"Oh no! You ——, to water the plants with, of course!"
"I was only asking, sir."
"All right, Corp'ral. Can't you see I'm a little upset this morning?"
They carried him on to the Clearing Hospital in a motor Ambulance, and deposited him in the hall of a little estaminet that had been turned into an Officer's Hospital.
A Doctor and Sister were conversing in low tones outside a closed door.
"I'm afraid there are all the symptoms of enteric," she was saying.
Neither of them took the slightest notice of him. But he was getting used to being carried about and never spoken to, like a piece of furniture. And the Sister entranced him. The Clearing Hospitals were the nearest places to the fighting-line that women could aspire to. He had not seen an English lady since leaving England. And her waist pleased him. Such few French peasant women had any waists at all. And her voice was higher-pitched; more intellectual, if less poetic.
When the two of them had quite finished discussing their "case" she called for an Orderly, and without so much as looking at him, said, "Put that one in there," indicating another door. Another Orderly was fetched, and the painful business of hauling him off the stretcher on to a bed began once more.
The novelty of his surroundings occupied his mind. The bed was soft, and his spine ceased to ache. A feeling almost akin to contentment stole over him, as they left him in the clean, cool bed. His companion without the throat had been put in another room. There was only one more bed in this one, and the occupant was sleeping peacefully.