"He says we shall give away the position of the road."

"It's the one they told us to take. We've got to go on it. He's in a
beastly funk. That's what's the matter with him."

The Belgian shrugged his shoulders as much as to say he had done his duty
and things might now take their course, and they were mistaken if for one
minute they supposed he was afraid. But they had not gone fifty yards
before he begged to be put down. He said it was absolutely necessary that
he should go back to the village and collect the wounded there and have
them ready for the ambulance on its return.

They let him go. Charlotte looked round the corner of the hood and saw
him running with brief, jerky strides.

"He's got a nerve," said John, "to be able to do it."

"What excuse do you think he'll make?"

"Oh, he'll say we sent him."

The straight dyke of the road went on and on. Seen from the sunk German
lines the heavy ambulance car would look like a house on wheels running
along a wall. She thought again of John on his exposed seat. If only he
had let her drive--But that was absurd. Of course he wouldn't let her. If
you were to keep on thinking of the things that might happen to
John--Meanwhile nothing could take from them the delight of this
dangerous run across the open. She had to remind herself that the
adventure, the romance of it was not what mattered most; it was not the