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Men in War by Andreas Latzko
page 120 of 139 (86%)
contrast between the high-spirited, forward lad, who on this spot had
sung out a last hoarse farewell to his sweetheart, Marcsa, on the first
day of mobilization, and the disfigured creature who was standing in
front of the same railroad station with one eye gone, a shattered
cheekbone, a patched-up cheek, and half a nose, embittered and cast
down, as if it were only that morning that he had met with the
misfortune.

At the small grille gate stood the wife of the station-guard, Kovacs--
since the beginning of the war Kovacs himself had been somewhere on the
Russian front--talking and holding the ticket-puncher, impatiently
waiting for the last passenger to pass through. John Bogdan saw her, and
his heart began to beat so violently that he involuntarily lingered at
each step. Would she recognize him, or would she not? His knee joints
gave way as if they had suddenly decayed, and his hand trembled as he
held out the ticket.

She took the ticket and let him pass through--without a word!

Poor John Bogdan's breath stopped short.

But he pulled himself together with all his might, looked her firmly in
the face with his one eye and said, with a painful effort to steady his
voice:

"How do you do?"

"How do you do?" the woman rejoined. He encountered her eyes, saw them
widen into a stare, saw them grope over his mangled face, and then
quickly turn in another direction, as if she could not bear the sight.
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