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Clematis Room. Lying awake didn't matter much at
first; there was plenty to ruminate about; the view
across the Weald at sunset had revived my memories
of "the good old days when I hunted with the Ring-
well5'. I had escaped from the exasperating boredom
of hospital life, and now for a few weeks I could forget
about the War. . . . But the War insisted on being re-
membered, and by 3 a.m. it had become so peremp-
tory that I could almost believe that some of my
friends out in France must be waiting to go over the
top. One by one, I thought of as many of them as I
could remember. . . .

I'd overheard Lady Asterisk talking about spiritual-
ism to one of the officers; evidently she was a strong
believer in the "unseen world". Perhaps it was this
which set me wondering whether, by concentrating
my mind on, say, young Ormand (who was still with
the Second Battalion) I might be able to receive some
reciprocal communication. At three o'clock in the
morning a sleepless mind can welcome improbabilities
and renounce its daylight scepticism. Neither voice
nor vision rewarded my expectancy.

But I was rewarded by an intense memory of men
whose courage had shown me the power of the human
spirit—that spirit which could withstand the utmost
assault. Such men had inspired me to be at my best
when things were very bad, and they outweighed all
the failures. Against the background of the War and
its brutal stupidity those men had stood glorified by
the thing which sought to destroy them. . . .

I went to the window and leant out. The gables of
the house began to loom distinct against a clear sky.
An owl hooted from the woods; cocks were crowing
from distant farms; on the mantelpiece a little clock
ticked busily. Oppressed by the comfort of my sur-