It was from a small operating hospital in a village of the Argonne that she first saw the war with her own eyes. The girl took stock of her and, apparently reassured, closed the door behind her.!

“Why didn’t they want them?” she asked. “She was so much better last week,” he explained. “But it never lasts.”

“You can face it,” she said: “the possibility of all your life’s work being wasted?” A middle-aged sergeant, who had a wound in the stomach and was sitting up in his bed, looked across. “There was a line of Germans came upon us,” he said, “at Bras. I thought I must be suffering from a nightmare when I saw them. They had thrown away their rifles and had all joined hands. They came dancing towards us just like a row of ballet girls. They were shrieking and laughing, and they never attempted to do anything. We just waited until they were close up and then shot them down. It was like killing a lot of kids who had come to have a game with us. The one I potted got his arms round me before he coughed himself out, calling me his ‘liebe Elsa,’ and wanting to kiss me. Lord! You can guess how the Boche ink-slingers spread themselves over that business: ‘Sonderbar! Colossal! Unvergessliche Helden.’ Poor devils!” The others rose and moved away. Hilda came and stood before Joan with her hands behind her.