at I cannot face is the ceremony itself. My _moral_ was
spoiled with too many ceremonies in my youth; ceremonies that lacked all
beauty and sincerity and dignity. And though I am convinced of the
beauty and sincerity and dignity of Mr. Grierson's soul I cannot kneel
down with him and take part in the performance of his prayer. Prayer is
either the Supreme Illusion, or the Supreme Act, the pure and naked
surrender to Reality, and attended by such sacredness and shyness that
you can accomplish it only when alone or lost in a multitude that prays.

But why is there no Victoria Cross for moral courage?

(Dr. Wilson has come. He looks clever and nice.)

Our restlessness increases.

[_11 a.m._]

I have seen one of them. As I went downstairs this morning, two men
carrying a stretcher crossed the landing below. I saw the outline of the
wounded body under the blanket, and the head laid back on the pillow.

It is impossible, it is inconceivable, that I should have been afraid of
seeing this. It is as if the wounded man himself absolved me from the
memory and the reproach of fear.

I stood by the stair-rail to let them pass. There was some difficulty
about turning at the stair-head. Mr. Riley was there. He came forward
and took one end of the stretcher and turned it. He was very quiet and
very gentle. You could see that he did the right thing by instinct. And
I saw his face, and knew what had brought him here.

And here on the first landing is another wounded. His face is deformed
by an abscess from a bullet in his mouth. It gives him a terrible look,
half savage, wholly suffering. He sits there and cannot speak.

Mr. Riley is the only one of us who has found anything to do. So
presently we go out to get our military passes. We stroll miserably
about the town, oppressed with a sense of our futility. We buy
cigarettes for the convalescents.

And at noon no orders have come for us.

They come just as we are sitting down to lunch. Our ambulance car is to
go to Alost at once. The Commandant is arrested in the act of cutting
bread. Dr. Bird is arrested in the act of eating it. We are all arrested
in our several acts. As if they had been criminal acts, we desist
suddenly. The men get up and look at each other. It is clear that they
cannot all go. Mr. Grierson looks at the Commandant. His face is a
little white and strained, as it was this morning when he announced
Matins for ten o'clock.

The Commandant looks at Dr. Bird