He could not tell her the thoughts that were surging in him. The country
was at war. Those fellows below there were already in it, of it. And
here in this sordid room, he had meant to take her, not because he loved
her, but because she offered herself. It was cheap. It was terrible. It
was--dirty.
"Good night," he said, and tried to kiss her. But she turned her face
away. She stood listening to his steps on the stairs as he went down,
steps that mingled and were lost in the steady tramp of the soldiers'
feet in the street below.