He knew not who was in front or who was behind.

It was the madness of battle.
He ran and ran, until somebody put his arms round him and stopped him.
"Steady on, my boy-steady on!" Paul looked round in a dazed way.

"Have A' won th' race ?" "I'm afraid not, my lad." With a great effort he screwed his mind to another question.

"Wheer did A' coom in ?" "About sixth, but you ran awfully well." Sixth! He had come in sixth! Sky and grass and trees and white mass of ladies (among whom was the goddess) and unconsiderable men and boys became a shimmering blur.

He seemed to stagger away, stagger miles away, until, finding himself quite alone, he threw himself down under a beech tree, and, after a few moments' vivid realization of what had happened, sobbed out the agony of his little soul's despair.