SOWING GLORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 21037, 23 November 1931, Page 14

SOWING GLORY.

By P. C. WREN.

SYNOPSIS. This is a glory of a girl's career in the French Foreign Le«ion, and filie relates that, in her girlhood her hero was Terence Hofian. When she returns from school she learns that Terence has been cashiered from tho Army. After the outbreak of war she is on service as ambulance driver in France and meets Terence in an officer's uniform and they dine together. CH ARTE R ll—{Con tin ued). Sido by side, 011 that 'dingy red plush settee, we sat, hands in pockets, cigarettes in mouths, apparently quite cold and detached, beneath the curious eyes of the numerous and variegated patrons of tho hotel. " Thanks, Jacq, old chap," said Terence Hogan at length. " You've clone me a. world of good." " Nonsense," I replied, as gruffly as I could. " You wcro always my best, kindest and truest friend —from the time--1 could toddle —and I owe you a debt I can never repay." " Bilge," said Terence Hogan. " You_ st&ving here ? " V Yes. Another nine nights." "Shall I move in hero ? " Splendid . . ****** Terence Hogan kept his promise. Wrote about as frequently and regularly as could bo expected in the circumstances of war, and wo contrived to meet at A miens. Terence Hogan was then a captain. Had won the M.C., and looked five years cVder than when I had seen him last. He wasn't wearing too well, though lie still looked hard and fit and splendid ... at any rate, when I first caught sight of him. But ho drank half a bottle of whisky with dinner, and confessed to about a hundred cigarettes a day. How I wished the cursed war would end. Then, after an interval that seemed like years, wo contrived to make our leave coincide, and met again, in Paris, at the same hotel. Terence Hogan was a major—and a drunkard. Ho behaved well enough in that respect while he was with me, for what elso ho over was, Terence Hogan was always a gentleman. But the signs were plain and, by that time, after nearly four years of varied and amazing war experiences, I knew them too well to bo mistaken. It was heart-breaking to me. lerence Hogan was happy enough. And -it was obvious from what a brother-officer, Major L—, said to me about him, that there was nothing wrong —yet. Obviously Terence Il°gan was immensely popular in his battalion, and certain of promotion to Colonel at tho next vacancy. But there iit was. Terence Hogan drank: and perhaps it was all the worse that, though he drank, ho did not get drunk.

