"My father is very strict about letting me intrude into the soldier's houses--he says it's impertinent to force one's self in, but I know if you ask me to go to see Mrs.
Lawrence my father will think it quite right." The Colonel stood firmly by his chaplain, who was a man after his own heart, and that very afternoon Anita went to Mrs.Lawrence's quarters.
The door was opened by the little boy, Ronald, whom Anita knew, as everybody else did.

The girl's heart beat as she entered the narrow passage-way in which she had seen Broussard and Mrs.Lawrence standing together, and it beat more as she walked into the little sitting-room, where Mrs.Lawrence sat in an arm chair at the window.

She was evidently ill, and the knitting she was trying to do had fallen from her listless hand.
The Colonel's daughter was much embarrassed, but the private soldier's wife was all coolness and composure.
"The chaplain asked me to come to see you," said Anita, standing irresolute, not knowing whether to stay or to go.
"Thank you and thank the chaplain also," replied Mrs.Lawrence.

Then she courteously offered Anita a seat.
Anita had meant to ask if Mrs.Lawrence needed anything, but she found herself as unable to say this to Mrs.Lawrence as to any officer's wife.

All she could do was to pick up the knitting and say: "Perhaps you will let me finish this for you.