But this was far worse, for it was more cold-blooded and premeditated, and I didn't seem to have even a sporting chance.

I watched the figures in khaki passing on the pavement, and thought what a nice safe prospect they had compared to mine.

Yes, even if next week they were in the Hohenzollern, or the Hairpin trench at the Quarries, or that ugly angle at Hooge.

I wondered why I had not been happier that morning before I got that infernal wire.

Suddenly all the trivialities of English life seemed to me inexpressibly dear and terribly far away.