your money to spend upon
specialists! How many years have you walked in fear of this? He took
your money, the gentleman in Harley Street, and told you that you might
go in peace. He blessed you and gave you salvation.

And the bitterest thing of all is that you paid for him like an officer
and he was wrong.

How the blinds blew and the windows shook to-night...! I walked out of
the hospital into a gale, clouds driving to the sea, trees bending back
and fore across the moon.

I walked till I was warm, and then I walked for happiness.

The maddening shine of the moon held my eyes, and I walked in the road
like a fool, watching her--till at last, bringing my eyes down, the
telegraph-posts were small as blades of grass on the hill-side and the
shining ribbon tracks in the mud on the road ran up the hill for ever.
They go to Dover, and Dover is France--and France leads anywhere.

To what a lost enchantment am I recalled by the sight of a branch
across the moon? Something in childhood, something which escapes yet
does not wither....

As I passed the public-house on the crest of the hill, all black and
white in the cold moonlight, a heavy door swung open and, with a cough
and a deep, satisfied snuffle, a man coming out let a stream of gaslight
across the road. If I were a man I should certainly go to public-houses.
All that polished brass and glass boxed up away from the moon and the
shadows would call to me. And to drink must be a happy thing when you
have climbed the hill.

The T.B. ward is a melancholy place. There is a man in a bed near the
door who lies with his mouth open; his head is like a bird-cage beneath
a muslin cloth. I saw him behind his screens when I took them over a
little lukewarm chicken left from our dinner.

There was a dark red moon to-night, and frost. Our orderly said, "You
can tell it's freezing, nurse, by the breath," as he watched mine curl
up in smoke in the icy corridor. I like people who notice things....

Out in the road in front of the hospital I couldn't get the
motor-bicycle to work, and sat crouched in the dark fiddling with
spanners.

The charwomen came out of the big gate in the dark talking and laughing,
all in a bunch. One of them stepped off the pavement near me and stopped
to put her toe through the ice in the gutter.

"Nah, come on, Mrs. Toms!"

"I always 'ave to break it, it's ser nice an' stiff," she said as she
ran after them.

To be a Sister is to have a nati