"He's always chattering." "All who spoke to me praised you," she observed.

"Your colonel said: 'He does not understand what fear is.

He is absolutely fearless.'" "My colonel has been misinformed, Sister.

I am intelligent enough to be afraid--philosopher enough to realise that it doesn't help me.

So nowadays I just go ahead." "Trusting in God," she murmured.
He did not answer.
"Is it not true, soldier ?" But the fever was again transfiguring her into the shape of Ailsa Paige, and he remained shyly silent, fearing to disturb the vision--yet knowing vaguely that it was one.
She sighed; later, in silence, she repeated some Credos and Hail Marys, her eyes fixed on space, the heavy cannonade dinning in her ears.