At dinner, on our last night, after cocktails, we had two bottles of champagne, of which I drank one glass; and a bottle of port, of which I drank half a glass. Terence Hogan had brandy liqueurs, and, after dinner, as we again sat in the lounge, he drank several brandies and sodas. At bedtime he was, in speech and movement, as sober as a judge—and might have been drinking water the whole evening. But his eyes were glazed arid face suffused. His hands trembled. 1 don't pretend to be wise or clever, but, during that fortnight, I used all the wisdom, cleverness and tact that I possessed, to help him. I knew the folly and hopelessness of exacting from him any definite promise. But I did all that lovo prompted me to say and do. . . . I made a bargain with him. . . . But the best that I could hope for was that the war would end in time. The war that was killing the world, mowing men down by tens of millions and bringing ruin, degradation and destruction to half the nations, must, end in time—for mo to save Terence Hogan from himself. ****** If didn't end in time. One day I got a letter from Major L —, who had promised to let me know if " anything happened " to Terence Hogan. Something had happened. But he wasn't wounded, maimed, or killed. It was something much better—or worse—according to one's point of view. It must have been an extremely difficult letter for Major L— to wcite, and ho had done it very nicely. Terence Hogan had gone—again without waiting for the formality of a courtmartial. But this time, I gathered, he. had simply tied. He had escaped, in fact. Major L— was reticent, and, to this day 1 do not know the full details of the story. Evidently it was pretty bad—drunkenness. ... A horrible fiasco in consequence, involving the needless sacrifice of lives, with the failure of an important little operation. ... A righteously incensed General insulted. ****** Terence Hogan in hiding—again. Terence Ilogan who had come back—who had made good. . . . And would as it transpired, havo been a Colonel in a matter o{ days. Tho unutterable fool—the silly damned fool! But. who had any right to talk like that of any man who had done four years in the trenches? Boor Terence Ilogan! For a time I was divided between rage and pity. But I hadn't driven many more ambulance-loads oi mangled men, gasping, groaning, screaming, or appar enlly dead, before tho rage died and the pity grew. What Terence Hogan had seen and heard and faced for over a thousand awful days and more awful nights! Let those who did four years of it, without cracking, cast tho first stone. I suppose it was quite a good thing for me that the hardest of hard work filled the whole of my time not given to the snatching of hasty meals and brief, broken slumber, i did not realise until then how Terence Hogan's reappearance in my life had filled the gap left by the deaths of my father and brothers and of every friend that I'd made. Surrounded and crowded to tho point of suffocation, I walked alone. And then two tlnngs happened; two things which seemed to nie to lie about of equal importance. The Armistico came. And 1 got a letter from Terence Ilogan. 1 wired to tho address that ho gave, and Implored him to await my letter and to Keep in touch. For, in his letter to me, Terence Hogan had tried to give me some idea of the self-loathing that lie felt; of his utter ashainedness; and of how the worst thing to him about the whole business was the thought of what he must appear to me. He said that every time he thought of me, and I was never out of his thoughts, he hated himself afresh and the more. It was a letter of the deepest selfabasement, the humblest apology, and farewell. Now that the War was over, he was going to emerge from his hidingplace and join the French Foreign Legion, where, he would find death, oblivion—or another chance. He answered my wire and letter, and agreed to meet me as soon as I was demobilised. Apparently he did not wish to do this, but. felt, that he owed it to me to do as 1 ordered. . So h'o expressed it. 1 then wrote to Rene, and in 'the end, after a, terrible amount of arguing, persuading and wrangling, I got my way. •

(COPYRIGHT.)

Author of "The Young Stager," "Dew and Mildew," "Father Gregory/ 1 " The Wages of Virtue/* ** Beau Ideal/' etc., etc. A MOST ENTERTAINING AND INTERESTING SERIAL.

Rene's attitude was: " Mad as ever, and I ought not to help you. But tho prank won't Inst long, and you're quite able to look after yourself." Terence Hogan's attitude was: " It's madness. Lunacy. Sheer impossibility. And I .ought not to agree to it. But I can't help myself—and, anyhow, you'll be found out at the very beginning, and I don't see what thoy can do to von/' And then: " A woman couldn't possibly do it." And that would have put tho lid on it, had it not been there already. CHAPTER 111. ( Whatever I forget, I shall always remember the hour I spent at tho " Gare de Lyons " waiting for my two men. Both must come, or my scheme fell to the ground. I was robbed of my great adventure and of my plan to help lerence Hogau. I was sorry to realise -that I felt less sure of him than of Rene, who 1 knew would come. I walked up and down, glancing from time to time at the clock. I sat the grimy seats and watched the "va et vient "of the big terminus. I wondered which of the many soldiers wore going, as I hoped I was to Africa. I listened to family conversations; saw heart-rending partings; stood asido and watched myself watching. Suddenly, I saw Terence Hogan, looking shabby, a little seedy, a little hangdog. Unmistakably a man of breeding; but, 1 had to admit—deteriorated since last I saw him. " livening, Terry," said I, as lie came toward the steps leading up to the refresh merit room, at t lie bottom of which I was standing. " Good Lord . . . Jacq ! Smart gent s suiting . . . hat and stick complete. S'pose I was expecting to meet a girl. So you're coming as far as Marseilles with me, are you?" " Yes," I said. " Farther—if Rene turns up." . " Shall we go and get a drink meanwhile?" said Terence Hogan. " We shall not," I said. Terence Hogan was as steady, coherent, and sober as a judge, and also completely drunk. _ " Nice of you to sec me oft, Jacq, he said. "Is Rene coming as far as Marseilles, too? Nice, obliging, attentive feller, what V " Yes, I said. " One of tho best. What they call a gentleman." " He'll love meeting me, then, observed Terence Hogan. " That's why he's coming," I countered. " Got your, papers ?" "Yes, and damn little elso!" I caught sight of Rene approaching our rendezvous. Fine, dependable Rene. Thoroughbred. He too seemed surprised when I hailed him. "Mon Dieu!... You'll succeed yet— I'm afraid." He smiled, as ho grasped iny hand. " Anyhow, you'll get as far as Sidi, Saida, or Sousse, anyway, I do believe. There you are," he added, handing me an envelope, " and don't forget your name is X Nor forget to practice tho signature. Nor that someone will be arrested as a deserter unless you present those papers at Fort St. Jean within two days. " Did you go through the bureau and pass the doctor yourself, Rene ?" asked. "Or did you se'nd someone else?" _■ " Never you mind, mon cher Monsieur X Someone went through the little mill and emerged with those papers." He was staring hard at Terence Hogan who elaborately pretended that he was not there—or perchance that we two were not.

