Without hesitation or embarrassment the girl bathed her undesired patient’s face and hands. He had fine, strong features; there was nothing in the face to suggest weakness or cowardice. Still it remained impossible to decide his nationality or whether he was an officer or merely a common soldier, since his outfit was a patchwork of oddly assorted garments.
Sally’s acquaintance with uniforms was limited. She knew that the French wore the horizon blue and the British and Americans a nearly similar shade of khaki.
Her patient’s outfit was like no other she had seen.
Yet over these minor details she did not trouble. In spite of her lack of experience, Sally was convinced that the soldier was now suffering from blood poison due to neglect of his wound and the unhealthy and unsanitary conditions in which he had been living.
The day before she had thought he looked and acted strangely and had half an idea that he may have been partly delirious then, so she was not altogether surprised by the present situation.
During her journey across the fields daylight had come; because she would not otherwise have been able to accomplish her present task even so inadequately as she had accomplished it, Sally was pleased.
Yet when the moment arrived and she had done all she could for the soldier’s comfort she had to face her real difficulty.
There is no mistake in this world more serious than to judge other people’s problems in the light in which they appear to us. The problem which is nothing to one human being appears insurmountable to another.
So with Sally Ashton’s present difficulty.
She had made up her mind to tell the soldier that unless he left the château before the following day she would be compelled to tell her friends of his hiding place and ask advice. But she had meant to warn him of her intention and allow him to take his chances if he preferred.