A story of war as it really is, told by a war correspondent who has seen scores of campaigns. It is the soul of war laid bare.
th Westerling. She had fused them into one.
"Some day you will be chief of staff, the head of the Gray army!" she suddenly exclaimed.
Westerling started as if he had been surprised in a secret. Then he flushed slightly.
"Why?" he asked with forced carelessness. "Your reasons? They're more interesting than your prophecy."
"Because you have the will to be," she said without emphasis, in the impersonal revelations of thought. "You want power. You have ambition."
He looked the picture of it, with his square jaw, his well-moulded head set close to the shoulders on a sturdy neck, his even teeth showing as his lips parted in an unconscious smile.
"Marta, Marta! She is--is so explosive," Mrs. Galland remarked apologetically to the colonel.
"I asked for her reasons. I brought it on myself--and it is not a bad compliment," he replied. Indeed, he had never received one so thrilling.
His smile, a smile well pleased with itself, remained as Mrs. Galland began to talk
