Charlotte."

As she crossed the road a shell fell in the open field beyond, and burst,
throwing up a great splash and spray of brown earth. She stiffened
herself in an abrupt gesture of defiance. Her mind retorted: "You've
missed, that time. You needn't think I'm going to put myself out for
_you_." To show that she wasn't putting herself out (in case they should
be looking) she strolled with dignity to her car, selected carefully the
kind of splint she needed, and returned. She thought: Oh well--supposing
they _do_ hit. We must get those men out before another comes.

John looked up as she came to him. His face glistened with pinheads of
sweat; he panted in the choking air.

"Where did that shell burst?"

"Miles away."

"Are you certain?"

"Rather."

She lied. Why not? John had been lying all the time. Lying was part of
their defiance, a denial that the enemy's effort had succeeded. Nothing
mattered but the fixing of the splints and the carrying of the men....

John was cranking up the engine when she turned back into the house.

"I _say_, what are you doing?"