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    Also he hated the thought of her mixing either with city clerks or young medical students. They were a coarse lot, and she would certainly meet with all kinds of beastly advances. In imagination he could hear the men at the hospital talking about her among themselves, and his face burnt with anger, first at the intolerable familiarities of his hypothetical students, and then with himself for thinking these thoughts in connection with her. Still she would know how to protect herself. No one could be more aloof and cold than she was sometimes. If that warm generosity of hers did not betray her? Those silly young fools at the hospital would not understand. They.... He found a relief in mentally cursing the particular type of young medical student he had all too vividly pictured. He saw himself taking one of them by the throat and choking the life out of him.



    "Wasn't the schoolmaster, poor feckless critter, allays buzzed in th' heed wi' book-larnin' and troubles o' all sorts? No bittle as iver flew war blinder, nor deafer, than my poor owd master in matters what didn't concern him!"

    [Pg 92]

    "'Good luck to the boat that is at sea and to the breeze that is blowing, and to the hearts that are waiting for the Coming of the Prince!'" I answered, turning it into such English as I might.



    “Simon was an inimitable banjo player and improvised his songs, making humorous hits at everybody; even General Jackson did not escape him. Indeed, no man was his superior in repartee.

    If Franklin had been desperate, what could Hood do now, with the heart of them dead in his brave men, with sorrow in their hearts for comrades who slept in trenches under the sod of Franklin, and beloved commanders who, now being dust, were but a week before pictured forever between the sky and the bastions of steel as they rode over the breastworks to death? Even in the heart of the starved and the hardened lives memory—and what memory must have been theirs in the sleet and cold of those bitter December nights, while waiting for Thomas to come forth from his warmth and food to give battle. If Franklin had been a desperate case, was not this worse—the combined forces of Thomas and Schofield, Smith and Steedman? Anyone but Hood would have stopped and thought, but Hood never thought.

    And to my surprise, these men, who were wont to smell an insult afar off, and whose courage in the field was unquestioned, received this intolerable tirade as quietly as school-boys after a whipping—and so the matter rested, and they went their way and we ours.

    He put up his hand to his head which was burning and throbbing with fever, and tried to control his wandering senses. He wanted to speak and tell Trixie not to be frightened. He was vaguely aware that she feared his reproaches, his anger; on her arrival her face and her voice had betrayed it, and she had trembled, poor child, as he helped her out of the dog-cart. He wanted to ask her easily, gently, where she had been, what had happened, with natural intonation, to make her believe that whatever she told him, of course he should quite understand. Instead he knew he was saying something entirely different, and he found himself powerless to prevent it. Trixie looked dim, indistinct, and her voice sounded far away, at the other end of the compound.




    "I know that for certain," Arthur affirmed.


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