It was one noonday. He had been down to the tribunal and his case had
been again adjourned. She was returning from a lecture, and, crossing a
street in the neighbourhood of the docks, found herself suddenly faced by
an oncoming crowd. It was yelping and snarling, curiously suggestive of
a pack of hungry wolves. A couple of young soldiers were standing back
against a wall.
"Better not go on, nurse," said one of them. "It's some poor devil of a
Conchy, I expect. Must have a damned sight more pluck than I should."
It was the fear that had been haunting her. She did not know how white
she had turned.
"I think it is someone I know," she said. "Won't you help me?"
The crowd gave way to them, and they had all but reached him. He was
hatless and bespattered, but his tender eyes had neither fear nor anger
in them. She reached out her arms and called to him. Another step and
she would have been beside him, but at the moment a slim, laughing girl
darted in front of him and slipped her foot between his legs and he went
down.
She heard the joyous yell and the shrill laughter as she struggled wildly
to force her way to him.
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