“Vyvy met Jay-Jay in town. He said he had seen Leon in camp the day after her party, and Vyvy told him he must be mistaken because Leon did not leave here until three o’clock in the afternoon. I don’t know what he thinks, but he must have some ideas of his own.... I think you would do well to tell him the truth and let him help you. He has influence, you know, and might be able to make things easier for you. “Another week or so and Leonard’s arm will be out of the sling. He is determined to act at once. I don’t know what he will do but will let you know as soon as I hear from him....” Auntie was foolish. The idea of my confessing to Jay-Jay and being under obligation to him for his silence! I knew him well enough to know that he would be delighted to have something like that on me. He was just the kind that would take advantage and I was in no position to defend myself under the circumstances. No, sir—I didn’t want to see Mr. Marfield at all, and if I did see him, I didn’t know what I’d say or do. He was suspicious already. If God was really with me, he’d keep us from meeting. I didn’t like his type of officer anyway—and the more I thought about him, the less I liked him. I always said there was something about him I didn’t like: it was that suspiciousness, I guess. You didn’t feel that you could trust him at all, and I certainly did not want to take any chances on a man like that in a time like this! My troubles seemed to be beginning. I hadn’t had a good bath since that one on board ship and I couldn’t see how I could get one until we moved from this place: there wasn’t a single public bath in the unrestricted area in Brest. And to add to all this my tummy was feeling not so good and my back was aching sort of ominously. If it wasn’t one damned thing it was another. Armies and war certainly are For Men Only. This was no place for one woman, and I can’t imagine what it would be like if this camp were full of women instead of men. Anyways it would be worse than now. Women just can’t be bunched and crowded in together. It occurred to me that I might try Christian Science. They claim that if you have enough faith and wish hard enough, you can do anything—even grow a new limb where one has been amputated. I guess it would take more than Christian Science to change me into a man now: perhaps if my mother and father had used Christian Science, the change could have been made, or rather the necessity of change prevented. However, I doubt very much if those devilish little ova and those other jiggers, gametes or spermatozoa or whatever they call them, pay much attention to what their owners think and wish. I guess we are God’s children, after all—more than our parents’ probably. Anyway, I wished I were Leonard Lane. I didn’t feel so good. Maybe “fightin’ is a lot of fun” but I just didn’t feel kittenish enough to enjoy this prelude to battle. And with that Jay-Jay to think about besides!