“No, not killed. Major Dunwoody has lost his other leg and his right arm.”
“How terrible!” screamed Pandora; then she wept bitterly.
“Terrible, indeed!” replied Smith in a sympathetic tone. “But you know this is the fortune of war. This it is to be a soldier.”
“Poor Henry! How he must have suffered! Do you know how he is? What are the chances of recovery?”
“The dispatch says he is doing very well. But of course he will be a mere wreck.”
“It is dreadful, too dreadful!”
“Perfectly helpless, too. A mere burden upon those who will have to take care of him.”
“Not if they love him!”
“But surely you—you do not intend to cling to such a—a—such a disintegrated ruin as he?”
“I shall be true to him unto death.”