The others suffered the sting of the iodine without a word, walking off when they were bandaged, or carried by our sanitars on the stretchers, still with that look of wonder and trust in their eyes.
And how glad we were when there was any work to do! The sun rose high in the sky, the morning advanced, Semyonov and Andrey Vassilievitch did not return.

For the greater part of the time we did not speak, nor move.

I was conscious of an increasing rage against the battery.

I felt that if it was to cease I might observe, be interested, feel excitement--as it was, it kept everything from me.

It kept everything from me because it insistently demanded my attention, like a vulgar garrulous neighbour who persists in his tiresome story.