but that depressing idea was in the minds of most of the Officers that
evening. Not that the Subaltern cared much at the time--it would mean a
stop to this everlasting marching, and perhaps the forts of Paris could
stand it; anyhow the German Fleet had been rounded up. (That wicked
rumour spread by the sensational section of the Press had not yet been
denied.)

While he was thinking of these things, they were moving through a
country far more thickly populated. Villages began to crowd upon each
other's heels, and all the villages--cheering sight--were full of
British soldiers settling down to their billets for the night. This was
the first they had seen of any other Division except their own, and the
sight rather dispelled the illusion that, for all these days, they had
been alone and unaided in a land of "frightfulness."

More marching in the darkness!

At last, at about nine o'clock, they reached their billets, but the word
scarcely conveys a correct impression of the palatial château in which
they were quartered. There was considerable delay in settling the men
(which must, of course, be done before an officer thinks of his own
comfort) and in detailing the quarters. At length the officers of the
company found themselves in a little bedroom overlooking a river which
they supposed to be the Seine. The Captain, who had been sent on in
front of the Battalion to allot billets, produced with pride some
chocolate, sardines, and bottled mushrooms.

The Second Lieutenants went in search of the "Company Cookers" to "draw"
their tea (in a washing jug), while the Senior Subaltern effected a
felonious entry into the room allotted to the General, and purloined all