e; that was what
counted. Free to reckon his life by more than stretches of twenty-four
hours. Free to rise or go to bed when he liked. Free to travel to the
ends of the earth. Free to speak his mind without the dread of a
court-martial. Never again would he be compelled to issue orders which
he knew to be unwise; never again would he be compelled to obey them. He
was free. And there was Terry----

II

Across the carriage-windows landscapes went leaping: the bleak clearness
of brisk March skies; the shining grayness of meadows from which mists
were slowly rising; the faint flush of greenness which was gathering in
hedges; the shy pageant of spring unfolding, with the promised certainty
of new summers which are never ending. The world looked young. As the
train dashed by, new-born lambs, unused to such disturbances, tottered,
bleating, after their mothers. Buds were bursting. Sap was rising. The
chapped scars of winter were vanishing. Things which had seemed dead
were being convulsed with life. He watched it all gladly and yet
impatiently; it was for the end of the journey that he was waiting.

On nearing London the train slowed down as though reluctant to leave the
country. Twice it halted and he consulted his wrist-watch with a frown.
Then it crept through Battersea, wound snake-like across the gleaming
Thames, and came to rest in Victoria Station. Despite his lameness, he
was the first passenger to alight. He had no luggage to attend to, save
the newly-purchased bag which he carried. He lost no time in hurrying
down the platform; when he hurried his limp became more pronounced. As
he passed through the barrier he slackened his pace. By reason of his
greater height he could glance above the heads of the crowd; his eyes
went questing in all directions. They failed to find what they sought.
He delayed until nearly all the people from the incoming trains had
scuttled into the holes of the Underground; then, masking his
disappointment, he wandered out into the station-yard to hail a taxi. An
Army Staff car was drawn up against the curb. A thrill of hostility
shot through him. How often, in the old days, when marching up to an
attack, had he and his comrades huddled to the side of the road like
sheep that these khaki-colored collies of the shepherds, who had driven
them up to die, might splash arrogantly past them! He eyed it casually
and was passing on, when a girl in the back seat stood up frantically
waving. She was