"Is he dead?
is he dead ?" she asked distractedly.

"I've just come from the village.

Why didn't you send for me?
Tell me, is he dead?
Oh, tell me at once!" She caught the Regimental Surgeon's arm.

He looked down at her, over his glasses, benignly, for she had always been a favourite of his, and answered: "Alive, alive, my dear.

Bad rip in the shoulder--worn out--weak--shattered--but good for a while yet--yes, yes--certainement!" With a wayward impulse, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.