I found her one evening before supper leaning over the fence, gazing across the long flat field, pale gold in the dusk with the hills like grey clouds beyond it.
"They tell me," she said, turning to me, "that we may be another fortnight like this." "Yes," I said, "it's quite possible, or even longer.

We can't provide wounded and battles for you if there aren't any." "But there are!" she cried.

"Isn't the whole of Europe fighting and isn't it simply disgusting of us to be sitting down here, eating and sleeping, just as though we were in a _dacha_ in the country?
At least in the hospital in Petrograd I was working ...

here...." "We've got to stick to our Division," I answered.

"They can't have it in reserve very long.