Girl. [With a movement of recovery] Oh! nothing.  The beautiful evening-that’s all.

Young off. [Looking at her] Cheer up!

Girl. [Taking of hat and veil; her hair is yellowish and crinkly] Cheer up!  You are not lonelee, like me.

Young off. [Limping to the window—­doubtfully] I say, how did you how did you get into this?  Isn’t it an awfully hopeless sort of life?

Girl.  Yees, it ees.  You haf been wounded?

Young off.  Just out of hospital to-day.

Girl.  The horrible war—­all the misery is because of the war.  When will it end?

Young off. [Leaning against the window-sill, looking at her attentively] I say, what nationality are you?

Girl. [With a quick look and away] Rooshian.

Young off.  Really!  I never met a Russian girl. [The girl gives him another quick look] I say, is it as bad as they make out?

Girl. [Slipping her hand through his arm] Not when I haf anyone as ni-ice as you; I never haf had, though. [She smiles, and her smile, like her speech, is slow and confining] You stopped because I was sad, others stop because I am gay.  I am not fond of men at all.  When you know—­you are not fond of them.

Young off.  Well, you hardly know them at their best, do you?  You should see them in the trenches.  By George!  They’re simply splendid—­officers and men, every blessed soul.  There’s never been anything like it—­just one long bit of jolly fine self-sacrifice; it’s perfectly amazing.

Girl. [Turning her blue-grey eyes on him] I expect you are not the last at that.  You see in them what you haf in yourself, I think.

Young off.  Oh, not a bit; you’re quite out!  I assure you when we made the attack where I got wounded there wasn’t a single man in my regiment who wasn’t an absolute hero.  The way they went in—­never thinking of themselves—­it was simply ripping.

Girl. [In a queer voice] It is the same too, perhaps, with—­the enemy.

Young off.  Oh, yes!  I know that.

Girl.  Ah!  You are not a mean man.  How I hate mean men!

Young off.  Oh! they’re not mean really—­they simply don’t understand.

Girl.  Oh!  You are a babee—­a good babee aren’t you?

     [The young officer doesn’t like this, and frowns.  The girl
     looks a little scared.]

Girl. [Clingingly] But I li-ke you for it.  It is so good to find a ni-ice man.

Young off. [Abruptly] About being lonely?  Haven’t you any Russian friends?

Girl. [Blankly] Rooshian?  No. [Quickly] The town is so beeg.  Were you at the concert before you spoke to me?