"She's not that kind of a girl." "Ah, who knows!" said the doctor.

"Who knows!" At the railway station, the battalion was halted, awaiting the making up of their train, the departure of which was delayed by the incoming hospital train from up the line.

They had not long to wait.
"Here she is, boys!" called out a soldier.

And into the station slowly rolled that hospital train, with its freight of wounded men, mutilated, maimed, broken.

Its windows were crowded with faces, white as their swathings, worn, spent, deep-lined, from which looked forth eyes, indifferent, staring, but undaunted and indomitable.
Gradually, with stately movement, as befitted its noble burden, the train came to rest immediately opposite the battalion.