The soldier’s sufferings in the trenches had warped a little his judgment. He was rather hard on others, disregarding their sacrifices and their griefs, none the less real because they had not been exposed to sudden death. The hard work of munition workers turning out shot and shell with ceaseless activity often escaped him, and if, as might happen, he was deceived in his most intimate affections, and a moral catastrophe awaited him at home, then his cup of bitterness was filled, and in his wrath he declared that all women were faithless and all men perjurers and conspirators against his honour or security. And these were the people for whom he was risking his life and sacrificing his professional prospects! The close union of every day with men engaged in the strong-hearted and ruthless profession of war was bound to have a reaction upon thoughts and ways of life. In the rude existence of camps, something of the veneer of drawing-rooms disappeared and man returned to primitive directness and simplicity of thought and speech. He became impatient of subtlety and complicated ways, which seemed to him duplicity and the enemy of plain-dealing. A thing must be frank and clear to appeal to him. He had the soldier’s disgust of those who whispered in secret in the warmth and shelter whilst he was exposed to the blast. A new temperament was forged in the out-of-doors born of the sun and wind and rain. And the thoughts of those who struggle with the elements and the incredible difficulties of a man-made warfare often take on the rugged character of their surroundings.