The shell had fallen about 40 feet short of the convent, on the edge of the deserted garden.

Many explanations were given to account for this shot, none of which seemed to me to be very lucid, and I secretly determined to clear out as soon as the doctor would permit.

The very next day we had the narrowest escape of our lives that it is possible to imagine.
There had been very little shelling, and I had taken my first outing in the shape of a rickshaw drive during the afternoon.

The sun was setting, and our little supper-table was already laid at the end of the corridor into which our rooms opened, close to the window beside which we used to sit.

Major Gould Adams had just dropped in, as he often did, to pay a little visit before going off to his night duties as Commandant of the Town Guard, and our repast was in consequence delayed--a circumstance which certainly helped to save our lives.