The general said that afternoon Tietjens would receive a movement order. He said stiffly that he must not regard this new movement order as a disgrace. It was promotion. He, Major-General Campion, was requesting the colonel commanding the depot to inscribe the highest possible testimonial in his, Tietjens', small-book. He, Tietjens, had exhibited the most extraordinary talent for finding solutions for difficult problems.--The colonel was to write that!--In addition he, General Campion, was requesting his friend, General Perry, commanding the sixteenth section . . . Tietjens thought: "Good God. I am being sent up the line. He's sending me to Perry's Army. . . . That's certain death!" . . . To give Tietjens the appointment of second in command of the VIth Battalion of his regiment! Tietjens said, but he did not know where the words came from: "Colonel Partridge will not like that. He's praying for McKechnie to come back!" To himself he said: "I shall fight this monstrous treatment of myself to my last breath." The general suddenly called out: "There you are. . . . There is another of your infernal worries. . . ." He put a strong check on himself, and, dryly, like the very great speaking to the very unimportant, asked: "What's your medical category?" Tietjens said: "Permanent base, sir. My chest's rotten!" The general said: "I should forget that, if I were you. . . . The second in command of a battalion has nothing to do but sit about in arm-chairs waiting for the colonel to be killed." He added: "It's the best I can do for you. . . . I've thought it out very carefully. It's the best I can do for you." Tietjens said: "I shall, of course, forget my category, sir. . . ." Of course he would never fight any treatment of himself! . . . There it was then: the natural catastrophe! As when, under thunder, a dam breaks. His mind was battling with the waters. What would it pick out as the main terror? The mud: the noise: dread always at the back of the mind? Or the worry! The worry! Your eyebrows always had a slight tension on them. . . . Like eye-strain! The general had begun, soberly: "You will recognize that there is nothing else that I can do." His answering: "I recognize, naturally, sir, that there is nothing else that you can do . . ." seemed rather to irritate the general. He wanted opposition: he _wanted_ Tietjens to argue the matter. He was the Roman father counselling suicide to his son: but he wanted Tietjens to expostulate. So that he, General Campion, might absolutely prove that he, Tietjens, was a disgraceful individual. . . . It could not be done. Tietjens was not going to give him the opportunity. The general said: "You will understand that I can't--no commander could!--have such things happening in my command. . . ." Tietjens said: "I must accept that, if you say it, sir." The general looked at him under his eyebrows. He said: