railing on the sea front of the south coast town where + he was quartered, and looked across the Channel in + dismayed apprehension. He was a fool. What could + there possibly be in little Doggie Trevor to inspire + a romantic passion in any woman’s heart? Take + Peggy’s case. As soon as a real, genuine fellow like + Oliver came along, Peggy’s heart flew out to him like + needle to magnet. Even had he been of Oliver’s + <a class="pagenum" id="page321" title="321"> </a>Paladin mould, what right had he to expect Jeanne + to give him all the wonder of herself after a four days’ + acquaintance? Being what he was, just little Doggie + Trevor, the assumption was an impertinence. She + had sheltered herself from it behind a barrier of + silence.</p> + + <p>A girl, a thing of low-cut blouse, truncated skirts + and cheap silk stockings, who had been leaning unnoticed + for some time on the rails by his side, spoke.</p> + + <p>“You seem to be pretty lonely.”</p> + + <p>Doggie swerved round. “Yes, I am, darned + lonely.”</p> + + <p>“Come for a walk, or take me to the pictures.”</p> + + <p>“And then?” asked Doggie, swinging to his feet.</p> + + <p>“If we get on all right, we can fix up something + for to-morrow.”</p> + + <p>She was pretty, with a fair, frizzy, insolent prettiness. + She might have been any age from fourteen to four-and-twenty.</p> + + <p>Doggie smiled, tempted to while away a dark hour. + But he said, honestly:</p> + + <p>“I’m afraid I should be a dull companion.”</p> + + <p>“What’s the matter?” she laughed. “Lost + your best girl?”</p> + + <p>“Something like it.” He waved a hand across the + sea. “Over there.”</p> + + <p>“French? Oh!” She drew herself up. + “Aren’t English girls good enough for you?”</p> + + <p>“When they’re sympathetic, they’re delightful,” + said he.</p> + + <p>“Oh, you make me tired! Good-bye,” she + snapped, and stalked away.</p> + + <p>After a few yards she glanced over her shoulder to + see whether he was following. But Doggie remained + by the railings.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page322" title="322"> </a>Presently he shrugged his shoulders and went off + to a picture palace by himself and thought wistfully + of Jeanne.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">And Jeanne? Well, Jeanne was no longer at + Frélus; for there came a morning when Aunt Morin + was found dead in her bed. The old doctor came and + spread out his thin hands and said “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Eh bien</em>” and + “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Que voulez-vous?</em>” and “It was bound to happen + sooner or later,” and murmured learned words. The + old curé came and a neighbour or two, and candles + were put round the coffin and the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pompes funèbres</em> + draped the front steps and entrance and vestibule in + heavy black. And as soon as was possible Aunt Morin + was laid to rest in the little cemetery adjoining the + church, and Jeanne went back to the house with + Toinette, alone in the wide world. And because + there had been a death in the place the billeted soldiers + went about the courtyard very quietly.</p> + + <p>Since Phineas and Mo and Doggie’s regiment had + gone away, she had devoted, with a new passionate + zeal, all the time she could spare from the sick woman + to the comforts of the men. No longer restrained by + the tightly drawn purse-strings of Aunt Morin, but + with money of her own to spend—and money restored + to her by these men’s dear and heroic comrade—she + could give them unexpected treats of rich coffee and + milk, fresh eggs, fruit…. She mended and darned + for them and suborned old women to help her. She + conspired with the Town Major to render the granary + more habitable; and the Town Major, who had not + to issue a return for a centime’s expense, received all + her suggestions with courteous enthusiasm. Toinette + taking good care to impress upon every British soldier + who could understand her, the fact that to mademoiselle + <a class="pagenum" id="page323" title="323"> </a>personally and individually he was indebted for all + these luxuries, the fame of Jeanne began to spread + through that sector of the front behind which lay + Frélus. Concurrently spread the story of Doggie + Trevor’s exploit. Jeanne became a legendary figure, + save to those thrice fortunate who were billeted on + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Veuve Morin et Fils, Marchands des Foins en Gros et + Détail</em>, and these, according to their several stolid + British ways, bowed down and worshipped before + the slim French girl with the tragic eyes, and when + they departed, confirmed the legend and made things + nasty for the sceptically superior private.</p> + + <p>So, on the day of the funeral of Aunt Morin, the + whole of the billet sent in a wreath to the house, and + the whole of the billet attended the service in the little + church, and they marched back and drew up by the + front door—a guard of honour extending a little distance + down the road. The other men billeted in + the village hung around, together with the remnant + of the inhabitants, old men, women and children, + but kept quite clear of the guarded path through + which Jeanne was to pass. One or two officers looked + on curiously. But they stood in the background. It + was none of their business. If the men, in their + free time, chose to put themselves on parade, without + arms, of course, so much the better for the army.</p> + + <p>Then Jeanne and the old curé, in his time-scarred + shovel-hat and his rusty soutane, followed by Toinette, + turned round the corner of the lane and emerged + into the main street. A sergeant gave a word of + command. The guard stood at attention. Jeanne + and her companions proceeded up the street, unaware of + the unusual, until they entered between the first two + files. Then for the first time the tears welled into + Jeanne’s eyes. She could only stretch out her hands + <a class="pagenum" id="page324" title="324"> </a>and cry somewhat wildly to the bronzed statues on + each side of her, “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Merci, mes amis, merci, merci</em>,” + and flee into the house.</p> + + <p>The next day Maître Pépineau, the notary, summoned + her to his <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cabinet</em>. Maître Pépineau was very + old. His partner had gone off to the war. “One + of the necessities of the present situation,” he would + say, “is that I should go on living in spite of myself; + for if I died, the whole of the affairs of Frélus would + be in the soup.” Now, a fortnight back, Maître + Pépineau and four neighbours—the four witnesses + required by French law when there is only one notary + to draw up the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">instrument public</em>—had visited Aunt + Morin; so Jeanne knew that she had made a fresh will.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon enfant</em>,” said the old man, unfolding the + document, “in a previous will your aunt had left you + a little heritage out of the half of her fortune which + she was free to dispose of by the code. You having + come into possession of your own money, she has + revoked that will and left everything to her only + surviving son, Gaspard Morin, in Madagascar.”</p> + + <p>“It is only just and right,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“The unfortunate part of the matter,” said Maître + Pépineau, “is that Madame Morin has appointed + official trustees to carry on the estate until Monsieur + Gaspard Morin can make his own arrangements. The + result is that you have no <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">locus standi</em> as a resident in + the house. I pointed this out to her. But you know, + in spite of her good qualities, she was obstinate…. + It pains me greatly, my dear child, to have to state + your position.”</p> + + <p>“I am then,” said Jeanne, “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sans-asile</em>—homeless?”</p> + + <p>“As far as the house of Monsieur Gaspard Morin + is concerned—yes.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page325" title="325"> </a>“And my English soldiers?” asked Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“Alas, my child,” replied the old man, “you will + find them everywhere.”