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“The war had been a daily thought, a continual consciousness in her life for two years, but never a real presence. Battles were things that were fought somewhere else, won somehow, by someone, and lost by someone else. Now as she stood by her own door and listened to the cannons, it was with a chilling, dreadfully full and clear realization that men were out on the field beneath that gray cloud taking each other’s lives.”

“He coughed, and spit dust. “Oh…just a fight,” he said. He grinned up at her from one side of his face; his right eye was already half swollen shut. “I was doing all right for about half a minute, but after that it was all the other way.” “There were two of them,” said his friend Tripp hotly. “It wasn’t a fight; they just beat him up.” “Billy and Ames,” supplied Mark, somewhat muffled by the wet cloth being applied to his split lip. “Dunno what got into ’em—just decided they didn’t like me, I guess.”

“Sam was staring at Claire with about the same amazement as his brother had shown. Claire didn’t seem to realize it, or else she was too preoccupied to think of it, but she was the second thunderbolt that had fallen on this long-hidebound household in as many days. First one of the hated race of doctors had been shoehorned in on them as the only thing that might get them out of an already nightmarish situation, and now this matter-of-fact slip of a girl had pushed into it of her own accord. They must have felt like the world was coming down around their ears.”