understands me all right--she knows me for a mean little selfish
slacker who is going to have a good time no matter what it costs. I
have been like a bad kid that eats the jam when the house is burning!
But remember this, I'm no fool, and I'm not going to kid myself into
thinking it is anything to be proud of, for it isn't."

Sergeant Brown sat up straight and regarded her critically. "What have
you done," he said, "that she should call you down for it? You're
young and pretty and these old hens are jealous of you. They can't
raise a good time themselves and they're sore on you because all the
men are crazy about you."

"Gee, you're mean," Mrs. Tweed retorted, "to talk that way about women
who are giving up everything for their country. Mrs. Kent's two boys
are in the trenches, actually fighting, not just parading round in
uniform like you. She goes every day and works in the office of the
Red Cross and tries to keep every tangle straightened out. She's not
jealous of me--she despises me for a little feather-brained pinhead.
She thinks I am even worse than I am. She thinks I am as bad as you
would like me to be! Naturally enough, she judges me by my company."

Sergeant Brown's face flushed dull red, but she went on: "That woman
is all right--take it from me."

"Well, don't get sore on me," he said quickly; "I'm not the one who
is turning you down. I've always stuck up for you and you know it!"

"Why shouldn't you?" she cried. "You know well that I am straight,
even if I am a fool. These women are out of patience with me and my
class----"