It was the known; he was conscious of rushing at fifty miles an hour into the unknown.

He turned over the scrappy conversation of the last few minutes, and found it savoured of the unknown.

It was curious the difference uniform made.

He felt that these men were treating him more like one of themselves than men in a railway-carriage had ever treated him before; that somehow even his badges made him welcome; and yet that, nevertheless, it was not he, Peter Graham, that they welcomed, or at least not his type.

He wondered if padres in France were different from priests in England.