“Column of Route from the right. Walk—March! Right Incline. Steady that leading team.”
They came towards her, lumbering through the gloom; filed by.
“That you, Mrs. P.J.?” called the last horseman.
“Yes, Captain Torrington.”
“Good luck.”
“And good luck to you all.” They were by now. She heard a voice, “Mind that water-cart”; heard the curse of a driver as wheel shaved gate-post. Dust rolled back; choked her. . . .
“Dear God,” she thought, “can I stick it?”
Another voice hailed her. “That you, Mrs. P.J.? I suspected as much. Come to bid the hero Adjutant farewell?” It was Purves—and she hated him. “He’s in the Orderly Room. By that light.”
“Thank you, Mr. Purves.”
She walked very quietly to the gleaming doorway; climbed the two steps; looked in.