"I am going up to Gratian; poor George is desperately ill. If it goes
badly you should be with your sister. I will wire to-morrow morning
early. I leave you in your aunt's hands, my dear. Be reasonable and
patient. God bless you.

"Your devoted

"DADDY."


He was alone in his third-class compartment, and, leaning forward,
watched the ruined Abbey across the river till it was out of sight.
Those old monks had lived in an age surely not so sad as this. They must
have had peaceful lives, remote down here, in days when the Church was
great and lovely, and men laid down their lives for their belief in her,
and built everlasting fanes to the glory of God! What a change to this
age of rush and hurry, of science, trade, material profit, and this
terrible war! He tried to read his paper, but it was full of horrors and
hate. 'When will it end?' he thought. And the train with its rhythmic
jolting seemed grinding out the answer: "Never--never!"

At Chepstow a soldier got in, followed by a woman with a very flushed
face and curious, swimmy eyes; her hair was in disorder, and her lip
bleeding, as if she had bitten it through. The soldier, too, looked
strained and desperate. They sat down, far apart, on the seat opposite.
Pierson, feeling that he was in their way, tried to hide himself behind
his paper; when he looked again, the soldier had taken off his tunic and
cap and was leaning out of the window. The woman, on the seat's edge,
sniffing and wiping her face, met his glance with resentful eyes, then,