</p> + + <p>Which was cold consolation. For however much + inspired by patriotic gratitude a French girl may be, + she cannot settle down in a strange place where British + troops are billeted and proceed straightway to minister + to their comfort. Misunderstandings are apt to arise + even in the best regulated British regiments. In the + house of Aunt Morin, in Frélus, her position was + unassailable. Anywhere else …</p> + + <p>“So, my good Toinette,” said Jeanne, after having + explained the situation to the indignant old woman, + “I can only go back to my friend in Paris and reconstitute + my life. If you will accompany me——?”</p> + + <p>But no. Toinette had the peasant’s awful dread + of Paris. She had heard about Paris: there were + thieves, ruffians that they called <em>apaches</em>, who murdered + you if you went outside your door.</p> + + <p>“The <em>apaches</em>,” laughed Jeanne, “were swept away + into the army on the outbreak of war, and they’ve + nearly all been killed, fighting like heroes.”</p> + + <p>“There are the old ones left, who are worse than + the young,” retorted Toinette.</p> + + <p>No. Mademoiselle could teach her nothing about + Paris. You could not even cross a street without + risk of life, so many were the omnibuses and automobiles. + In every shop you were a stranger to be + robbed. There was no air in Paris. You could not + sleep for the noise. And then—to live in a city of + a hundred million people and not know a living soul! + It was a mad-house matter. Again no. It grieved + her to part from mademoiselle, but she had made her + little economies—a difficult achievement, considering + how regardful of her pence Madame had been—and + <a class="pagenum" id="page326" title="326"> </a>she would return to her Breton town, which forty + years ago she had left to enter the service of Madame + Morin.</p> + + <p>“But after forty years, Toinette, who in Paimpol + will remember you?”</p> + + <p>“It is I who remember Paimpol,” said Toinette. + She remained for a few moments in thought. Then + she said: “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">C’est drôle, tout de même.</em> I haven’t seen + the sea for forty years, and now I can’t sleep of nights + thinking of it. The first man I loved was a fisherman + of Paimpol. We were to be married after he returned + from an Iceland voyage, with a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gros bénéfice</em>. When + the time came for his return, I would stand on the + shore and watch and watch the sea. But he never + came. The sea swallowed him up. And then—you + can understand quite well—the child was born + dead. And I thought I would never want to look + at the sea again. So I came here to your Aunt + Morin, the daughter of Doctor Kersadec, your grandfather, + and I married Jules Dagnant, the foreman of + the carters of the hay … and he died a long time + ago … and now I have forgotten him and I want + to go and look at the sea where my man was drowned.”</p> + + <p>“But your grandson, who is fighting in the + Argonne?”</p> + + <p>“What difference can it make to him whether I + am in Frélus or Paimpol?”</p> + + <p>“That’s true,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>Toinette bustled about the kitchen. Folks had to + eat, whatever happened. But she went on talking, + Madame Morin. One must not speak evil of the + dead. They have their work cut out to extricate + themselves from Purgatory. But all the same—after + forty years’ faithful service—and not to mention in + the will—<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">même pour une Bretonne, c’était raide</em>. + <a class="pagenum" id="page327" title="327"> </a>Jeanne agreed. She had no reason to love her Aunt + Morin. Her father’s people came from Agen on the + confines of Gascony; he had been a man of great + gestures and vehement speech; her mother, gentle, + reserved, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">un pen dévote</em>. Jeanne drew her character + from both sources; but her sympathies were rather + southern than northern. For some reason or the + other, perhaps for his expansive ways—who knows?—Aunt + Morin had held the late Monsieur Bossière in + detestation. She had no love for Jeanne, and Jeanne, + who before her good fortune had expected nothing + from Aunt Morin, regarded the will with feelings of + indifference. Except as far as it concerned Toinette. + Forty years’ faithful service deserved recognition. But + what was the use of talking about it?</p> + + <p>“So we must separate, Toinette?”</p> + + <p>“Alas, yes, mademoiselle—unless mademoiselle + would come with me to Paimpol.”</p> + + <p>Jeanne laughed. What should she do in Paimpol? + There wasn’t even a fisherman left there to fall in + love with.</p> + + <p>“Mademoiselle,” said Toinette later, “do you + think you will meet the little English soldier, Monsieur + Trevor, in Paris?”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Dans la guerre on ne se revoit jamais</em>,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>But there was more of personal decision than of + fatalism in her tone.</p> + + <p>So Jeanne waited for a day or two until the regiment + marched away, and then, with heavy heart, set + out for Paris. She wrote, indeed, to Phineas, and + weeks afterwards Phineas, who was in the thick of + the Somme fighting, wrote to Doggie telling him of + her departure from Frélus; but regretted that as he + had lost her letter he could not give him her Paris + address.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page328" title="328"> </a>And in the meantime the house of Gaspard Morin + was shuttered and locked and sealed; and the bureaucratically + minded old Postmaster of Frélus, who had + received no instructions from Jeanne to forward her + correspondence, handed Doggie’s letters and telegrams + to the aged postman, a superannuated herdsman, who + stuck them into the letter-box of the deserted house + and went away conscious of duty perfectly accomplished.</p> + + <p>Then, at last, Doggie, fit again for active service, + went out with a draft to France, and joined Phineas + and Mo, almost the only survivors of the cheery, + familiar crowd that he had loved, and the grimness + of battles such as he had never conceived possible took + him in its inexorable grip, and he lost sense of everything + save that he was the least important thing on + God’s earth struggling desperately for animal existence.</p> + + <p>Yet there were rare times of relief from stress, + when he could gropingly string together the facts of + a pre-Somme existence. And then he would curse + Phineas lustily for losing the precious letter.</p> + + <p>“Man,” Phineas once replied, “don’t you see that + you’re breaking a heart which, in spite of its apparent + rugosity and callosity, is as tender as a new-made + mother’s? Tell me to do it, and I’ll desert and make + my way to Paris and——”</p> + + <p>“And the military police will see that you make + your way to hell via a stone wall. And serve you + right. Don’t be a blithering fool,” said Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Then I don’t know what I can do for you, + laddie, except die of remorse at your feet.”</p> + + <p>“We’re all going to die of rheumatic fever,” said + Doggie, shivering in his sodden uniform. “Blast this + rain!”</p> + + <p>Phineas thrust his hand beneath his clothing and + <a class="pagenum" id="page329" title="329"> </a>produced a long, amorphous and repulsive substance, + like a painted tallow candle overcome by intense heat, + from which he gravely bit an inch or two.</p> + + <p>“What’s that?” asked Doggie.</p> + + <p>“It’s a stick of peppermint,” said Phineas. “I’ve + still an aunt in Galashiels who remembers my + existence.”</p> + + <p>Doggie stuck out his hand like a monkey in the + Zoo.</p> + + <p>“You selfish beast!” he said.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XXIII"><a class="pagenum" id="page330" title="330"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> fighting went on and, to Doggie, the inhabitants + of the outside world became almost + as phantasmagorical as Phineas’s providential aunt in + Galashiels. Immediate existence held him. In an + historic battle Mo Shendish fell with a machine bullet + through his heart. Doggie, staggering with the rest + of the company to the attack over the muddy, shell-torn + ground, saw him go down a few yards away. It + was not till later that he knew he had gone West + with many other great souls. Doggie and Phineas + mourned for him as a brother. Without him France + was a muddier and a bloodier place and the outside + world more unreal than ever.