Something that couldn't save itself altogether--that clung to you and called to you to save it.

But that was what she had loved. Nothing could touch it.

For a moment while McClane was talking she saw, in the flash he gave her, that it was real. And when the flash went it slipped back into her darkness.

But on the deck in front of her she could see John walking up and down. She could see the wide road of gold and purple that stretched from the boat's stern to the sun. John's head was thrown back; he looked at her with his shining, adventurous eyes. He was happy and excited, going out to the war.

And she saw them again: the batteries, the cars and the wagons. Dust like blown smoke, and passing in it the long lines of beaten men, reeling slowly to the footway, passing slowly, endlessly, regiment by regiment, in retreat.



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