Sylvia agreed with Miss Savage and decided not to worry about her fare back to England, but rather to stay on for a while in Russia and get up her strength after leaving the hospital; then when she had spent her money she should work again, and when this war was over she could return to Mulberry Cottage with one or two Improvisations added to her repertory. Now that she was out of bed, life seemed already simple again, and perhaps she had exaggerated the change in herself; she wished she had not spoken to the nun so intimately; one of the disadvantages of being ill was this begetting of an intimacy between the nurse and the patient, which grows out of bodily dependence into mental servitude; it was easy to understand why men so often married their nurses. "I am not sure," said Sylvia to herself, "that the right attitude is not the contempt of the healthy animal for one of its kind who is sick. There's a sort of sterile sensuality about nursing and being nursed." Sylvia's feelings about the war were confirmed by the views of the doctor who attended her. He had felt a little nervous until England had taken her place beside Russia and France, but once she had done so, the war would be over at the latest by the middle of October. "It's easy to see how frightened the Germans are by the way they are behaving in Belgium." "Why, what are they doing?" Sylvia asked. "They've overrun it like a pack of wolves." "I have a sister in Brussels," she said, suddenly. The doctor shook his head compassionately. "But of course nothing will happen to her," she added. The doctor hastened to support this theory; Sylvia was still very weak and he did not want a relapse brought on by anxiety. He changed the conversation by calling to Claudinette, the little girl who thought war was so lovely. "Seen any more soldiers to-day?" he asked, jovially. "Thousands," Claudinette declared. "Oh, _monsieur_, when shall I be able to leave the hospital? It's terrible to be missing everything. Besides, I want to make _papa_ understand how lovely it is to march along, with everybody thinking how fine and brave it is to be a soldier. Fancy, _maman_ told me he has been invited to go back to France and that he has actually refused the invitation." The doctor raised his eyebrows and flashed a glance at Sylvia from his bright brown eyes to express his pity for the child's innocence. At this point Madame Benzer intervened. "The only thing that worries me about this war is the food: it's bound to upset custom. People don't order so many tarts when they're thinking of something else. And the price of everything will go up. Luckily I've told my husband to lay in stores of flour and sugar. It's a comfort to be a neutral." The Swedish masseuse echoed Madame Benzer's self-congratulation: