Doda sat up. “Did you tidy my room?”
“I couldn’t possibly leave a room like that. Well, I went to tidy your box—”
“I’ll get up,” said Doda. She jumped very quickly out of bed and put on a wrapper and her slippers. “Yes, well?”
“Are you writing to men at the front, Doda?”
“Every girl is. It’s a thing to do. It helps them.”
“Are they friends of yours, dear? Personal friends.”
“They’re brothers of girls I’ve stayed with.”
“All?”
“Practically all. There’re not more than two or three. Lonely soldiers, they’re called. They used to advertise. It helps them. There’s no harm in it, is there?”
“I haven’t suggested there is, Doda.”