Chapter 5
Ashamed of himself, Big Belt waited to see if Peter would turn in to their quarters, as he approached carrying the hospital steward's blouse across his arm. Boylan would not call. It was like a woman's way—to learn if a man had forgotten her; still he would not call.... Clean-shaven, very straight and full of life, Peter approached, smiling at packers and soldiers, a smile for all the world. “Why not?” Boylan thought. Peter did turn in, and came toward him, hand out.
“Tomato ketchup with duck's eggs. Draw up a chair,” said Boylan. He appeared just now to see the steward's blouse.
“Samarc takes the field to-day. It's for him,” Peter explained.... “He's going out to kill himself. Only one reservation—that he kill no one else.”
Boylan seemed staring at Peter's knees.
“You're letting the ketchup burn,” Peter said mildly.
“I suppose that's what he really means to do,” Big Belt observed, after a moment. “And what are we to do about it?”
“I thought I would stand by a little—not so as to be a nuisance, you know—”
“Naturally not. Of course.”
They ate in silence—a thousand things to say.
“I won't be very far from the staff,” said Peter, hurrying back to the hospital. “Poor old Samarc has two wounds, you know—”