“But others were different. Beasts or not, they were human. They had eyes to see and to smile, lips to talk and tempt. It was their human nature which broke some of our hatred. There were young men among them, and in Lille girls who could be angry for a time, disdainful longer, and then friendly. I mean lonely, half-starved girls, weak, miserable girls—and others not starved enough to lose their passion and need of love. German boys and French girls—entangled in the net of fate.... God pity them!”
Brand said, “I pity them, too.”
He walked over to the piano and made an abrupt request, as though to change the subject of conversation.
“Sing something... something English!”
Eileen O’Connor sang something Irish first, and I liked her deep voice, so low and sweet.
“There’s one that is pure as an angel
And fair as the flowers of May,
They call her the gentle maiden
Wherever she takes her way.
Her eyes have the glance of sunlight