I am now allowed up and can wander about where I please – with any luck another few days ought to see me completely adjusted. Hot formentations are now only a nightly business – by day we wear a dry dressing. The wound has not actually closed up but at least it is clean I think. The company has changed since I last wrote, our greatest loss being the Doctor who has most unfortunately returned to his regiment. “Face” is still here and is boring as ever. There is also a garrulous Scotch Subaltern – A most colossal buck–stick of whom I am heartily tired. We three are the only patients except for those who pass through on their way to C.C.S. Mould has gone back and is quite fit again. I had just got into bed last night when one of the “passing through” patients was thrust in to occupy the other bed. He informed me with great gusto that he suffered most from somnambulism and making horrid noises in his sleep. So much so that the night Corporal who is an excellent fellow and rather a friend of mine was somewhat anxious for my safety. I am almost sure that he spent the whole night just outside the door, waiting to come in should anything happen. At all events when the other bed did appear slightly restless he came in promptly with a candle and calmed it down. Fortunately there was no somnambulistic display though I was fully prepared with missiles. I had a long talk yesterday with the owner of the chateau here who is rather an interesting old chap – retired army. He is a very staunch royalist and does hot much love the present government. I have never heard of anyone out here before who spoke of a King of France and really meant it. I believe this old chap and Orleans are rather friends, go shooting together and that sort of thing. There is a miserable gramophone going just outside door and collected thought is difficult. Here is the M.O. and the post will have gone by then time he has finished so au revoir.