It seemed to me that I was in a sort of basement of a private house, and that a man and woman were watching over me, exhibiting very great kindness and compassion.
I seemed to awaken from my stupor, and remember some snatches of conversation, as they bent over me, for they could both speak a little English.
Blood and clay were still caked on my face and hair; and my uniform was sticky with blood and grime. Oh, how I wished I could take it off and be put into clean clothes and a bed!
The man was taking off my boots:
"Dese very goot boots, yah?"
I assented in a whisper.
"You have dem give you, yah?"
"No," I whispered, "bought them myself."
"Where do you buy such goot boots?"
"London."