"They're searching the road. Quick, into the ditch," shouted Carr to
his servant, as he jumped into an old trench that ran along the
roadside. Butler turned to do the same, slipped on the _pave_, and fell
heavily, his ankle badly sprained. Those hateful hisses would come again
before the man could crawl into safety, and this time they would
probably be nearer, and escape almost miraculous. Captain Carr leaped
out of the trench again and helped his servant to his feet.

"Cling on to me, man!" and, a moment after, he shouted, "down, here they
come again!" and they flung themselves on their faces scarce two feet
from the ditch and probable safety.

When Butler raised his head again after the four explosions, Captain
Ronald Carr lay at his side, dead. The hand had grasped its prey.

* * * * *

Margery Debenham was standing in front of her mirror, getting ready to
go to meet Ronald by the 3.20 train, when Mr. Carr came to announce the
receipt of the War Office telegram.

She could find no tears when she heard the news; she felt stunned, and
vaguely bored by the platitudes of consolation people uttered. When she
could escape, she went slowly down the flagged path, where they used to
walk to the orchard, where the future had been planned by two people
full of the happy confidence of the young. She flung herself down in
the long grass by the stream, and buried her hot face in her hands.

"What does it all mean?" she said to herself. Then, a minute later, she
thought of all the other women who had to bear the same pain, and all
for no reason. "There is no God," she cried passionately. "No one can
help me, for there is no God." Day after day, night after night of
waiting, and all for nothing. All those hours of agony, when the papers
talked of "diversions" on the British front, rewarded by the supreme
agony, by the sudden loss of all hope. No more need to hunt for a loved
but dreaded name through the casualty lists every morning; all that was
finished now.

The splash of a jumping trout in the pool under the willow tree took her
thoughts away from her pain for the fraction of a second--just
sufficient time to allow the soothing tears to come.

"O God," she murmured, "help me to see why. Help me, God, help me!" and
she burst into sobs, her face pressed down into the cool, long grass.

XXI

THE VETERAN

Old Jules Lemaire, ex-sergeant in the 3rd regiment of the line, raised
his