ly she were
not German!

"You see!" he heard her say, and could only mutter:

"I'm sure there _are_ people."

"No. They would not take a German, even if she was good. Besides, I
don't want to be good any more--I am not a humbug--I have learned to be
bad. Aren't you going to kees me, ni-ice boy?"

She put her face close to his. Her eyes troubled him, but he drew back.
He thought she would be offended or persistent, but she was neither;
just looked at him fixedly with a curious inquiring stare; and he leaned
against the window, deeply disturbed. It was as if all clear and simple
enthusiasm had been suddenly knocked endways; as if a certain splendour
of life that he had felt and seen of late had been dipped in cloud. Out
there at the front, over here in hospital, life had been seeming so--as
it were--heroic; and yet it held such mean and murky depths as well! The
voices of his men, whom he had come to love like brothers, crude burring
voices, cheery in trouble, making nothing of it; the voices of doctors
and nurses, patient, quiet, reassuring voices; even his own voice,
infected by it all, kept sounding in his ears. All wonderful somehow,
and simple; and nothing mean about it anywhere! And now so suddenly to
have lighted upon this, and all that was behind it--this scared girl,
this base, dark, thoughtless use of her! And the thought came to him: "I
suppose my fellows wouldn't think twice about taking her on! Why! I'm
not even certain of myself, if she insists!" And he turned his face, and
stared out at the moonlight. He heard her voice:

"Eesn't it light? No air raid to-night. When the Zepps burned--what a
horrible death! And all the people cheered--it is natural. Do you hate
us veree much?"

He turned round and said sharply:

"Hate? I don't know."

"I don't hate even the English--I despise them. I despise my people
too--perhaps more, because they began this war. Oh, yes! I know that. I
despise all the peoples. Why haf they made the world so miserable--why
haf they killed all our lives--hundreds and thousands and millions of
lives--all for not'ing? They haf made a bad world--everybody hating, and
looking for the worst everywhere. They haf made me bad, I know. I
believe no more in anything. What is there to believe in? Is there a
God? No! Once I was teaching little English children their
prayers--isn't that funnee? I was reading to them about Christ and love.
I believed all those things. Now I believe not'ing at a