He spoke in a hurried, excited way, and the listener heard him draw his breath sharply through his teeth from time to time, as if he shivered from nervous dread.
“I was not fit for a soldier. Fate knows best. See what a coward I am.”
“I thought you brave.”
“What!”
“For the way in which you have fought and mastered the natural dread; but go on.”
“Oh, no; it seems nonsense to talk about my troubles at a time like this.”
“It is not. Go on, if you can without hurting yourself more.”
“I’ll go on because it will hurt me more. It will give me something else to think of. Can you understand my croaking whisper?”
“Oh, yes.”
“An uncle of mine brought me up after father and mother died.”