To-day it was as gray and
peaceful, its houses as aloof and haughty as if war had never been. It was
a false impression, however, for it was the paralysis of war it expressed,
not even the normal peace of a dull provincial town.
"I've often wondered about you," said Alexina. "But I've been working with
the French Army and had no way of finding out. You don't look as if you had
been wounded."
"Nary scratch, and in the thick of it. My, but it's good to sec you again."
He stared at her, his face flushed and his breath short. Then he asked
abruptly: "When do you think we're goin' home?"
Alexina laughed merrily. "That is the first question every officer or
private I have met since the Armistice has asked me. I should feel greatly
flattered, but I fancy the question, being always on the top of your minds,
simply babbles off."
"You bet. But--Jimminy! I'm glad to see you. You're lookin' thin, though.
Been workin', too, I'll bet."
"Oh, yes--and all your old class has worked; most of them over here. Mrs.
Cheever couldn't come, as her husband is in the army. But she's worked hard
in California."
"I believe you. The women have come up to the scratch, no doubt of that.
Although some of them! Good Lord! This isn't my usual language when
speaking of them. But if some came over to do just about as they damn
please, the others strike the balance, and on the whole I think more of
women than I did.
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