</p> + + <p>Then to Doggie came a heart-broken letter from the + Dean. Oliver had gone the same road as Mo. Peggy + was frantic with grief. Vividly Doggie saw the peaceful + deanery on which all the calamity of all the war had + crashed with sudden violence.</p> + + <p>“Why I should thank God we parted as friends, + I don’t quite know,” said Doggie, “but I do.”</p> + + <p>“I suppose, laddie,” said Phineas, “it’s good to feel + that smiling eyes and hearty hands will greet us when + we too pass over the Border. My God, man,” he added + reflectively, after a pause, “have you ever considered + what a goodly company it will be? When you come to + look at it that way, it makes Death quite a trivial affair.”</p> + + <p>“I suppose it does to us while we’re here,” said Doggie. + “We’ve seen such a lot of it. But to those who + <a class="pagenum" id="page331" title="331"> </a>haven’t—my poor Peggy—it’s the end of her universe.”</p> + + <p>Yes, it was all very well to take death philosophically, + or fatalistically, or callously, or whatever you liked to + call it, out there, where such an attitude was the only + stand against raving madness; but at home, beneath + the grey mass of the cathedral, folks met Death as a + strange and cruel horror. The new glory of life that + Peggy had found, he had blackened out in an instant. + Doggie looked again at the old man’s letter—his handwriting + was growing shaky—and forgot for a while + the familiar things around him, and lived with Peggy + in her sorrow.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Then, as far as Doggie’s sorely tried division was + affected, came the end of the great autumn fighting. + He found himself well behind the lines in reserve, + and so continued during the cold dreary winter months. + And the more the weeks that crept by and the more + remote seemed Jeanne, the more Doggie hungered + for the sight of her. But all this period of his life + was but a dun-coloured monotony, with but few + happenings to distinguish week from week. Most + of the company that had marched with him into + Frélus were dead or wounded. Nearly all the officers + had gone. Captain Willoughby, who had interrogated + Jeanne with regard to the restored packet, and, on + Doggie’s return, had informed him with a friendly + smile that they were a damned sight too busy then to + worry about defaulters of the likes of him, but that + he was going to be court-martialled and shot as soon + as peace was declared, when they would have time + to think of serious matters—Captain Willoughby had + gone to Blighty with a leg so mauled that never would + he command again a company in the field. Sergeant + Ballinghall, who had taught Doggie to use his fists, + <a class="pagenum" id="page332" title="332"> </a>had retired, minus a hand, into civil life. A scientific + and sporting helper at Roehampton, he informed + Doggie by letter, was busily engaged on the invention + of a boxing-glove which would enable him to carry + on his pugilistic career. “So, in future times,” said + he, “if any of your friends among the nobility and + gentry want lessons in the noble art, don’t forget + your old friend Ballinghall.” Whereat—incidentally—Doggie + wondered. Never, for a fraction of a second, + during their common military association, had Ballinghall + given him to understand that he regarded him + otherwise than as a mere Tommy without any pretensions + to gentility. There had been times when + Ballinghall had cursed him—perhaps justifiably and + perhaps lovingly—as though he had been the scum of + the earth. Doggie would no more have dared address + him in terms of familiarity than he would have dared + slap the Brigadier-General on the back. And now + the honest warrior sought Doggie’s patronage. Of + the original crowd in England who had transformed + Doggie’s military existence by making him penny-whistler + to the company, only Phineas and himself + were left. There were others, of course, good and + gallant fellows, with whom he became bound in the + rough intimacy of the army; but the first friends, + those under whose protecting kindliness his manhood + had developed, were the dearest. And their ghosts + remained dear.</p> + + <p>At last the division was moved up and there was + more fighting.</p> + + <p>One day, after a successful raid, Doggie tumbled + back with the rest of the men into the trench and, + looking about, missed Phineas. Presently the word + went round that “Mac” had been hit, and later the + rumour was confirmed by the passage down the trench + <a class="pagenum" id="page333" title="333"> </a>of Phineas on a stretcher, his weather-battered face + a ghastly ivory.</p> + + <p>“I’m alive all right, laddie,” he gasped, contorting + his lips into a smile. “I’ve got it clean through the + chest like a gentleman. But it gars me greet I canna + look after you any longer.”</p> + + <p>He made an attempt at waving a hand, and the + stretcher-bearers carried him away out of the army for + ever.</p> + + <p>Thereafter Doggie felt the loneliest thing on earth, + like Wordsworth’s cloud, or the Last Man in + Tom Hood’s grim poem. For was he not the last + man of the original company, as he had joined it, + hundreds of years ago, in England? It was only + then that he realized fully the merits of the wastrel + Phineas McPhail. Not once or twice, but a thousand + times had the man’s vigilant affection, veiled under + cynical humour, saved him from despair. Not once + but a thousand times had the gaunt, tireless Scotchman + saved him from physical exhaustion. At every turn + of his career, since his enlistment, Phineas had been + there, watchful, helpful, devoted. There he had + been, always ready and willing to be cursed. To + curse him had been the great comfort of Doggie’s + life. Whom could he curse now? Not a soul—no + one, at any rate, against whom he could launch + an anathema with any real heart in it. Than curse + vainly and superficially, far better not to curse at all. + He missed Phineas beyond all his conception of the + blankness of bereavement. Like himself, Phineas had + found salvation in the army. Doggie realized how + he had striven in his own queer way to redeem the + villainy of his tutorship. No woman could have been + more gentle, more unselfish.</p> + + <p>“What the devil am I going to do?” said Doggie.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page334" title="334"> </a>Meanwhile Phineas, lying in a London hospital + with a bullet through his body, thought much and + earnestly of his friend, and one morning Peggy got a + letter.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p class="salutation">“Dear Madam,—</p> + + <p>“Time was when I could not have addressed + you without incurring your not unjustifiable disapproval. + But I take the liberty of doing so now, + trusting to your generous acquiescence in the proposition + that the war has purged many offences. If this + has not happened, to some extent, in my case, I do + not see how it has been possible for me to have regained + and retained the trust and friendship of so sensitive + and honourable a gentleman as Mr. Marmaduke + Trevor.</p> + + <p>“If I ask you to come and see me here, where I + am lying severely wounded, it is not with an intention + to solicit a favour for myself personally—although I’ll + not deny that the sight of a kind and familiar face + would be a boon to a lonely and friendless man—but + with a deep desire to advance Mr. Trevor’s happiness. + Lest you may imagine I am committing an unpardonable + impertinence and thereby totally misunderstand + me, I may say that this happiness can only be achieved + by the aid of powerful friends both in London and + Paris.</p> + + <p>“It is only because the lad is the one thing dear + to me left in the world, that I venture to intrude on + your privacy at such a time.</p> + + <p class="signature">“I am, dear Madam,<br /> + “Yours very faithfully,<br /> + “<span class="name">Phineas McPhail.</span>”</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>Peggy came down to breakfast, and having dutifully + <a class="pagenum" id="page335" title="335"> </a>kissed her parents, announced her intention of going + to London by the eleven o’clock train.</p> + + <p>“Why, how can you, my dear?” asked Mrs. + Conover.</p> + + <p>“I’ve nothing particular to do here for the next + few days.”</p> + + <p>“But your father and I have. Neither of us can + start off to London at a moment’s notice.”