"I guess you are all right." "Some boy! What ?" said the American doctor.

"Here I think you had better take your fiddle along," handing Barry the violin.

"It doesn't belong to any one in this bunch." The burst of laughter that followed, all out of proportion to the humour of the remark, revealed the tensity of the strain through which they had passed.
Through the little town of Etaples they drove together in almost complete silence, until they had emerged into the country, lying spread out about them in all the tender beauty of the soft spring evening.

As the car moved through the sweet silence of the open fields, the V.A.D.
said softly: "Oh, Captain Dunbar, I--" "My name is Barry," he said gently.
A quick flush came into the beautiful face and a soft light to the brown eyes, as she answered: "And mine is Phyllis." Then she hurried to add, "I was going to say that you helped me this afternoon as nothing has since my dear brothers went." "Thank you, Phyllis.

What you have been to me through all these days, I wish I could tell, but I can't find words." Then they rode together in silence that was more eloquent than any words of theirs could be.