"Don't do that," she said, as though the least tenderness toward herself
at such a moment would unnerve her, melt away all her fortitude.

Everybody had said he was brave, the head nurse, the day nurse, the
night nurse, the woman who brought in the meals, the woman who scrubbed
the floor. All this had kept her up. If anybody paid any kind of tribute
to him, realized in any way what he was, this was life to her.

After the doctor left, as the nurse was with him, she walked up and down
the halls, too restless to be quiet.

At the end of one hall she could look down on the fragrant leafy park.
Yes, summer was nigh. Where a little while before had been only white
blossoms, there were fewer white now, more pink, some red, many to match
the yellow of the sun. The whole hillside of swaying; boughs seemed to
quiver with happiness. Her eyes wandered farther down to the row of
houses at the foot of the park. She could see the dreadful spot on the
street, the horrible spot. She could see her shattered window-panes up
above. The points of broken glass still seemed to slit the flesh of her
hands within their bandages.

She shrank back and walked to the end of the transverse hall. Across the
road was the cathedral. The morning service was just over. People were
pouring out through the temporary side doors and the temporary front
doors so placidly, so contentedly! Some were evidently strangers; as
they reached the outside they turned and studied the cathedral curiously
as those who had never before seen it. Others turned and looked at it
familiarly, with pride in its unfolding form. Some stopped and looked
down at the young grass, stroking it with the toes of their fine shoes;