The windows stood wide open to the sweet, sharp air. She heard Mrs. Rankin and Sutton talking on the balcony. In that dreadful messroom you heard everything. "What do you suppose it was then?" Mrs. Rankin said. And Sutton, "Oh, I don't know. Something upset him." "If he's going to be upset _like that_ every time he'd better go home." They were talking--she knew they were talking about John. "Hallo, Charlotte, we haven't left you much tea." "It doesn't matter." Her hunger left her suddenly. She stared with disgust at the remains of the tea the McClane Corps had eaten. Sutton went on. "He hasn't been sleeping properly. I've made him go to bed." "If you can keep him in bed for the duration of the war--" "Are you talking about John?" "We are." "I don't know what you're driving at; but I suppose he was sick on that beastly battlefield. It's all very well for you two; you're a trained nurse and Billy's a surgeon.... You aren't taken that way when you see blood." "Blood?" said Mrs. Rankin. "Yes. Blood. He was perfectly all right yesterday." Mrs. Rankin laughed. "Yesterday he couldn't see there was any danger. You could tell that by the idiotic things he said." "I saw it. And if I could he could." "Funny kid. You'd better get on with your tea. You'll be sent out again before you know where you are." Charlotte settled down. Sutton was standing beside her now, cutting bread and butter. "Hold on," he said. "That tea's all stewed and cold. I'll make you some of mine." She drank the hot, fragrant China tea he brought her. Presently she stood up. "I think I'll take John some of this." "Best thing you can give him," Sutton said. He got up and opened the doors for her, the glass doors and the door of the bedroom. She sat down beside John's bed and watched him while he drank Sutton's tea. He said he was all right now. No. He hadn't ruptured anything; he only thought he had; but Sutton had overhauled him and said he was all right. And all the time his face was still vexed and drawn. Something must have happened out there; something that hurt him to think of. "John," she said, "I wish I'd gone with you instead of Mrs. Rankin." "I wish to God you had. Everything's all right when you're with me, and everything's all wrong when you're not." "How do you mean, wrong?" He shook his head, frowning slightly, as a sign for her to stop. Sutton had come into the room. "You needn't go," he said, "I've only come for my coat and my case. I've got to help with the operations." He slipped into the white linen coat. There were thin smears of blood on the sleeves and breast. He groped about the room, peering short-sightedly for his case of instruments. "John, was Mrs. Rankin any good?" she asked presently. John lay back and closed his eyes as if to shut out the sight of Mrs. Rankin. "Don't talk to me," he said, "about that horrible woman." Sutton had turned abruptly from his search.