" This is my friend—er —Terry,'' said I. "He also proposes to trail a pike for ' Madame la Republique.' " Raising his hat a little, Rene bowed slightly, very cold and unsmiling. Terence 1-iogan returned an off-hand, semi-military salute. " Will you gentlemen give mo the very great pleasure of dining with me ?" said Rene. " There is plenty of time. They give one an edible meal here, and have some drinkable wine." " T should love to, Rene," said I. " Right-o," said Terence Hogan. And Rene led the way up into the excellent , restaurant of the " Gare de Lyons." " Got your ticket ?" Rene asked me, as wc went up the steps, his arm through mine. "Or are you going to start, your lunacy from here, and travel on the military pass?" " Waggon-lit!" I replied. " I'll begin roughing it when I have to." It was an uncomfortable meal, in spite of Rene's social tact, suavity and skill. Terence Hogan was difficult. The two men disliked each oilier, and I fancy that each would have liked to say to the other, " You ought to be ashamed of yourself to be helping this girl to attempt such a mad prank." Rene kept up the assumption that I should be returning again in a week or two, at most, and made mo promise that I would write or wire in time for him to come and see me as I passed through Paris 011 my way home. " And for you, monsieur,", said lie, courteously to Terence Hogan. raising his glass, " I hope promotion, decoration, a commission—a career —" Thanks." said Terence Hogan. Reno came down to the train with us, and we stood at the door ofi our waggonlit, " Goodbye—all—old chap," ho said, wrung my hand warmly, forebore to embrace me, raised his hat to include Terence Hogan, and left us. T watched Rene until his smar.t, soldierly figure was lost in the, crowd. As gentlemen, Terence Hoc;an and I travelled in comfort to Marseilles. * * * * * • On leaving our compartment in the morning, we were aware of another train, from a third-class carriage of which tumbled a Ijeterogenwis collection of unwashed, unshaven, and definitely travelstained men of the poorest sort, who were being, not so much welcomed as unenthusiastically accepted, by a. couple of non-commissioned officers. "Our future brothers-in-arms," said Terence Hogan, eyeing the dirty and dishevelled mob with distaste. " Look here, we're not going to march through the streets with that crew," he said. " No," 1 agreed. "Wo follow at a respectable distance and see where they go. And cither slip in behind them, or present ourselves for admission later." " A lot later," growled Terence Hogan. "This particular army of two is going to march on a full stomach. Let's go to the pub down the Cannebiere, ' NoailleV or ' Louvre ' or something, and have a last, decent meal. Anyone can tell us where this Fort St. Jean place is." " Right." I agreed, visualising a last decent bath also. We had baths. We had dejeuner. We had afternoon tea of a sort. We had dinner. We sat in the lounge and smoked. Terence Hogan had his thoughts and certainly I had mine. " Wo need not go in until to-morrow morning, of course," said Terence Hogan. " No," I answered "We need not. Once we're there . . .. we're there." " Yes," replied Terence Hogan, slowly. " And while we're here . . . we're 'here. ..." We stayed. (To bo continued daily.)