If making a place for you here is going to make one for me there—on the inside, I mean—you're not going to refuse to take me in, are you?"
Something seemed to leap up in the girl's eyes, but to crouch back, afraid. "What do you know about me?" she whispered.
"Not much. Only that you've met things I never had to meet, met them much better, doubtless, than I should have met them. Only that you've fought in the real, while I've flitted around here on the playground." Katie's eyes contracted to keenness. "And I wonder if there isn't more dignity in fighting—yes, and losing
—in the real, than just sitting around where you get nothing more unpleasant than the faint roar of the guns. To lose fighting—or not to fight! Why certainly there can be no question about it. What do I know about you?" s
