ng,
rattled-brained women and girls who lie in wait for soldiers at
every corner, so to speak. All these, to be sure, may be
unconsciously actuated by motives that do not appear on the surface;
and if this be true, their actions are less bold, less raw than they
look.

What I want to dwell upon is my impression of something strange,
unbalanced, incomprehensible, about the frank conduct of so many
well-educated, refined, and good women I see; and about the
eagerness, restlessness, the singular response of nice girls to
situations that are not natural.

To-night a handsome, stylishly gowned woman of about thirty came up
to me with a radiant smile and a strange brightness in her eyes.
There were five hundred couples dancing on the floor, and the music
and sound of sliding feet made it difficult to hear her. She said:
"You handsome soldier boy! Come dance with me?" I replied politely
that I did not dance. Then she took hold of me and said, "I'll teach
you." I saw a wedding-ring on the hand she laid on my arm. Then I
looked straight at her, "Madam, very soon I'll be learning the dance
of death over in France, and my mind's concerned with that." She
grew red with anger. She seemed amazed. And she snapped, "Well, you
_are_ a queer soldier!" Later I watched her flirting and dancing
with an officer.

Overtures and advances innumerable have been made to me, ranging
from the assured possession-taking onslaught like this woman's to
the slight, subtle something, felt more than seen, of a more complex
nature. And, Lenore, I blush to tell you this, but I've been mobbed
by girls. They have a thousand ways of letting a soldier _know!_ I
could not begin to tell them. But I do not actually realize what it
is that is conveyed, that I know; and I am positive the very large
majority of soldiers _misunderstand_. At night I listen to the talks
of my comrades, and, well--if the girls only heard! Many times I go
out of hearing, and when I cannot do that I refuse to hear.

Lenore, I am talking about nice girls now. I am merciless. There are
many girls like you--they seem like you, though none so pretty. I
mean, you know, there are certain manners and distinctions that at
once mark a really nice girl. For a month I've been thrown here and
there, so that it seems I've seen as many girls as soldiers.