When Reggy and the colonel and I arrived at the room which was pointed out as ours for the night we met a tall Belgian officer coming out of it. We grasped the situation on the instant. These officers, who had been hastily aroused, were, with their remarkable courtesy and native hospitality, actually giving up their beds to us. The others had already disappeared down the stairs, and this officer too would have passed us with a bow, but we arrested him and protested that he must on no account deprive himself of his room. "But you are not disturbing me in the least," he replied in French; "you are doing me a great pleasure by accepting my bed." We assured him that we should be able to find accommodation somewhere, and that we felt very guilty for having been the cause of so much inconvenience. "My dear sirs," he protested feelingly, "there is but a very small corner of Belgium left to us; there is so little opportunity for us to offer hospitality to a guest, that when such an occasion as this arises where we have the honour of accommodating our English friends—it would be unkind if you denied us this poor privilege." We could not doubt his sincerity, and felt that he would be hurt if we made any further protest. Where he was to sleep we did not know; but we thanked him, and after bidding him _bonsoir_, passed inside. There was a single and a double bed in the room. The tables were strewn with swords, revolvers, field glasses, prismatic compasses and all the usual accoutrements of military officers. It was evident the room had been vacated hastily. The single bed naturally fell to the lot of the colonel, while Reggy and I, being a trifle smaller than he, clambered into the other—a high, old-fashioned one. Reggy sank wearily into the feather mattress and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. He had the happy faculty of being able to sleep anywhere and at any time. We were to make an early start, and six a.m. came all too soon. A light French breakfast was prepared for us when we descended. About an hour later, after expressing our deep thanks to our gracious hostess, we got into the motor once more and started on the road towards Ypres. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun shone brightly, and not a warlike sound broke the stillness of the clear, cool air as we sped along between the tall poplars which lined the road. One thing only reminded us that we were approaching close to the battle line—the reserve trenches dug on either side. These we passed from time to time; but they were half full of water and uninhabited, and it was apparent there was little thought of their ever being needed.