"Is your cup empty?" I said furiously, and held out my hand for it. But it wasn't, of course; she couldn't even do that for me.
She shook hands with me when she went away and said she hoped to come again. And she will.
There was once a lady who asked me very loudly whether I "saw many horrible sights," and "did the V.A.D.'s have to go to the funerals?"
And another who cried out with emotion when she saw the first officer limp in to Mess, "And can some of them walk, then!" Perhaps she thought they came in to tea on stretchers, with field-bandages on. She quivered all over, too, as she looked from one to the other, and I feel sure she went home and broke down, crying, "What an experience ... the actual wounds!"
Shuffle, shuffle, up the corridor to-night, as I was laying my trays. Captain Matthew appeared in the circle of light, his arm and hand bound up and his pipe in his mouth.
He paused by me. "Well...." he said companionably, and lolled against a pillar.
"You've done well at tea in the way of visitors," I remarked. "Six, wasn't it?"
"Yes," he said, "and now I've got rid of 'em all, except one."
"Where's the one?"
"In there." He pointed with his pipe to the empty Mess-Room. "He's the father of a subaltern of mine who was killed."