"I am not sure," said Sylvia to herself, "that the right attitude is not the contempt of the healthy animal for one of its kind who is sick. There's a sort of sterile sensuality about nursing and being nursed."
Sylvia's feelings about the war were confirmed by the views of the doctor who attended her. He had felt a little nervous until England had taken her place beside Russia and France, but once she had done so, the war would be over at the latest by the middle of October.
"It's easy to see how frightened the Germans are by the way they are behaving in Belgium."
"Why, what are they doing?" Sylvia asked.
"They've overrun it like a pack of wolves."
"I have a sister in Brussels," she said, suddenly.
The doctor shook his head compassionately.
"But of course nothing will happen to her," she added.
The doctor hastened to support this theory; Sylvia was still very weak and he did not want a relapse brought on by anxiety. He changed the conversation by calling to Claudinette, the little girl who thought war was so lovely.
"Seen any more soldiers to-day?" he asked, jovially.