"Can friends come to see me?" asked Bob.
"To-morrow or the next day, yes, certainly; in a few days you'll be convalescent."
Away in another part of the hospital a man sat smoking a cigarette; he had, during the early part of the day been taking exercise, and, although he felt no pain, he was tired after his exertions.
"In another week I shall be at it again," he reflected. "Heavens, life is a curious whirligig of a business. Fancy, after all I said to him, his coming to the front in this way! A kind of strange irony of fate that he, of all men, should pull me out of the very jaws of death. Of course, he didn't know who I was, or he wouldn't have done it. It was a plucky thing, anyhow; and—and—by Jove, there she is!"
He rose quickly from his chair as he spoke, and went out into the autumn sunshine, where a woman, wearing a nurse's uniform, was talking with a doctor.
"Nancy," said the man, when presently she came towards him, "I haven't seen you for days; this is a lucky chance."
"I haven't much time for anything," she replied; "fifty poor fellows were brought here from the front this morning, and ever since every one of us has been hard at it. Are you all right?"
"Yes, I shall soon be well. In another week, the doctor tells me, I shall be at the front again. But for the thought of leaving you, I shall be jolly glad. We little thought, Nancy, when we parted in Cornwall, and when I told you you might have to nurse me, that it would actually take place."
"No," replied the girl; "but, somehow, the world seems altogether different now; I feel as though ten years had been added to my life. When the war broke out, I was almost happy about it; it seemed so splendid for those I knew to be able to go to the front and fight for their country; war was something glorious. I shall never think about it in that way again. Poor Lieutenant Russell died this morning. Oh, yes, I know it was wonderful the way he bore up to the end; he thought he was back on the battlefield, and he kept on crying, 'We're gaining ground—we're gaining ground! That's it, lad, at 'em; we'll save England from those beastly Germans.' And then he died; yes, it was a glorious death. But all war is horrible, horrible! Do you know, Captain Trevanion, I never cease wondering at the way you were rescued."
"Don't speak to me like that. Surely I am not 'Captain Trevanion' to you; I'm 'Hector.' You've never called me by my name yet; why won't you? I say, Nancy, can't you promise me anything definite before I go back?"