s in your mouth. And what's that little hotel near the
statue of Joan of Arc, Jenks, where they still have decent wine?"

Peter was not to learn yet awhile, for at that moment the little door
opened and a waiter looked in. "Breakfast, gentlemen?" he asked.

"Oh, no," said Jenks. "Waiter, I always bring some rations with me; I'll
just take a cup of coffee."

The man grinned. "Right-o, sir," he said. "Porridge, gentlemen?"

He disappeared, leaving the door open and, Donovan opening a newspaper,
Graham stared out of window to wait. From the far corners came scraps of
conversation, from which he gathered that Jenks and the Major were going
over the doings of the night before. He caught a word or two, and stared
the harder out of window.

Outside the English country was rushing by. Little villas, with
back-gardens running down to the rail, would give way for a mile or two
to fields, and then start afresh. The fog was thin there, and England
looked extraordinarily homely and pleasant. It was the known; he was
conscious of rushing at fifty miles an hour into the unknown. He turned
over the scrappy conversation of the last few minutes, and found it
savoured of the unknown. It was curious the difference uniform made. He
felt that these men were treating him more like one of themselves than
men in a railway-carriage had ever treated him before; that somehow even
his badges made him welcome; and yet that, nevertheless, it was not he,
Peter Graham, that they welcomed, or at least not his type. He wondered
if padres in France were different from priests in England. He turned
over the unknown Drennan in his mind. Was it because he was a good priest
that the men liked him, or because they had discovered the man in the
parson?

The waiter brought in the breakfast--porridge, fish, toast, and the
rest--and they fell to, a running fire of comments going on all the time.
Donovan had had Japanese marmalade somewhere, and thought it better than
this. The Major wouldn't touch the beastly margarine, but Jenks thought
it quite as good as butter if taken with marmalade, and put it on nearly
as thickly as his toast. Peter expanded in the air of camaraderie, and
when he leaned back with a cigarette, tunic unbuttoned and cap tossed up
on the rack, he felt as if he had been in the Army for years. He
reflected how curious that was. The last two or three years or so of Boy
Scouts and hospitals and extra prayer-meetings, attended by the people
wh