I thought that more than once while I went round with them in Ruth's big car late that afternoon. How do you tell work from play when both are the right kind? How do we know that some day play won't be only just the happiest kind of work, done joyful and together?
"I guess you're going to miss this kind of work when Red Cross stops," I said to them.
Ruth is tall and powerful and sure, and she drives as if it was only one of the things she knows about.
"Miss it?" she said. "We'll be lost—simply. What we're going to do I don't know."
"We've been some use in the world," said Clare, "and now we've got to go back to being nothing but happy."
"We'll have to play bridge five nights a week to keep from being bored to tears," says Irene—that is pretty but she thinks with her scalp and no more.
Ruth, that's the prettiest of them all, she shook her head.
"We can't go back to that," she said. "At least, I won't go back to that. But what I'm going on to do I don't know."
What were they going on to do? That was what I kept wondering all the while we gathered up the finishing touches of what we wanted for the stage that night.
"Now the Greek flag," said Ruth finally. "Mis' Sykes said we could get that at Mis' Poulaki's."