"Sit down ... right here!"
"Sure."
As she medicated and bandaged his leg they talked about Chuck's blindness, when and how it happened; she had to attend other wounded, but Orville was able to give her details.
For an hour or more the blitz thundered over the city, damaging buildings on Dalton Street, reverberating, flinging dust and sewer stench. Orville hated the place, this Red Cross hive of death.
"I've got to check in," he said, after the hell had died down; yet next day he was back, bringing her a potted azalea.
Here comes America ... here's somebody who knew Chuck ... somebody who cares ... tell me ...
"I've been thinking how we met," she said, as they walked.
"Yeah ... bad place."
She agreed.
"Better forget it," he said.