They climbed the broken staircase
and stared toward the break in the poplar trees, from the roofless floor
above.
"Some girl!" one of them said in an undertone.
The others were gazing intently toward the Front. Never before had they
been so close. Never had they seen a ruined town. War, until now, had
been a thing of Valcartier, of a long voyage, of much drill in the mud
at Salisbury Plain. Now here they saw, at their feet, what war could do.
"Damn them!" said one of the boys suddenly. "Fellows, we'll get back at
them soon."
So they went away, a trifle silent and very grateful. But before they
left they had a glimpse of Sara Lee's room, with the corner gone, and
Harvey's picture on the mantel.
"Some girl!" they repeated as they drove up the street. It was the
tribute of inarticulate youth.
Sara Lee went back to her bandages and her thoughts. She had not a great
deal of time to think, what with the officers stopping in to fight their
paper-and-pin battles, and with letters to write and dressings to make
and supplies to order. She began to have many visitors--officers from
the French lines, correspondents on tours of the Front, and once even an
English cabinet member, who took six precious lumps of sugar in his tea
and dug a piece of shell out of the wall with his pocketknife as a
souvenir.
Pages:
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192