Girl. [Peering at him] Another man said that to me.  But he was thinkin’ of his fun.  You are a veree ni-ice boy; I am so glad I met you.  You see the good in people, don’t you?  That is the first thing in the world—­because—­there is really not much good in people, you know.

Young off. [Smiling] You are a dreadful little cynic!  But of course you are!

Girl.  Cyneec?  How long do you think I would live if I was not a cyneec?  I should drown myself to-morrow.  Perhaps there are good people, but, you see, I don’t know them.

Young off.  I know lots.

Girl. [Leaning towards him] Well now—­see, ni-ice boy—­you haf never been in a hole, haf you?

Young off.  I suppose not a real hole.

Girl.  No, I should think not, with your face.  Well, suppose I am still a good girl, as I was once, you know; and you took me to your mother and your sisters and you said:  “Here is a little German girl that has no work, and no money, and no friends.”  They will say:  “Oh! how sad!  A German girl!” And they will go and wash their hands.

     [The officer, is silent, staring at her.]

Girl.  You see.

Young off. [Muttering] I’m sure there are people.

Girl.  No.  They would not take a German, even if she was good.  Besides, I don’t want to be good any more—­I am not a humbug; I have learned to be bad.  Aren’t you going to kees me, ni-ice boy?

She puts her face close to his.  Her eyes trouble him; he draws back.

Young off.  Don’t.  I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. [She looks at him fixedly, with a curious inquiring stare] It’s stupid.  I don’t know—­but you see, out there, and in hospital, life’s different.  It’s—­it’s—­it isn’t mean, you know.  Don’t come too close.

Girl.  Oh!  You are fun——­[She stops] Eesn’t it light.  No Zeps to-night.  When they burn—­what a ’orrble death!  And all the people cheer.  It is natural.  Do you hate us veree much?

Young off. [Turning sharply] Hate?  I don’t know.

Girl.  I don’t hate even the English—­I despise them.  I despise my people too; even more, because they began this war.  Oh!  I know that.  I despise all the peoples.  Why haf they made the world so miserable —­why haf they killed all our lives—­hundreds and thousands and millions of lives—­all for noting?  They haf made a bad world—­ everybody hating, and looking for the worst everywhere.  They haf made me bad, I know.  I believe no more in anything.  What is there to believe in?  Is there a God?  No!  Once I was teaching little English children their prayers—­isn’t that funnee?  I was reading to them about Christ and love.  I believed all those things.  Now I believe noting at all—­no one who is not a fool or a liar can believe.  I would