‘You are doing much more than I am. You are in it, not outside,
like me.’
Mollie said:
‘Yes. I am sorry for you, Helen. It must be terrible for you
to be outside, and not able to help. Of course you can’t,’ she
added quickly, ‘your work is just as important really, more perhaps,’
and she smiled her delightful smile that was like George’s.
‘I feel,’ she went on earnestly, ‘that I can never do enough,
if I worked myself to the bone, when I think what the men out
there are going through already; what is waiting for George,
and Guy, and Hugo, when they go out. It seems horrible to me
to sit safe at home when they go, just nursing in a hospital.’