</p> + + <p>Peggy replied with a wan smile: “But, dearest + mother, you forget. I’m an old, old married woman.”</p> + + <p>“Besides, my dear,” said the Dean, “Peggy has + often gone away by herself.”</p> + + <p>“But never to London,” said Mrs. Conover.</p> + + <p>“Anyhow, I’ve got to go.” Peggy turned to the + old butler. “Ring up Sturrocks’s and tell them I’m + coming.”</p> + + <p>“Yes, miss,” said Burford.</p> + + <p>“He’s as bad as you are, mother,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>So she went up to London and stayed the night + at Sturrocks’s alone, for the first time in her life. + She half ate a lonely, execrable war dinner in the stuffy, + old-fashioned dining-room, served ceremoniously by + the ancient head waiter, the friend of her childhood, + who, in view of her recent widowhood, addressed her + in the muffled tones of the sympathetic undertaker. + Peggy nearly cried. She wished she had chosen another + hotel. But where else could she have gone? + She had stayed at few hotels in London: once at + the Savoy; once at Claridge’s; every other time at + Sturrocks’s. The Savoy? Its vastness had frightened + her. And Claridge’s? No; that was sanctified + for ever. Oliver in his lordly way had snapped his + fingers at Sturrocks’s. Only the best was good enough + for Peggy. Now only Sturrocks’s remained.</p> + + <p>She sought her room immediately after the dreary + <a class="pagenum" id="page336" title="336"> </a>meal and sat before the fire—it was a damp, chill + February night—and thought miserable and aching + thoughts. It happened to be the same room which + she had occupied, oh—thousands of years ago—on + the night when Doggie, point-device in new Savile + Row uniform, had taken her to dinner at the Carlton. + And she had sat, in the same imitation Charles the + Second brocaded chair, looking into the same generous, + old-fashioned fire, thinking—thinking. And she remembered + clenching her fist and apostrophizing the + fire and crying out aloud: “Oh, my God! if only + he makes good!”</p> + + <p>Oceans of years lay between then and now. Doggie + had made good; every man who came home wounded + must have made good. Poor old Doggie. But how + in the name of all that was meant by the word Love + she could ever have contemplated—as she had contemplated, + with an obstinate, virginal loyalty—marriage + with Doggie, she could not understand.</p> + + <p>She undressed, brought the straight-backed chair + close to the fire, and, in her dainty nightgown, part + of her trousseau, sat elbow on knee, face in thin, + clutching hands, slippered feet on fender, thinking, + thinking once again. Thinking now of the gates of + Paradise that had opened to her for a few brief weeks. + Of the man who never had to make good, being the + wonder of wonders of men, the delicious companion, + the incomparable lover, the all-compelling revealer, + the great, gay, scarcely, to her woman’s limited power + of vision, comprehended heroic soldier. Of the terrifying + meaninglessness of life, now that her God of + Very God, in human form, had been swept, in an + instant, off the earth into the Unknown.</p> + + <p>Yet was life meaningless after all? There must be + some significance, some inner truth veiled in mystery, + <a class="pagenum" id="page337" title="337"> </a>behind even the casually accepted and never probed + religion to which she had been born and in which + she had found poor refuge. For, like many of her + thoughtless, unquestioning class, she had looked at + Christ through stained-glass windows, and now the + windows were darkened…. For the first time in + her life, her soul groped intensely towards eternal + verities. The fire burned low and she shivered. She + became again the bit of human flotsam cruelly buffeted + by the waves, forgotten of God. Yet, after she had + risen and crept into bed and while she was staring + into the darkness, her heart became filled with a vast + pity for the thousands and thousands of women, her + sisters, who at that moment were staring, hopeless, + like her, into the unrelenting night.</p> + + <p>She did not fall asleep till early morning. She + rose late. About half-past eleven as she was preparing + to walk abroad on a dreary shopping excursion—the + hospital visiting hour was in the afternoon—a telegram + arrived from the Dean.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>“Just heard that Marmaduke is severely wounded.”</p> + </blockquote> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">She scarcely recognized the young private tutor + of Denby Hall in the elderly man with the deeply + furrowed face, who smiled as she approached his bed. + She had brought him flowers, cigarettes of the exquisite + kind that Doggie used to smoke, chocolates….</p> + + <p>She sat down by his bedside.</p> + + <p>“All this is more than gracious, Mrs. Manningtree,” + said Phineas. “To a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">vieux routier</em> like me, + it is a wee bit overwhelming.”</p> + + <p>“It’s very little to do for Doggie’s best friend.”</p> + + <p>Phineas’s eyes twinkled. “If you call him Doggie, + like that, maybe it won’t be so difficult for me to + talk to you.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page338" title="338"> </a>“Why should it be difficult at all?” she asked. + “We both love him.”</p> + + <p>“Ay,” said Phineas. “He’s a lovable lad, and it is + because others besides you and me find him lovable, + that I took the liberty of writing to you.”</p> + + <p>“The girl in France?”</p> + + <p>“Eh?” He put out a bony hand, and regarded + her in some disappointment. “Has he told you? + Perhaps you know all about it.”</p> + + <p>“I know nothing except that—‘a girl in France,’ + was all he told me. But—first about yourself. How + badly are you wounded—and what can we do for + you?”</p> + + <p>She dragged from a reluctant Phineas the history + of his wound and obtained confirmation of his statement + from a nurse who happened to pass up the gangway + of the pleasant ward and lingered by the bedside. + McPhail was doing splendidly. Of course, a man + with a hole through his body must be expected to go + back to the regime of babyhood. So long as he behaved + himself like a well-conducted baby all would + be well. Peggy drew the nurse a few yards away.</p> + + <p>“I’ve just heard that his dearest friend out there, + a boy whom he loves dearly and has been through + the whole thing with him in the same company—it’s + odd, but he was his private tutor years ago—both + gentlemen, you know—in fact, I’m here just to talk + about the boy——” Peggy grew somewhat incoherent. + “Well—I’ve just heard that the boy has + been seriously wounded. Shall I tell him?”</p> + + <p>“I think it would be better to wait for a few days. + Any shock like that sends up their temperatures. + We hate temperatures, and we’re getting his down + so nicely.”</p> + + <p>“All right,” said Peggy, and she went back smiling + <a class="pagenum" id="page339" title="339"> </a>to Phineas. “She says you’re getting on amazingly, + Mr. McPhail.”</p> + + <p>Said Phineas: “I’m grateful to you, Mrs. Manningtree, + for concerning yourself about my entirely + unimportant carcass. Now, as Virgil says, ‘<em lang="la" xml:lang="la">paullo + majora canemus</em>.’”</p> + + <p>“You have me there, Mr. McPhail,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>“Let us sing of somewhat greater things. That + is the bald translation. Let us talk of Doggie—if + so be it is agreeable to you.”</p> + + <p>“Carry on,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>“Well,” said Phineas, “to begin at the beginning, + we marched into a place called Frélus——”</p> + + <p>In his pedantic way he began to tell her the story + of Jeanne, so far as he knew it. He told her of the + girl standing in the night wind and rain on the bluff + by the turning of the road. He told her of Doggie’s + insane adventure across No Man’s Land to the farm + of La Folette. Tears rolled down Peggy’s cheeks. + She cried, incredulous:</p> + + <p>“Doggie did that? Doggie?”</p> + + <p>“It was child’s play to what he had to do at Guedecourt.”</p> + + <p>But Peggy waved away the vague heroism of Guedecourt.</p> + + <p>“Doggie did that? For a woman?”</p> + + <p>The whole elaborate structure of her conception of + Doggie tumbled down like a house of cards.</p> + + <p>“Ay,” said Phineas.</p> + + <p>“He did that”—Phineas had given an imaginative + and picturesque account of the episode—“for + this girl Jeanne?”