He was glad to throw himself into his work.  The ward seemed pleasant and friendly when he entered it.  The sister greeted him with a quick, business-like smile.

“You’re very late, Mr. Carey.”

“I was out on the loose last night.”

“You look it.”

“Thank you.”

Laughing, he went to the first of his cases, a boy with tuberculous ulcers, and removed his bandages.  The boy was pleased to see him, and Philip chaffed him as he put a clean dressing on the wound.  Philip was a favourite with the patients; he treated them good-humouredly; and he had gentle, sensitive hands which did not hurt them:  some of the dressers were a little rough and happy-go-lucky in their methods.  He lunched with his friends in the club-room, a frugal meal consisting of a scone and butter, with a cup of cocoa, and they talked of the war.  Several men were going out, but the authorities were particular and refused everyone who had not had a hospital appointment.  Someone suggested that, if the war went on, in a while they would be glad to take anyone who was qualified; but the general opinion was that it would be over in a month.  Now that Roberts was there things would get all right in no time.  This was Macalister’s opinion too, and he had told Philip that they must watch their chance and buy just before peace was declared.  There would be a boom then, and they might all make a bit of money.  Philip had left with Macalister instructions to buy him stock whenever the opportunity presented itself.  His appetite had been whetted by the thirty pounds he had made in the summer, and he wanted now to make a couple of hundred.

He finished his day’s work and got on a tram to go back to Kennington.  He wondered how Mildred would behave that evening.  It was a nuisance to think that she would probably be surly and refuse to answer his questions.  It was a warm evening for the time of year, and even in those gray streets of South London there was the languor of February; nature is restless then after the long winter months, growing things awake from their sleep, and there is a rustle in the earth, a forerunner of spring, as it resumes its eternal activities.  Philip would have liked to drive on further, it was distasteful to him to go back to his rooms, and he wanted the air; but the desire to see the child clutched suddenly at his heartstrings, and he smiled to himself as he thought of her toddling towards him with a crow of delight.  He was surprised, when he reached the house and looked up mechanically at the windows, to see that there was no light.  He went upstairs and knocked, but got no answer.  When Mildred went out she left the key under the mat and he found it there now.  He let himself in and going into the sitting-room struck a match.  Something had happened, he did not at once know what; he turned the gas on full and lit it; the room was suddenly filled with the glare and he looked round.  He gasped.  The whole place was wrecked.  Everything in it