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They found the men in the last house but one, the house with the broken shutter They went, carrying their stretchers and the haversack of dressings, under the slanted lintel into the roo and thickened with a grey powdery swarreyish dust

The three woundedbrickbats and broken panes and slabs of dropped plaster A thin grey powder had settled on them all And by the side of each lairy pool in the middle of it, fed froether their pools had joined and overflowed in a thin red stream

John put down his stretcher and stood still His face was very white, and his upper lip showed in-drawn and dry, and tightened as though it were glued to his teeth

"John, you aren't going to faint or be sick or anything?"

"I' in a curious draay, like a sleep walker

They were kneeling in the dust now, looking for the wounds

"We must do this chap with the arm first He'll want a tourniquet"

He spoke in a husky whisper as if he were half asleep

The wounded head stuck to the floor They scraped round it, digging with their hands; it cae They couldn't do anything more for thatThe thirdflesh-wound in his thigh,

She wondered how John would set about his work But his queer, hypnotised actions were effectual and clean

Between theh all her preoccupation and the quick, dexterousher throat: pity that hurt like love, that was delicious and exquisite like love Nothingexisted in her mind but the three woundedbut a pair of hands working quickly and dexterously with her own She looked up John's lued look; his eyes were feverish behind a glaze of water, and red-riht: It's awful for him He minds too much It hurt her to see how he minded After all, he did matter Deep inside her he matteredon earth Only there wasn't time, there wasn't time to think of him