The war--pray the Lord!--might be over before her training as an Army nurse was half done.

Meanwhile, her V.A.D.work at Mannering was just what was wanted at the moment from girls of her age--hadn't she seen the appeals for V.A.D.'s?
And also, if by anything she did at home--or set others free for doing--she could help Captain Dell and Miss Bremerton to pull the estate round, and get the maximum amount of food out of it, she would be serving the country in the best way possible.
'The last ounce of food, mind!--that's what it depends on,' he said, smiling at her, 'which can stick it longest--they or we.

You belong to the land--ought you desert it ?' Pamela sat unmoved.

She knew nothing about the land.

Her father had the new agent--and Miss Bremerton.
'Your sister there,' said Chicksands, nodding towards the front drawing-room, where Strang and his wife were sitting Darby and Joan over the fire discussing rations and food prices, 'thinks Miss Bremerton already overdone.' 'I never saw the least sign of it!' 'But think!--your father never slackens his Greek work--and there is all the rest.' 'I suppose if it's too much for her she'll give it up,' said Pamela in her most obstinate voice.
But even then a normally tactful man still held on.
Never was anything more maladroit.