Some day Eugenia would learn that it takes all manner of men and women to make a world. And that there are worthwhile people and things that do not come from Boston. “He was in the face of the enemy’s fire when a shell exploded under his horse,” Lieutenant Hume explained. “He and the horse were shot twenty feet in the air. When they came down to earth again there was an immense hole in the ground beneath them and both man and horse were plunged into it. Rather like having one’s grave dug ahead of time, isn’t it?” [45] [45] Nona nodded, leaning across from her seat in the cab with her golden brown eyes darkening with excitement and her hands clasped tight together in her lap. Eugenia kept her eyes upon her even while giving her attention to the narrative. Personally she considered Nona unusually pretty and attractive and the idea worried her now and then. For there were to be no romances if she could prevent them while the four American Red Cross girls were in Europe. If they wished such undesirable possessions as husbands they must wait and marry their own countrymen. “But Captain Castaigne was not hurt? So he still managed to carry the messages to his General?” Nona demanded. She was much interested in getting the details of the story before seeing its hero again. Robert Hume was talking quietly. Nevertheless it was self-evident that he was only pretending to his casual tone. “Of course Captain Castaigne was injured. There would have been no reason why any notice should have been taken of him if he had only done his ordinary duty.[46] Fact is, when he crawled out he was covered with blood and nearly dead. The horse was killed outright and Henri almost so. Nevertheless he managed to run on foot under heavy fire to headquarters with his message. No one knows how he accomplished it and he knows least of all. He simply is the kind of fellow who does the thing he starts out to do. We Anglo-Saxons don’t always understand the iron purpose under the charm and good looks these French fellows have. But fortunately we don’t often use cavalrymen now for carrying despatches. Motor cars do the work better when there is no telephone connection.” [46] “Yes, and I’m truly glad,” Nona murmured softly. She was thinking of how many gallant young cavalry officers both in France and England those first terrible months of
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