5:30 P.M.
... Too weak to bury him , or even carry him out of the tent ... . He must lie where he is ... . Last spoonful of glycerine and hot water ... . Divine service at 5:30 P.M. ... '' Once more Lloyd faltered in her writing ; her hand moved slower . Shut her teeth though she might , the sobs would come ; swiftly the tears brimmed her eyes , but she tried to wink them back , lest Bennett should see . Heroically she wrote to the end of the sentence . A pause followed : `` Yes -- ' divine services at ' -- I -- I -- '' The pen dropped from her fingers and she sank down upon her desk , her head bowed in the hollow of her bare arm , shaken from head to foot with the violence of the crudest grief she had ever known .