Kitty was terribly upset when Lawson breathed his last. She made a painful scene by the deathbed. Her nerve gave way, and she went off into violent hysterics. The angry nurses made short work with her; two of them carried her right out of the hospital. Sister Eugenia said she would see her home.
"I will walk with you," she said, "as far as the hotel. A girl like you is worse than useless in Ladysmith."
The stinging words recalled Kitty to herself.
"Why won't you have any pity for me?" she gasped.
"No one has pity for moral weakness in Ladysmith," replied the sister. "You are worse than a coward; you are selfish. If you had come into the ward when you were asked for, you might have done some good, and the poor fellow would have died happy. But nothing can be done now. All the tears in the world won't alter things. And to make a fuss when there are soldiers dying, soldiers of the Queen—oh, I could shake you!"
Sister Eugenia's words were so full of passion that Kitty was aroused to be ashamed of herself. She turned when they were half-way up the street.
"I don't think I'll be afraid of the kisses," she said. "You can go back."
"Afraid of what?"
"Of Long Tom's shells."
"They are not likely to touch you," said the sister, in contempt. "They don't touch the selfish and the useless. You are safe. If you don't want me, I will go back."