</p> + + <p>“It is a strange coincidence, Mrs. Manningtree,” + replied Phineas, with a flicker of his lips elusively + suggestive of unctuousness, “that almost those identical + <a class="pagenum" id="page340" title="340"> </a>words were used by Mademoiselle Bossière in my + presence. ‘<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il a fait cela pour moi!</em>’ But—you will + pardon me for saying it—with a difference of intonation, + which, as a woman, no doubt you will be able + to divine and appreciate.”</p> + + <p>“I know,” said Peggy. She bent forward and + picked with finger and thumb at the fluff of the + blanket. Then she said, intent on the fluff: “If a + man had done a thing like that for me, I should have + crawled after him to the ends of the earth.” Presently + she looked up with a flash of the eyes. “Why isn’t + this girl doing it?”</p> + + <p>“You must listen to the end of the story,” said + Phineas. “I may tell you that I always regarded + myself, with my Scots caution, as a model of tact and + discretion; but after many conversations with Doggie, + I’m beginning to have my doubts. I also imagined + that I was very careful of my personal belongings; + but facts have convicted me of criminal laxity.”</p> + + <p>Peggy smiled. “That sounds like a confession, + Mr. McPhail.”</p> + + <p>“Maybe it’s in the nature of one,” he assented. + “But by your leave, Mrs. Manningtree, I’ll resume + my narrative.”</p> + + <p>He continued the story of Jeanne: how she had + learned through him of Doggie’s wealth and position + and early upbringing; of the memorable dinner-party + with poor Mo; of Doggie’s sensitive interpretation + of her French <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bourgeoise</em> attitude; and finally the loss + of the letter containing her address in Paris.</p> + + <p>After he had finished, Peggy sat for a long while + thinking. This romance in Doggie’s life had moved + her as she thought she could never be moved since + the death of Oliver. Her thoughts winged themselves + back to an afternoon, remote almost as her socked + <a class="pagenum" id="page341" title="341"> </a>and sashed childhood, when Doggie, immaculately + attired in grey and pearl harmonies, had declared, + with his little effeminate drawl, that tennis made one + so terribly hot. The scene in the Deanery garden + flashed before her. It was succeeded by a scene in + the Deanery drawing-room when, to herself indignant, + he had pleaded his delicacy of constitution. And the + same Doggie, besides braving death a thousand times + in the ordinary execution of his soldier’s duties, had + performed this queer deed of heroism for a girl. Then + his return to Durdlebury——</p> + + <p>“I’m afraid,” she said suddenly, “I was dreadfully + unkind to him when he came home the last time. I + didn’t understand. Did he tell you?”</p> + + <p>Phineas stretched out a hand and with the tips of + his fingers touched her sleeve.</p> + + <p>“Mrs. Manningtree,” he said softly, “don’t you + know that Doggie’s a very wonderful gentleman?”</p> + + <p>Again her eyes grew moist. “Yes. I know. Of + course he never would have mentioned it…. I + thought, Mr. McPhail, he had deteriorated—God + forgive me! I thought he had coarsened and got into + the ways of an ordinary Tommy—and I was snobbish + and uncomprehending and horrible. It seems as if + I am making a confession now.”</p> + + <p>“Ay. Why not? If it were not for the soul’s + health, the ancient Church wouldn’t have instituted + the practice.”</p> + + <p>She regarded him shrewdly for a second. “You’ve + changed too.”</p> + + <p>“Maybe,” said Phineas. “It’s an ill war that + blows nobody good. And I’m not complaining of + this one. But you were talking of your miscomprehension + of Doggie.”</p> + + <p>“I behaved very badly to him,” she said, picking + <a class="pagenum" id="page342" title="342"> </a>again at the blanket. “I misjudged him altogether—because + I was ignorant of everything—everything + that matters in life. But I’ve learned better since then.”</p> + + <p>“Ay,” remarked Phineas gravely.</p> + + <p>“Mr. McPhail,” she said, after a pause, “it wasn’t + those rotten ideas that prevented me from marrying + him——”</p> + + <p>“I know, my dear little lady,” said Phineas, grasping + the plucking hand. “You just loved the other man + as you never could have loved Doggie, and there’s + an end to’t. Love just happens. It’s the holiest + thing in the world.”</p> + + <p>She turned her hand, so as to meet his in a mutual + clasp, and withdrew it.</p> + + <p>“You’re very kind—and sympathetic—and understanding——” + Her voice broke. “I seem to have + been going about misjudging everybody and everything. + I’m beginning to see a little bit—a little bit farther—I + can’t express myself——”</p> + + <p>“Never mind, Mrs. Manningtree,” said Phineas + soothingly, “if you cannot express yourself in + words. Leave that to the politicians and the philosophers + and the theologians, and other such windy + expositors of the useless. But you can express yourself + in deeds.”</p> + + <p>“How?”</p> + + <p>“Find Jeanne for Doggie.”</p> + + <p>Peggy bent forward with a queer light in her eyes.</p> + + <p>“Does she love him—really love him as he deserves + to be loved?”</p> + + <p>“It is not often, Mrs. Manningtree, that I commit + myself to a definite statement. But, to my certain + knowledge, these two are breaking their hearts for + each other. Couldn’t you find her, before the poor + laddie is killed?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page343" title="343"> </a>“He’s not killed yet, thank God!” said Peggy, + with an odd thrill in her voice.</p> + + <p>He was alive. Only severely wounded. He would + be coming home soon, carried, according to convoy, + to any unfriendly hospital dumping-ground in the + United Kingdom. If only she could bring this French + girl to him! She yearned to make reparation for + the past, to act according to the new knowledge that + love and sorrow had brought her.</p> + + <p>“But how can I find her—just a girl—an unknown + Mademoiselle Bossière—among the millions + of Paris?”</p> + + <p>“I’ve been racking my brains all the morning,” + replied Phineas, “to recall the address, and out of + the darkness there emerges just two words, <em>Port Royal</em>. + If you know Paris, does that help you at all?”</p> + + <p>“I don’t know Paris,” replied Peggy humbly. “I + don’t know anything. I’m utterly ignorant.”</p> + + <p>“I beg entirely to differ from you, Mrs. Manningtree,” + said Phineas. “You have come through much + heavy travail to a correct appreciation of the meaning + of human love between man and woman, and so + you have in you the wisdom of all the ages.”</p> + + <p>“Yes, yes,” said Peggy, becoming practical. “But + <em>Port Royal</em>?”</p> + + <p>“The clue to the labyrinth,” replied Phineas.</p> + +</div> +<div class="chapter" id="chapter_XXIV"><a class="pagenum" id="page344" title="344"> </a> + <h2 class="chapter_title">CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> Dean of an English cathedral is a personage.</p> + + <p>He has power. He can stand with folded + arms at its door and forbid entrance to anyone, save, + perhaps, the King in person. He can tell not only + the Bishop of the Diocese, but the very Archbishop + of the Province, to run away and play. Having power + and using it benignly and graciously, he can exert its + subtler form known as influence. In the course of + his distinguished career he is bound to make many + queer friends in high places.</p> + + <p>“My dear Field-Marshal, could you do me a little + favour…?”</p> + + <p>“My dear Ambassador, my daughter, etc., etc….”</p> + + <p>Deans, discreet, dignified gentlemen, who would + not demand the impossible, can generally get what + they ask for.</p> + + <p>When Peggy returned to Durdlebury and put + Doggie’s case before her father, and with unusual + fervour roused him from his first stupefaction at the + idea of her mad project, he said mildly:</p> + + <p>“Let me understand clearly what you want to do. + You want to go to Paris by yourself, discover a girl + called Jeanne Bossière, concerning whose address you + know nothing but two words—Port Royal—of course + there is a Boulevard Port Royal somewhere south of + the Luxembourg Gardens——”</p> + + <p>“Then we’ve found her,” cried Peggy. “We + only want the number.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page345" title="345"> </a>“Please don’t interrupt,” said the Dean. “You + confuse me, my dear. You want to find this girl + and re-establish communication between her and + Marmaduke, and—er—generally play Fairy Godmother.”