ound and yielding to the
agony that flooded his soul, and that wrought in his heart physical
pain. By a resolute act of will, he held himself erect. While he blamed
and despised himself for his weakness, he was unable to shake it off. He
did not know that his mental and emotional state was in large measure
a physical reaction from the prolonged period of exhausting strain,
his treble tour in the trenches, with its unrelieved sense of impending
destruction, that its endless procession of broken, torn bodies, with
its nights of sleepless activity, with its eternal struggle against
depression, consequent upon the loss of his comrades, its eternal
striving after cheeriness and more than all the shock of the train
wreck, with its scenes of horror; all this had combined to reduce his
physical powers of resistance to the point of utter exhaustion.

As he stood there in that cemetery with its rows of crosses, silently
eloquent of heroism and of sacrifice, the spirit of the place seemed to
breathe into him new life. As his eyes fell upon the cross bearing his
father's name, he seemed to see again that erect and gallant figure,
instinct with life and courage. There came to him the memory of a scene
he had never forgotten. Again he was with his father in the little home
cottage. How dear it had been to him then! How dear to him, today! Once
more he felt the strong grip of his father's hand and heard his father's
voice:

"Good night, boy. We don't know what is before us, defeat, loss,
suffering, that part is not in our hands altogether, but the shame of
the quitter never need and never shall be ours."

Unconsciously as if he were in the presence of a superior officer, he
lifted his hand in salute, and with a sense of renewal of his vital
energies he returned to the boat.

During the crossing his mind was chiefly occupied with the problem of
discovering the whereabouts of the V. A. D. or his American friends.
He had never learned her London address, if indeed she had one. He
remembered that she had told him that her home had been turned into a
hospital. He had some slight hope that he might be able to trace her by
the aid of her uncle.

Arrived in London, his first duty was to see Sergeant Matthews, whose
injuries in the wreck were apparently more serious than at first
supposed, safely disposed in a hospital ambulance. Thereupon he
proceeded to the Hotel Cecil, and set himself seriously to the solution
of his problem. He was t