_A Dispute_
“I am not a German spy,” the young man announced, half resentfully and
half in a tone of amusement, as he rose up from the ground and faced
Nona Davis.
“Yes, of course you thought I was one for the moment. Everybody is
obsessed with this same idea out here and are all on the lookout, but I
happen to be an American newspaper writer. If you would like to see my
credentials I carry them about with me, because I grant you my behavior
may now and then appear suspicious.”
Rather to Nona’s chagrin her unknown companion was openly laughing over
her confusion at his immediate interpretation of her first impression.
He was a tall, slender fellow, not a bit good looking, with a thin
face, a large nose and humorous eyes. Yet he had a fine mouth with
strong white teeth, which Nona immediately noticed as he laughed at her.
“You see, I have been in Europe, in one country and another, almost
ever since this war began and I have seen a lot of this barbed wire
work, so I was interested to find out how well our American boys were
learning the business. They have done a good job. I beg your pardon,
but do you think it particularly safe for you to be walking alone in
this neighborhood at this hour? If you don’t mind I’ll walk along back
to the hospital with you.”
With apparent gravity Nona stood listening to her latest acquaintance.
Now that she saw him more distinctly, he was so absolutely of the type
one would expect him to be that it was scarcely necessary that he
should present his literary credentials.
“This is the second time in the last quarter of an hour that this same
warning about walking alone has been given me,” Nona answered, trying
to appear demure, but in realty rather surprised at the unexpected
feeling of friendliness, which this brief conversation with an entire
stranger had inspired in her.
It is curious how frequently a man’s profession affects his appearance.
The young man before Nona had a slight stoop to his shoulders, or else
it was only that his head was thrust the slightest bit forward, as
though his ideas went always a little beyond the movement of his body.
Then his eyes were keen as well as humorous and his forehead broad and
intellectual.
“You are very kind,” Nona returned, “but really I am not in the least
nervous and I--”
“You don’t know me, do you? And I may be more dangerous than anybody or
anything you might meet along the way. Was that what you were about to
say? I don’t believe I had thought of that. Of course I recognize you
as one of the nurses at the American hospitals which Madame Castaigne
has in charge. I know her, or at least I know her slightly. She is
rather splendid, isn’t she? As a matter of fact, the American newspaper
correspondents have had a château turned over to their use not far
from the American camp. Just at present I am sending a little story
of our Expeditionary Force back to the papers each day. It is rather
difficult writing, since we are not allowed to tell anything that is
worth while.”
Nona was hardly aware that she and her companion had, by this time,
turned and were walking along side by side in the direction from which
she had just come. She had certainly never given her consent to being
accompanied by him, although neither had she refused it.
But she was entertained. It might be disloyalty and one would never
confess it aloud, but Nona was interested to talk occasionally to
some man who was not a soldier. It was not that military men were not
interesting, but merely that one enjoyed variety. She could scarcely
imagine a soldier with the unfortunate stoop this young man had, nor
with his unconventional manner.
Yet, almost instantly, Nona had felt that she liked him, although she
did not ordinarily enjoy too great unconventionality. This was probably
due to her southern rearing.
However, she decided immediately that it would be of interest to hear a
number of things her present companion must know. After having seen so
many different phases of the war, if he were clever, he must give one a
broader outlook on the entire subject.
Then Nona suddenly remembered that before she began trying to acquire
outside information it might be just as well for her to find out her
companion’s name. Yet she did not like deliberately to ask him.
“I wonder if you would mind telling me your name?” an agreeable
masculine voice inquired at this instant. “Even if I do know that you
are one of the American Red Cross nurses it is extremely important to
me to hear which one.”
Nona flushed slightly, although biting her lips to hide a faint
smile. But after all it was agreeable to have all of one’s thoughts
anticipated before one was able to speak.
However, Nona gave her name; there was really nothing else to do. But
since her companion did not volunteer his in return, she had a little
streak of obstinacy which made her determined not to inquire. He
evidently intended that she, also, should show sufficient interest to
ask. And why, after all, should she wish to know?
Nevertheless, as they continued their walk, Nona began to be glad that
Barbara had failed her. She was finding the afternoon more amusing than
she had anticipated.
It was an exquisite summer day and the French landscape held a peculiar
softness and beauty of form and color.
Perhaps it is well for us to recall now and then that nature has gone
on with her same unchanging seasons of spring, summer, fall and winter
for these past three years, when human nature has suffered such strange
transformation. So Nona was glad to enjoy the landscape and her new
acquaintance and to forget everything else for a little while.
She did not talk very much, just answered sympathetically. But she
realized she was smiling more often than usual.
