She did not see the sulky young fellow who had followed her.
Lane could have laughed aloud.

He read the shallow souls of these older girls.

They could not help their instincts and he had learned that it was instinctive with women to become emotional over soldiers.
Bessy Bell was a child.

Hero-worship shone from her speaking eyes.
Whatever other young men might be to her, no one of them could compare with a soldier.
The situation had its pathos, its tragedy, and its gratification for Lane.

He saw clearly, and felt with the acuteness of a woman.