him out of Margaret's mind. She seldom mentioned his name in
her letters, which were as brief and matter-of-fact as his own.

Sometimes in the busy London streets, and in crowded omnibuses, a
vision of the Valley and the smiling Theban hills would rise before her
eyes, but it would fade away and become as unreal as the Bible story of
the world's creation.

Physical exhaustion made it possible for her to see these visions of
the Valley, and the stars in the Southern heavens, with no throbbing in
her veins or sense of Michael's lips pressed on her own. Physical
labour leaves little expression for fine sentiment and imagination.

* * * * * *

On the morning of the day when Margaret was to see Freddy off to the
Front, she experienced a curious re-birth of personal existence; she
was a partner in the world's agony. Since her work had begun she had
lived like a machine; she was outside the great multitude of the elect;
she had no one belonging to her in immediate danger. She had almost
envied the personal anxiety of those who had their dearest at the Front.

Having no right to indulge in personal troubles which were entirely
outside the subject of the war and the world's welfare, she had ceased
to have any existence at all outside her dull duties as pantry-maid.
But on the day of Freddy's departure she had a curious fluttering in
her pulses, and a breathless excitement was in the background of all
that she did. She found her hands trembling when she placed the cups
in their saucers, or poured milk into the jugs.

Freddy's going was to link her to the great brotherhood. The
consciousness of his danger would be like the weight of an unborn child
under her heart. He was husband and father and lover to her now; he
seemed to be taking with him to France the last remnant of her girlhood.

At Charing Cross she found the khaki-clad figure. He was waiting for
her below the clock. His men, and hundreds of others, were sitting
about at rest, on the few seats which had been provided for soldiers
going to the Front, or on the floor. Most of the men were accompanied
by proud and tearful relatives or lovers. It was an affecting and
typical scene--a peaceful country suddenly torn and driven by the
throes and novelty of war.

Margaret had already witnessed such scenes several times. It always
left her wondering how any order or method came out of such a
bewildering mass of hastily-organized e