</p> + + <p>“If you like to put it that way,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>“Are you quite certain you would be acting wisely? + From Marmaduke’s point of view——”</p> + + <p>“Don’t call him Marmaduke”—she bent forward + and touched his knee caressingly—“Marmaduke could + never have risked his life for a woman. It was Doggie + who did it. She thinks of him as Doggie. Every one + thinks of him now and loves him as Doggie. It was + Oliver’s name for him, don’t you see? And he has + stuck it out and made it a sort of title of honour and + affection—and it was as Doggie that Oliver learned + to love him, and in his last letter to Oliver he signed + himself ‘Your devoted Doggie.’”</p> + + <p>“My dear,” smiled the Dean, and quoted: + “‘What’s in a name? A rose——’”</p> + + <p>“Would be unendurable if it were called a bug-squash. + The poetry would be knocked out of it.”</p> + + <p>The Dean said indulgently: “So the name Doggie + connotes something poetic and romantic?”</p> + + <p>“You ask the girl Jeanne.”</p> + + <p>The Dean tapped the back of his daughter’s hand + that rested on his knee.</p> + + <p>“There’s no fool like an old fool, my dear. Do you + know why?”</p> + + <p>She shook her head.</p> + + <p>“Because the old fool has learned to understand + the young fool, whereas the young fool doesn’t understand + anybody.”</p> + + <p>She laughed and threw herself on her knees by + his side.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page346" title="346"> </a>“Daddy, you’re immense!”</p> + + <p>He took the tribute complacently. “What was I + saying before you interrupted me? Oh yes. About + the wisdom of your proposed action. Are you sure + they want each other?”</p> + + <p>“As sure as I’m sitting here,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>“Then, my dear,” said he, “I’ll do what I can.”</p> + + <p>Whether he wrote to Field-Marshals and Ambassadors + or to lesser luminaries, Peggy did not know. + The Dean observed an old-world punctilio about such + matters. At the first reply or two to his letters he + frowned; at the second or two he smiled in the way + any elderly gentleman may smile when he finds himself + recognized by high-and-mightiness as a person of + importance.</p> + + <p>“I think, my dear,” said he at last, “I’ve arranged + everything for you.”</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">So it came to pass that while Doggie, with a shattered + shoulder and a touched left lung, was being transported + from a base hospital in France to a hospital in England, + Peggy, armed with all kinds of passports and recommendations, + and a very fixed, personal sanctified idea, + was crossing the Channel on her way to Paris and + Jeanne.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">And, after all, it was no wild-goose chase, but a + very simple matter. An urbane, elderly person at the + British Embassy performed certain telephonic gymnastics. + At the end:</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Merci, merci. Adieu!</em>”</p> + + <p>He turned to her.</p> + + <p>“A representative from the Prefecture of Police + will wait on you at your hotel at ten o’clock to-morrow + morning.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page347" title="347"> </a>The official called, took notes, and confidently + assured her that he would obtain the address of Mademoiselle + Jeanne Bossière within twelve hours.</p> + + <p>“But how, monsieur, are you going to do it?” + asked Peggy.</p> + + <p>“Madame,” said he, “in spite of the war, the telegraphic, + telephonic, and municipal systems of France + work in perfect order—to say nothing of that of the + police. Frélus, I think, is the name of the place she + started from?”</p> + + <p>At eight o’clock in the evening, after her lonely + dinner in the great hotel, the polite official called again. + She met him in the lounge.</p> + + <p>“Madame,” said he, “I have the pleasure to inform + you that Mademoiselle Jeanne Bossière, late of Frélus, + is living in Paris at 743<sup>bis</sup> Boulevard Port Royal, and + spends all her days at the succursale of the French + Red Cross in the Rue Vaugirard.”</p> + + <p>“Have you seen her and told her?”</p> + + <p>“No, madame, that did not come within my + instructions.”</p> + + <p>“I am infinitely grateful to you,” said Peggy.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il n’y a pas de quoi</em>, madame. I perform the tasks + assigned to me and am only too happy, in this case, + to have been successful.”</p> + + <p>“But, monsieur,” said Peggy, feeling desperately + lonely in Paris, and pathetically eager to talk to a + human being, even in her rusty Vévey school French, + “haven’t you wondered why I’ve been so anxious to + find this young lady?”</p> + + <p>“If we began to wonder,” he replied with a + laugh, “at the things which happen during the war, + we should be so bewildered that we shouldn’t be + able to carry on our work. Madame,” said he, + handing her his card, “if you should have further + <a class="pagenum" id="page348" title="348"> </a>need of me in the matter, I am always at your + service.”</p> + + <p>He bowed profoundly and left her.</p> + + <p>Peggy stayed at the Ritz because, long ago, when + her parents had fetched her from Vévey and had given + her the one wonderful fortnight in Paris she had ever + known, they had chosen this dignified and not inexpensive + hostelry. To her girlish mind it had + breathed the last word of splendour, movement, gaiety—all + that was connoted by the magical name of the + City of Light. But now the glamour had departed. + She wondered whether it had ever been. Oliver had + laughed at her experiences. Sandwiched between dear + old Uncle Edward and Aunt Sophia, what in the + sacred name of France could she have seen of Paris? + Wait till they could turn round. He would take her + to Paris. She would have the unimagined time of + her life. They dreamed dreams of the Rue de la + Paix—he had five hundred pounds laid by, which he + had ear-marked for an orgy of shopping in that Temptation + Avenue of a thoroughfare; of Montmartre, the + citadel of delectable wickedness and laughter; of + funny little restaurants in dark streets where you are + delighted to pay twenty francs for a mussel, so exquisitely + is it cooked; of dainty and crazy theatres; + of long drives, folded in each other’s arms, when + moonlight touches dawn, through the wonders of the + enchanted city.</p> + + <p>Her brief dreams had eclipsed her girlish memories. + Now the dreams had become blurred. She strove to + bring them back till her soul ached, till she broke down + into miserable weeping. She was alone in a strange, + unedifying town; in a strange, vast, commonplace + hotel. The cold, moonlit Place de la Vendôme, with + its memorable column, just opposite her bedroom + <a class="pagenum" id="page349" title="349"> </a>window, meant nothing to her. She had the desolating + sense that nothing in the world would ever matter to + her again—nothing as far as she, Peggy Manningtree, + was concerned. Her life was over. Altruism alone + gave sanction to continued existence. Hence her + present adventure. Paris might have been Burslem + for all the interest it afforded.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Jeanne worked from morning to night in the succursale + of the Croix Rouge in the Rue Vaugirard. + She had tried, after the establishment of her affairs, + to enter, in no matter what capacity, a British base + hospital. It would be a consolation for her surrender + of Doggie to work for his wounded comrades. Besides, + twice in her life she owed everything to the + English, and the repayment of the debt was a matter + of conscience. But she found that the gates of English + hospitals were thronged with English girls; and she + could not even speak the language. So, guided by + the Paris friend with whom she lodged, she made her + way to the Rue Vaugirard, where, in the packing-room, + she had found hard unemotional employment. + Yet the work had to be done: and it was done for + France, which, after all, was dearer to her than England; + and among her fellow-workers, women of all + classes, she had pleasant companionship.