doctor is as good as killing a dozen men. It's all very scientific,
this German warfare--scientific and fanatical; Nietzsche and Mahomet,
what a perfect alliance it is between the Kaiser and the Sultan."

Then it came to us again that Germans, on seas, in submarines,
in air, in their planes bombing hospitals, and on land, looting
and dynamiting villages--in all their martial enterprises, think
unlike the rest of civilized men. They are a breed apart--savage,
material-minded, diabolic, unrestrained by fear or love of God,
man or devil. We talked of these things for a time; but something,
the quiet beauty of the garden maybe, took the edge off our hate.
And gradually it became apparent to me, at least, that the Young
Doctor was marking time until we should have the sense to tell him
something of the Eager Soul. What did he care for the war? For the
Prussians? For their Babylonian philosophy? For his wounded hand?
What were gardens made for in this drab earth, if not for sanctuaries
of lovers? One does not go to a garden to hate, to buy, or sell, to
fight, to philosophize, but to adore something or someone, somehow
or somewhere. And the Young Doctor was in his Holy Temple, and we
knew it. So Henry asked: "You received your letter?" And when he
thanked us for our trouble, Henry asked again: "Did she tell you
that the Gilded Youth was there at her hospital?"

"Only in a pencilled postscript after she had decided to send the
letter to me by you," answered the Doctor.

That sounded good to me. Evidently she had written to the Young
Doctor before the Gilded Youth had appeared. Also presumably she
had not written to the Gilded Youth. If she had written to him
after the air raid that had killed the head nurse, it would indicate