However, she did not observe that her companion kept his eyes upon her
whenever it was possible without staring, and that he not only did not
seem interested, he seemed hardly conscious of the charm of the French
country.
Nona had on the same white dress she had worn at Madame Bonnèt’s. When
she was not at work she did not often go out of the hospital in her
nurse’s uniform. This dress was cooler than most things she owned, and
although perfectly simple, since Sonya had it made for her, it held the
distinction which Sonya knew how to give to all clothes.
Nona looked frail and there was an added charm in her face. For the
past three years she had seen so much heroism and so much suffering.
Since she was fine and sensitive, the impressions were deeply implanted
within her heart and mind. Then, although she had never spoken of the
subject often, her own experience in Italy and Eugino Zoli’s gallant
death had also left their impression. Whether she had cared for Eugino
or not, at least Nona had determined that she would keep herself free
from any such emotion again. Sonya would probably never marry and they
would have each other.
Nona was listening and thinking at the same time, as only girls and
women can do, when she and her companion came to an abrupt pause.
It was not quite dusk and one should have been able to distinguish
faces.
Yet the figure before them had cried “halt” in a peremptory tone, and,
at the same instant, Nona found herself gazing more closely into the
mouth of a pistol than at any moment in her war nursing adventures. She
also heard the young man with her mutter something under his breath
which is not supposed to be polite, but which really equally expressed
her own point of view for the moment.
“Who goes there?” a voice demanded with unnecessary sternness, for
since she had been able to recognize Lieutenant Martin, there seemed no
especial reason why he should not also recognize her.
“Miss Davis, one of the Red Cross nurses at the American hospital and
Phillip Dawson. I wonder if you recall me? Yes, I understand we should
not be so near camp after dusk, but it is not yet dark and I am seeing
Miss Davis back to the hospital as quickly as we can manage.”
Nona felt annoyed. It seemed to her to be characteristic of Lieutenant
Martin to try to make a display of his authority. She did not believe
that she was breaking any of the rules of the encampment by merely
walking on the outskirts of the village at this hour. He had a
disagreeable reputation for unnecessary harshness among his own men,
but there was no possible excuse for his making an exhibition of it
before her. Nona wished she could think of something to say which might
express her attitude.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Davis,” Lieutenant Martin volunteered before
she could speak. “I am afraid I did not look closely at either you or
Dawson. I have been out searching for some of our men who have been
giving trouble. One of them is still missing. Nevertheless, it is
against orders to be in the neighborhood of camp after dark without a
permit. I’ll see you home.”
Lieutenant Martin placed himself on Nona’s right, as if he deliberately
ignored the fact that she was not alone. Yet the road was narrow and
it was self-evident that there was someone on her left.
Nona did not know just what to say or do and then decided to allow
the two men to meet the situation, as she was perfectly capable of
returning home without the escort of either of them. But since they
were both bent upon rescuing her from no possible danger, it was
simpler not to dispute the question.
Moreover, almost immediately after Lieutenant Martin’s speech, she
heard the other man laugh.
“See here, Lieutenant Martin, I know I have to yield to you in military
matters and since I am not a soldier you probably do not think much of
me. Nevertheless, you know I believe I am capable of getting Miss Davis
safely back home, even of defending her, if anything should happen in
this next half mile. And after all, I secured the privilege first.”
Lieutenant Martin did not laugh. If he had a sense of humor, it was not
in evidence. Yet Nona was surprised by his offer to accompany her. She
knew he disliked feminine society so intensely, and although he would
have done his duty had he felt she _required_ his escort, it was hardly
necessary for him to volunteer under the present circumstances.
“You are not armed. I prefer to see Miss Davis back to the hospital.”
Then Nona walked on between the two men, not knowing whether to
laugh or to be annoyed and finding it difficult to make any kind of
conversation which should include the three of them, since both men
refused to speak again.
In sight of the hospital Lieutenant Martin said good-bye without
ceremony and walked off toward camp. Nona could not help thinking that
he was rather better looking than he was agreeable, as she watched his
fine upright figure and the splendid military carriage of his shoulders
and head.
She did try to thank him, but he seemed bored by her efforts.
The next moment she and her more recent acquaintance had reached the
gate of the hospital.
Above the gate hung the French and American flags, the one crossed over
the other.
As a matter of course, Philip Dawson lifted his hat.
“I would like to come to see you if I may, Miss Davis, and it is not an
infringement of hospital rules,” he asked straightforwardly. “But if I
cannot, and at any time or in any way I can be of service to you, you
must give me the privilege. Strange things are taking place about us
these days and one never knows when something of an unexpected kind may
develop.”
Nona shook hands, then rather idly watched the second of her companions
walk away. The two men formed an amusing contrast.