seems quite at a discount, and one can't help wondering if Hate can be
infectious! It is all frightfully disappointing, for surely one's heart
beat high when one made up one's mind to do what one could for suffering
Belgium and for the sake of the English name.

Those two poor girls at ----! I know they meant well, and had high ideas
of what they were going to do. Now they "use langwidge" to each other
(although I know a very strong affection binds them), and very, very
strong that language is.

Poor souls, the people here aren't a bit happy. I wonder if the work is
sufficiently "sanctified." One never knows. Lady Bagot's is the happiest
and most serene place here; her men are Church Army people, and they
have evening prayers in the ward. It _does_ make a difference.

Scandals also exist out here, but they are merely silly, I think, and
very unnecessary, though a little conventionality wouldn't hurt anyone.
Sometimes I think it would be better if we were all at home, for
Belgians are particular, and I hate breeches and gaiters for girls, and
a silly way of going on. I do wish people could sometimes leave sex at
home, but they never seem to. I wonder if Crusaders came back with
scandals attached to their names!

I got back here in one of those rushes of work that come in war time
when fighting is near. At first no car could be spared to meet me at
Boulogne, so I had to wait at the Hôtel Maurice for two or three days. I
didn't mind much as I met such a lot of English friends, and also
visited some interesting hospitals; but I knew by the thousands of
wounded coming in that things must be busy at the front, and this made
one champ one's bit.