A strange gasp and mutter greeted this little speech; then a dull voice called out: "Pro-German!" Wilderton flung up his hand. "The Germans to hell!" he said simply. The dull voice repeated: "Pro-German!" And the speaker on the platform called out: "Come out of that! When we want you to beg us off we'll let you know." Wilderton spun round to him. "You're all wonderful!" he began, but a hymn-book hit him fearfully on the forehead, and he sank down into the bottom of the pulpit. This last blow, coming on the top of so many others, had deprived him of intelligent consciousness; he was but vaguely aware of more speeches, cheers, and tramplings, then of a long hush, and presently found himself walking out of the chapel door between Rudstock and a policeman. It was not the door by which they had entered, and led to an empty courtyard. "Can you walk?" said the policeman. Wilderton nodded. "Then walk off!" said the policeman, and withdrew again into the house of God. They walked, holding each other's arms, a little unsteadily at first. Rudstock had a black eye and a cut on his ear, the blood from which had stained his collar and matted his beard. Wilderton's coat was torn, his forehead bruised, his cheek swollen, and he had a pain in his back which prevented him from walking very upright. They did not speak, but in an archway did what they could with pins and handkerchiefs, and by turning up Rudstock's coat collar, to regain something of respectability. When they were once more under way Rudstock said coldly: "I heard you. You should have spoken for yourself. I came, as you know, because I don't believe in opposing force by force. At the next peace meeting we hold I shall make that plainer." Wilderton murmured: "Yes, yes; I saw you--I'm sure you will. I apologise; I was carried away." Rudstock went on in a deep voice: "As for those young devils, they may die to a man if they like! Take my advice and let them alone." Wilderton smiled on the side which was not swollen. "Yes," he said sadly, "it does seem difficult to persuade them to go on living. Ah, well!" "Ah, well!" he said again, five minutes later, "they're wonderful--poor young beggars! I'm very unhappy, Rudstock!" "I'm not," said Rudstock, "I've enjoyed it in a way! Good-night!" They shook hands, screwing up their mouths with pain, for their fists were badly bruised, and parted, Rudstock going to the North, Wilderton to the West. 1917. IX "THE DOG IT WAS THAT DIED" Until the great war was over I had no idea that some of us who stayed at home made the great sacrifice.