Without looking at me, she said, "I—I stay here." She stood close, close to the hole and looked at the little pine box, and said again, quite quietly, "I stay here."
I said, "You cannot stay," stupidly, as if we were discussing any ordinary coming or going.
Her little sister, pulling at her skirt, said, "Say then, ask thou the lady to let thee go to supper at the cantine."
"The cantine is for those who have babies," Alice answered. Then she looked at me for the first time, her great wild eyes, in her face that was stained and streaked where the black from the wet crape had run.
FOOTNOTE:
[7] All numerals relate to stories told herein—not to chapters in the book.
"PRISONER OF WAR"—A SOLDIER'S TALES OF THE ARMY
From the Battlefield to the Camp