“It would matter to me.”
He squeezed her little hand in his great fist.
“Ah,” he said, “there’s news for old Anne Brown. The little passenger cares. And because she cares she won’t show her pretty face in Strasburg until the gates are open. I may say that, young lady.”
She turned away with a sigh.
“My husband does not come—how can I remain here?”
“He will come when the Germans enter. Pity is much to a man. He will need your pity, then. You will forgive, and he will forget the rest.”
She was silent a moment, and then she said very earnestly, “How I wish that the end was to-day!”
“As all sensible men wish it. To-day or to-morrow, what does it matter? We have done enough for an idea. The rest is a cheap love for heroics.”
She turned to him smiling.