nurse.

She nodded, her tonsils squeezed together in an absolute knot.

"He called for you all through his delirium," he said, and went out. She
stood at the bedside, trying to keep down the screams from her speech
when it should come. But he was too quick for her.

"Hester," he said, feeling out.

And in their embrace, her agony melted to tears that choked and seared,
beat and scalded her, and all the time it was he who held her with rigid
arm, whispered to her, soothed down the sobs which tore through her like
the rip of silk, seeming to split her being.

"Now--now! Why, Hester! Now--now--now! Sh-h! It will be over in a
minute. You mustn't feel badly. Come now, is this the way to greet a
fellow that's so darn glad to see you that nothing matters? Why I can
see you, Hester. Plain as day in your little crispy waist. Now, now!
You'll get used to it in a minute. Now--now--"

"I can't stand it, Gerald! I can't! Can't! Kill me, Gerald, but don't
ask me to stand it!"

He stroked down the side of her, lingering at her cheek.

"Sh-h! Take your time, dear," he said, with the first furry note in his
voice. "I know it's hard, but take your time. You'll get used to me.
It's the shock, that's all. Sh-h!"

She covered his neck with kisses and scalding tears, her compassion for
him racing through her in chills.

"I could tear out my eyes, Gerald, and give them to you. I could tear
out my heart and give it to you. I'm bursting of pain. Gerald! Gerald!"

There was no sense of proportion left her. She could think only of what
her own physical suffering might do in penance. She would willingly have
opened the arteries of her heart and bled for him on the moment. Her
compassion wanted to scream. She, who had never sacrificed anything,
wanted suddenly to bleed at his feet, and prayed to do so on the
agonized crest of the moment.

"There's a girl! Why, I'm going to get well, Hester, and do what
thousands of others of the blinded are doing. Build up a new, a useful,
and a busy life."

"It's not fair! It's not fair!"

"I'm ready now, except for this old left lung. It's burnt a bit, you
see--gas."

"God! God!"

"It's pretty bad, I admit. But there's another way of looking at it.
There's a glory in being chosen to bear your country's wounds."

"Your beautiful eyes! Your blue, beautiful eyes! O God, what does it
all mean? Living! Dying! All the rotters, all the rat-eyed ones I know,
scot-free and Gerald chosen. God! God! wh