For a moment silence came down between them. John was drinking coffee
with an air of being alone in the room, pretending that he hadn't heard
and didn't see her.

"John--I didn't mind driving that car. I knew I could do it and I did it.
I won't say I didn't mind the shelling, because I did. Still, shelling's
all in the day's work. And I didn't mind your sending me, because I'd
rather have gone myself than let you go. I don't want you to be killed.
Somehow that's still the one thing I couldn't bear. But if you'd sent
Gwinnie I'd have killed you."

"I didn't send Gwinnie. I gave you your chance. I knew you wanted to cut
Mrs. Rankin out."

"I? I never thought of such a rotten thing."

"Well, you talked about danger as if you liked it."

"So did you."

"Oh--_go_ to hell."

"I've just come from there."

"Oh--so you were frightened, were you?"

"Yes, I was horribly frightened. I had thirteen wounded men with me. What
do you suppose it feels like, driving a heavy ambulance car by yourself?
You can't sit in front and steer and look after thirteen wounded men at