like to work in a ’ospital; I would like to go and ’elp poor boys like you.  Because I am a German they would throw me out a ’undred times, even if I was good.  It is the same in Germany, in France, in Russia, everywhere.  But do you think I will believe in Love and Christ and God and all that—­Not I!  I think we are animals —­that’s all!  Oh, yes! you fancy it is because my life has spoiled me.  It is not that at all—­that is not the worst thing in life.  The men I take are not ni-ice, like you, but it’s their nature; and—­they help me to live, which is something for me, anyway.  No, it is the men who think themselves great and good and make the war with their talk and their hate, killing us all—­killing all the boys like you, and keeping poor People in prison, and telling us to go on hating; and all these dreadful cold-blood creatures who write in the papers —­the same in my country—­just the same; it is because of all of them that I think we are only animals.

     [The young Officer gets up, acutely miserable.]

     [She follows him with her eyes.]

Girl.  Don’t mind me talkin’, ni-ice boy.  I don’t know anyone to talk to.  If you don’t like it, I can be quiet as a mouse.

Young off.  Oh, go on!  Talk away; I’m not obliged to believe you, and I don’t.

     [She, too, is on her feet now, leaning against the wall; her
     dark dress and white face just touched by the slanting
     moonlight.  Her voice comes again, slow and soft and bitter.]

Girl.  Well, look here, ni-ice boy, what sort of world is it, where millions are being tortured, for no fault of theirs, at all?  A beautiful world, isn’t it?  ’Umbog!  Silly rot, as you boys call it.  You say it is all “Comrades” and braveness out there at the front, and people don’t think of themselves.  Well, I don’t think of myself veree much.  What does it matter?  I am lost now, anyway.  But I think of my people at ’ome; how they suffer and grieve.  I think of all the poor people there, and here, how lose those they love, and all the poor prisoners.  Am I not to think of them?  And if I do, how am I to believe it a beautiful world, ni-ice boy?

     [He stands very still, staring at her.]

Girl.  Look here!  We haf one life each, and soon it is over.  Well, I think that is lucky.

Young off.  No!  There’s more than that.

Girl. [Softly] Ah!  You think the war is fought for the future; you are giving your lives for a better world, aren’t you?

Young off.  We must fight till we win.

Girl.  Till you win.  My people think that too.  All the peoples think that if they win the world will be better.  But it will not, you know; it will be much worse, anyway.

     [He turns away from her, and catches up his cap.  Her voice
     follows him.]