</p> + + <p>When, one day, the old concierge, bemedalled from + the war of 1870, appeared to her in the packing-room, + with the announcement that a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">dame anglaise</em> desired + to speak to her, she was at first bewildered. She + knew no English ladies—had never met one in her + life. It took a second or two for the thought to flash + that the visit might concern Doggie. Then came + conviction. In blue overall and cap, she followed the + concierge to the ante-room, her heart beating. At + <a class="pagenum" id="page350" title="350"> </a>the sight of the young Englishwoman in black, with + a crape hat and little white band beneath the veil, it + nearly stopped altogether.</p> + + <p>Peggy advanced with outstretched hand.</p> + + <p>“You are Mademoiselle Jeanne Bossière?”</p> + + <p>“Yes, madame.”</p> + + <p>“I am a cousin of Monsieur Trevor——”</p> + + <p>“Ah, madame”—Jeanne pointed to the mourning—“you + do not come to tell me he is dead?”</p> + + <p>Peggy smiled. “No. I hope not.”</p> + + <p>“Ah!” Jeanne sighed in relief, “I thought——”</p> + + <p>“This is for my husband,” said Peggy quietly.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ah, madame! je demande bien pardon. J’ai dû + vous faire de la peine. Je n’y pensais pas</em>——”</p> + + <p>Jeanne was in great distress. Peggy smiled again. + “Widows dress differently in England and France.” + She looked around and her eyes fell upon a bench by + the wall. “Could we sit down and have a little + talk?”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pardon, madame, c’est que je suis un peu émue</em> …” + said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>She led the way to the bench. They sat down + together, and for a feminine second or two took stock + of each other. Jeanne’s first rebellious instinct said: + “I was right.” In her furs and her perfect millinery + and perfect shoes and perfect black silk stockings that + appeared below the short skirt, Peggy, blue-eyed, fine-featured, + the fine product of many generations of + scholarly English gentlefolk, seemed to incarnate her + vague conjectures of the social atmosphere in which + Doggie had his being. Her peasant blood impelled + her to suspicion, to a half-grudging admiration, to self-protective + jealousy. The Englishwoman’s ease of + manner, in spite of her helter-skelter French, oppressed + her with an angry sense of inferiority. She was also + <a class="pagenum" id="page351" title="351"> </a>conscious of the blue overall and close-fitting cap. + Yet the Englishwoman’s smile was kind and she had + lost her husband…. And Peggy, looking at this + girl with the dark, tragic eyes and refined, pale face + and graceful gestures, in the funny instinctive British + way tried to place her socially. Was she a lady? + It made such a difference. This was the girl for whom + Doggie had performed his deed of knight-errantry; + the girl whom she proposed to take back to Doggie. + For the moment, discounting the uniform which might + have hidden a midinette or a duchess, she had nothing + but the face and the gestures and the beautifully + modulated voice to go upon, and between the accent + of the midinette and the duchess—both being equally + charming to her English ear—Peggy could not discriminate. + She had, however, beautiful, capable hands, + and took care of her finger-nails.</p> + + <p>Jeanne broke the tiny spell of embarrassed silence.</p> + + <p>“I am at your disposal, madame.”</p> + + <p>Peggy plunged at once into facts.</p> + + <p>“It may seem strange, my coming to you; but + the fact is that my cousin, Monsieur Trevor, is severely + wounded….”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon Dieu!</em>” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>“And his friend, Mr. McPhail, who is also + wounded, thinks that if you—well——”</p> + + <p>Her French failed her—to carry off a very delicate + situation one must have command of language—she + could only blurt out—“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il faut comprendre, mademoiselle. + Il a fait beaucoup pour vous.</em>”</p> + + <p>She met Jeanne’s dark eyes. Jeanne said:</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Oui, madame, vous avez raison. Il a beaucoup fait + pour moi.</em>”</p> + + <p>Peggy flushed at the unconscious correction—“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">beaucoup + fait</em>” for “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fait beaucoup</em>.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page352" title="352"> </a>“He has done not only much, but everything for + me, madame,” Jeanne continued. “And you who + have come from England expressly to tell me that he + is wounded, what do you wish me to do?”</p> + + <p>“Accompany me back to London. I had a telegram + this morning to say that he had arrived at a + hospital there.”</p> + + <p>“Then you have not seen him?”</p> + + <p>“Not yet.”</p> + + <p>“Then how, madame, do you know that he desires + my presence?”</p> + + <p>Peggy glanced at the girl’s hands clasped on her + lap, and saw that the knuckles were white.</p> + + <p>“I am sure of it.”</p> + + <p>“He would have written, madame. I only received + one letter from him, and that was while I still lived + at Frélus.”</p> + + <p>“He wrote many letters and telegraphed to Frélus, + and received no answers.”</p> + + <p>“Madame,” cried Jeanne, “I implore you to + believe what I say: but not one of those letters have + ever reached me.”</p> + + <p>“Not one?”</p> + + <p>At first Peggy was incredulous. Phineas McPhail + had told her of Doggie’s despair at the lack of response + from Frélus; and, after all, Frélus had a properly + constituted post office in working order, which might + be expected to forward letters. She had therefore + come prepared to reproach the girl. But …</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je le jure</em>, madame,” said Jeanne.</p> + + <p>And Peggy believed her.</p> + + <p>“But I wrote to Monsieur McPhail, giving him + my address in Paris.”</p> + + <p>“He lost the letter before he saw Doggie again”—the + name slipped out—“and forgot the address.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page353" title="353"> </a>“But how did you find me?”</p> + + <p>“I had a lot of difficulty. The British Embassy—the + Prefecture of Police——”</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon Dieu!</em>” cried Jeanne again. “Did you do + all that for me?”</p> + + <p>“For my cousin.”</p> + + <p>“You called him Doggie. That is how I know + him and think of him.”</p> + + <p>“All right,” smiled Peggy. “For Doggie then.”</p> + + <p>Jeanne’s brain for a moment or two was in a whirl—Embassies + and Prefectures of Police!</p> + + <p>“Madame, to do this, you must love him very + much.”</p> + + <p>“I loved him so much—I hope you will understand + me—my French I know is terrible—but I loved him + so much that until he came home wounded we were + <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fiancés</em>.”</p> + + <p>Jeanne drew a short breath. “I felt it, madame. + An English gentleman of great estate would naturally + marry an English lady of his own social class. That + is why, madame, I acted as I have done.”</p> + + <p>Then something of what Jeanne really was became + obvious to Peggy. Lady or no lady, in the conventional + British sense, Jeanne appealed to her, in her + quiet dignity and restraint, as a type of Frenchwoman + whom she had never met before. She suddenly + conceived an enormous respect for Jeanne. Also for + Phineas McPhail, whose eulogistic character sketch + she had accepted with feminine reservations subconsciously + derisive.</p> + + <p>“My dear,” she said. “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vous êtes digne de toute + dame anglaise!</em>”—which wasn’t an elegant way of + putting it in the French tongue—-but Jeanne, with + her odd smile of the lips, showed that she understood + her meaning; she had served her apprenticeship in + <a class="pagenum" id="page354" title="354"> </a>the interpretation of Anglo-Gallic. “But I want to + tell you. Doggie and I were engaged. A family + matter. Then, when he came home wounded—you + know how—I found that I loved some one—<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">aimais + d’amour</em>, as you say—and he found the same. I + loved the man whom I married. He loved you. He + confessed it. We parted more affectionate friends + than we had ever been. I married. He searched + for you. My husband has been killed. Doggie, + although wounded, is alive. That is why I am here.”