ABSTRACT
Now as she lay relaxed a hundred images of home rose up from her subconscious. She remembered how when she had been living in a village some thirty miles away, about five weeks after the battle of Arnhem, she had dreamt of ‘Bergoord’ night after night, always waking with its queer musty smell in her nostrils. In those dreams the house had always been as she had known it in the old days, stately, friendly, and beautiful. So persistant had these dreams become that at last she had felt impelled to go back and see the house again.
