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Rh that calmness was expected of her as a matter of course.

On the first day of the retreat Constance was placed in charge of one of the Unit's automobiles, and instructed to make as many trips as possible out of the village, conveying the sick, and the old, and the feeble. She worked arduously, turning the nose of her sturdy little car—well oiled and greased by her own hands—time and time again back towards the doomed village, never once faltering, although the thundering of cannon grew louder and louder, and dispatch-riders reported the Germans ever approaching.

It was after midnight of the second day (Constance had been able to snatch but two hours sleep in forty-eight) that orders were finally issued for the members of the Unit, not to return to their headquarters again, but to proceed to the refugee center. The Germans were then only five miles away.

Constance's car was filled to overflowing with human cargo on its last trip out of the village. On the driving seat beside Constance sat another member of the Unit, Ellen Winslow, with a six-hour-old baby, done up in a piece of woolen blanket in her arms.

They had been almost an hour on their journey when, at an important cross-roads, they were