</p> + + <p>They were sitting in a corner of the ante-room, + and before them passed a continuous stream of the + busy life of the war, civilians, officers, badged workers, + elderly orderlies in pathetic bits of uniform that might + have dated from 1870, wheeling packages in and + out, groups talking of the business of the organization, + here and there a blue-vested young lieutenant + and a blue-overalled packer, talking—it did not need + God to know of what. But neither of the two women + heeded this multitude.</p> + + <p>Jeanne said: “Madame, I am profoundly moved + by what you have told me. If I show little emotion, + it is because I have suffered greatly from the war. + One learns self-restraint, madame, or one goes mad. + But as you have spoken to me in your noble English + frankness—I have only to confess that I love Doggie + with all my heart, with all my soul——” With her two + clenched hands she smote her breast—and Peggy noted + it was the first gesture that she had made. “I feel + the infinite need, madame—you will understand me—to + care for him, to protect him——”</p> + + <p>Peggy raised a beautifully gloved hand.</p> + + <p>“Protect him?” she interrupted. “Why, hasn’t + he shown himself to be a hero?”</p> + + <p>Jeanne leant forward and grasped the protesting + <a class="pagenum" id="page355" title="355"> </a>hand by the wrist; and there was a wonderful light + behind her eyes and a curious vibration in her voice.</p> + + <p>“It is only <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">les petits héros tout faits</em>—the little + ready-made heroes—ready made by the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bon Dieu</em>—who + have no need of a woman’s protection. But it is a + different thing with the great heroes who have made + themselves without the aid of a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bon Dieu</em>, from little + dogs of no account (<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">des petits chiens de rien du tout</em>) + to what Doggie is at the moment. The woman then + takes her place. She fixes things for ever. She alone + can understand.”</p> + + <p>Peggy gasped as at a new Revelation. The terms + in which this French girl expressed herself were far + beyond the bounds of her philosophy. The varying + aspects in which Doggie had presented himself to her, + in the past few months, had been bewildering. Now + she saw him, in a fresh light, though as in a glass + darkly, as reflected by Jeanne. Still, she protested + again, in order to see more clearly.</p> + + <p>“But what would you protect him from?”</p> + + <p>“From want of faith in himself; from want of + faith in his destiny, madame. Once he told me he + had come to France to fight for his soul. It is necessary + that he should be victorious. It is necessary + that the woman who loves him should make him + victorious.”</p> + + <p>Peggy put out her hand and touched Jeanne’s wrist.</p> + + <p>“I’m glad I didn’t marry Doggie, mademoiselle,” + she said simply. “I couldn’t have done that.” She + paused. “Well?” she resumed. “Will you now + come with me to London?”</p> + + <p>A faint smile crept into Jeanne’s eyes.</p> + + <p>“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais oui, madame.</em>”</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Doggie lay in the long, pleasant ward of the great + <a class="pagenum" id="page356" title="356"> </a>London hospital, the upper left side of his body a mass of + bandaged pain. Neck and shoulder, front and back + and arm, had been shattered and torn by high explosive + shell. The top of his lung had been grazed. Only + the remorseless pressure at the base hospital had justified + the sending of him, after a week, to England. Youth + and the splendid constitution which Dr. Murdoch + had proclaimed in the far-off days of the war’s beginning, + and the toughening training of the war itself, + carried him through. No more fighting for Doggie + this side of the grave. But the grave was as far distant + as it is from any young man in his twenties who + avoids abnormal peril.</p> + + <p>Till to-day he had not been allowed to see visitors, + or to receive letters. They told him that the Dean + of Durdlebury had called; had brought flowers and + fruit and had left a card “From your Aunt, Peggy + and myself.” But to-day he felt wonderfully strong, + in spite of the unrelenting pain, and the nurse had + said: “I shouldn’t wonder if you had some visitors + this afternoon.” Peggy, of course. He followed + the hands of his wrist-watch until they marked the + visiting hour. And sure enough, a minute afterwards, + amid the stream of men and women—chiefly women—of + all grades and kinds, he caught sight of Peggy’s + face smiling beneath her widow’s hat. She had a + great bunch of violets in her bodice.</p> + + <p>“My dear old Doggie!” She bent down and + kissed him. “Those rotten people wouldn’t let me + come before.”</p> + + <p>“I know,” said Doggie. He pointed to his shoulder. + “I’m afraid I’m in a hell of a mess. It’s lovely to see + you.”</p> + + <p>She unpinned the violets and thrust them towards + his face.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page357" title="357"> </a>“From home. I’ve brought ’em for you.”</p> + + <p>“My God!” said Doggie, burying his nose in the + huge bunch. “I never knew violets could smell like + this.” He laid them down with a sigh. “How’s + everybody?”</p> + + <p>“Quite fit.”</p> + + <p>There was a span of silence. Then he stretched + out his hand and she gave him hers and he gripped it + tight.</p> + + <p>“Poor old Peggy dear!”</p> + + <p>“Oh, that’s all right,” she said bravely. “I know + you care, dear Doggie. That’s enough. I’ve just got + to stick it like the rest.” She withdrew her hand after + a little squeeze. “Bless you. Don’t worry about + me. I’m contemptibly healthy. But you——?”</p> + + <p>“Getting on splendidly. I say, Peggy, what kind + of people are the Pullingers who have taken Denby + Hall?”</p> + + <p>“They’re all right, I believe. He’s something in + the Government—Controller of Feeding-bottles—I + don’t know. But, oh, Doggie, what an ass you were + to sell the place up!”</p> + + <p>“I wasn’t.”</p> + + <p>“You were.”</p> + + <p>Doggie laughed. “If you’ve come here to argue + with me, I shall cry, and then you’ll be turned out + neck and crop.”</p> + + <p>Peggy looked at him shrewdly. “You seem to + be going pretty strong.”</p> + + <p>“Never stronger in my life,” lied Doggie.</p> + + <p>“Would you like to see somebody you are very + fond of?”</p> + + <p>“Somebody I’m fond of? Uncle Edward?”</p> + + <p>“No, no.” She waved the Very Reverend the + Dean to the empyrean.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page358" title="358"> </a>“Dear old Phineas? Has he come through? I’ve + not had time to ask whether you’ve heard anything + about him.”</p> + + <p>“Yes, he’s flourishing. He wrote to me. I’ve + seen him.”</p> + + <p>“Praise the Lord!” cried Doggie. “My dear, + there’s no one on earth, save you, whom I should + so much love to see as Phineas. If he’s there, fetch + him along.”</p> + + <p>Peggy nodded and smiled mysteriously and went + away down the ward. And Doggie thought: + “Thank God, Peggy has the strength to face the + world—and thank God Phineas has come through.” + He closed his eyes, feeling rather tired, thinking of + Phineas. Of his last words as he passed him stretcher-borne + in the trench. Of the devotion of the man. + Of his future. Well, never mind his future. In all + his vague post-war schemes for reorganization of the + social system, Phineas had his place. No further need + for dear old Phineas to stand in light green and gold + outside a picture palace. He had thought it out long + ago, although he had never said a word to Phineas. + Now he could set the poor chap’s mind at rest for + ever.</p> + + <p>He looked round contentedly, and saw Peggy and + a companion coming down the ward, together. But + it was not Phineas. It was a girl in black.</p> + + <p>He raised himself, forgetful of exquisite pain, on + his right elbow, and stared in a thrill of amazement.</p> + + <p>And Jeanne came to him, and there were no longer + ghosts behind her eyes, for they shone like stars.</p> + +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROUGH ROAD***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 27786-h.txt or 27786-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/7/8/27786">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/7/8/27786</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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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