Part 7 (2/2)

”Nurse, I'm only a ranker, but I had a bit saved I went to a private doctor and paid for myself And I went to a specialist, and he told et this I paid for it ht have been alone in the world, he and I Far down at the other end of the room the men sat crouched about the fire, their trays before them on chairs The sheet ofbehind Mr Wicks's head was flecked with the ale, obtained a second's refuge before oblivion

”I'd sooner be dead than lying here; I would, reely” You hear that often in the world ”I'd sooner be dead than----” But Mr Wicksthere And death is a horror, an end Yet he says lying there is worse

”You see, I paid for a specialist myself, and he toldto be said One must have one's tea I went down the ward to the bunk, and we cut the pink iced cake left over froot him From birth to death we are alone

But one of the Sisters remembered him

”Mr Wicks is still in the dumps,” she remarked

”What is really the matter with him, Sister?”

”Locomotor ataxy” And she added as she drank her tea, ”It's his own fault”

”Oh, hush, hush!+” e the bitterness of this, nun, from your convent!”

Alas, Mr Wicks! No wonder you saved your money to spend upon specialists! How many years have you walked in fear of this? He took your entleo in peace He blessed you and gave you salvation

And the bitterest thing of all is that you paid for hi

How the blinds blew and the s shook to-night! I walked out of the hospital into a gale, clouds driving to the sea, trees bending back and fore across the moon

I walked till I ar shi+ne of the moon heldher--till at last, bringing rass on the hill-side and the shi+ning ribbon tracks in the o to Dover, and Dover is France--and France leads anywhere

To what a lost enchantht of a branch across thewhich escapes yet does not wither

As I passed the public-house on the crest of the hill, all black and white in the cold h and a deep, satisfied snuffle, a ht across the road If I were a o to public-houses

All that polished brass and glass boxed up away from the moon and the shadoould call towhen you have climbed the hill

The TB ward is a melancholy place There is a man in a bed near the door who lies with his e beneath a muslin cloth I saw him behind his screens when I took them over a little lukewarm chicken left froht, and frost Our orderly said, ”You can tell it's freezing, nurse, by the breath,” as he watched mine curl up in ss

Out in the road in front of the hospital I couldn't get thewith spanners

The charwo, all in a bunch One of them stepped off the paveh the ice in the gutter

”Nah, come on, Mrs Toms!”

”I always 'ave to break it, it's ser nice an' stiff,” she said as she ran after them