"You mean," Hadassah said, "that——"
She got no further, for Michael interrupted her. "I mean that if I'm capable of leading the men I ought to do it, but I dread the responsibility. That's why I never tried for a commission—I. didn't feel confident. But as the deaths amongst the officers are much greater than among the men, I can't remain a Tommy, can I?" He pulled his notebook out of his pocket. "Read that," he said. "That's the sort of thing that proves whether a man can lead or not."
Margaret and Hadassah read the newspaper cutting. It had been quoted from the Petit Journal.
"The British High Command relies more and more on the value of the individual soldier, and in this we see one of the main factors which will mean German defeat. Take the case of the heroism of a sergeant who, seeing his officer seriously wounded, himself assumed command of his company and led them victoriously to the third line. There he fell in his turn, but one of the men immediately took his place and completed the conquest of the objective. It is thanks to such acts that . . . has been seized, crossed and left behind."
When Hadassah and Margaret looked up, they met Michael's eyes. They were looking into the things beyond, things very far from Clarges Street.
"That was my sergeant," he said, "the finest fellow that ever wore shoe-leather!"
"And the Tommy," Hadassah said, "has he been promoted?"
Michael's eyes dropped; his tanned skin flushed slightly.
"Of course he'll have to take a commission if it's offered to him. He can't very well refuse. He has proved his ability to lead, poor chap! I expect he'd rather remain as he was. I know I would—it's a terrible responsibility, inspiring your men as well as teaching them, but one can't shelter oneself while others face greater risks."
Hadassah's quick brain read the truth, while Margaret merely lost herself in visualizing the dangers which Michael would so soon have to face. The twelve days would be gone so soon that they were scarcely worth counting.