conciliatory indifference.

In the afternoon Tommy's time was his own. He could sleep, or wander
along the country roads,--within a prescribed area,--or, which was more
often the case, indulge in those games of chance which were as the breath
of life to him. Pay-day was the event of the week in billets because it
gave him the wherewithal to satisfy the promptings of his sporting blood.
Our fortnightly allowance of from five to ten francs was not a princely
sum; but in pennies and halfpennies, it was quite enough to provide many
hours of absorbing amusement. Tommy gambled because he could not help it.
When he had no money he wagered his allowance of cigarettes or his share
of the daily jam ration. I believe that the appeal which war made to him
was largely one to his sporting instincts. Life and Death were playing
stakes for his soul with the betting odds about even.

The most interesting feature of our life in billets was the contact which
it gave us with the civilian population who remained in the war zone,
either because they had no place else to go, or because of that
indomitable, unconquerable spirit which is characteristic of the French.
There are few British soldiers along the western front who do not have
memories of the heroic mothers who clung to their ruined homes as long as
there was a wall standing. It was one of these who summed up for me, in
five words, all the heart-breaking tragedy of war.

She kept a little shop, in Armentieres, on one of the streets leading to
the firing-line. We often stopped there, when going up to the trenches,
to buy loaves of delicious French bread. She had candles for sale as
well, and chocolate, and packets of stationery. Her stock was exhausted
daily, and in some way replenished daily. I think she made long journeys
to the other side of the town, bringing back fresh supplies in a pushcart
which stood outside her door. Her cottage, which was less than a mile
from our first-line trenches, was partly in ruins. I couldn't understand
her being there in such danger. Evidently it was with the consent of the
military authorities. There were other women living on the same street;
but somehow, she was different from the others. There was a spiritual
fineness about her which impressed one at once. Her eyes were dry as
though the tears had been drained from them, to the last drop, long ago.

One day, calling for a packet of candles, I found her standing at the
barricaded window which lo