But here he was still so young a man, with all his future before him, and compelled to sit all day in a wheeled chair, or else hobble about on crutches.
It has not been the illness that has been hardest for the soldiers to bear, but oftentimes this coming back to accept with resignation a new kind of life.
Yet Captain MacDonnell tried to be patient, tried to let no one guess what he was suffering at thus having his career ended so soon, and being also unable to go on with the service to his country which he so longed to give.
But Olive, who had always more of a gift for sympathy than any one of the Ranch girls, appreciated what he was enduring more than she even revealed to him.
She had been reading him a volume of Kipling one day, and happening to raise her eyes, saw that he was not listening. She even stopped a few moments and found that he was unaware of it.
When Captain MacDonnell did discover his own absorption, he turned to Olive with a charming smile.
"Forgive me," he explained. "I do not intend to be ungrateful, indeed I am more grateful than I know how to express. But those stories of India started me to thinking of the first years I was out there. It is a strange country, India. I don't think we western people understand it."
He and Olive were sitting on the Lodge verandah.
Olive nodded, "I do understand what you must feel and I do wish there was something else to interest you."
Then she remained silent. After all Captain MacDonnell could not go on in idleness like this. There must be something he could find to do, some real thing. Poorer men were learning trades. It would be better for him to do this if only he could be persuaded to feel enough interest.