The land about these walls is a common graveyard. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. Manning loomed up ever and again into her world, full of a futile solicitude, and almost always declaring she was splendid, splendid, and wishing he could talk things out with her. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. You need not be afraid.
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