She was doing things in a dream, but it
was a dream into which outside things penetrated, for when she had
arranged the table beneath the window as a dressing-table it occurred to
her that it would have to be used for meals and she packed her things
away on the shelf above the row of pegs. Quite unthinkingly she had
accepted this place as home; after the tiny cabin it did not seem very
small; she was too mentally anxious to feel actual disadvantages. It was
days before the cramping influence of four walls made her stifle and
gasp for breath.
She had a vague idea that Louis ought not to be wakened, but, looking at
him, she saw that his neck was twisted uncomfortably and his collar
cutting it. Raising him gently she tried to take his coat and collar
off; he half wakened and made a weak motion as though to strike her. She
noticed that his hands were very dirty.
"Louis, you're so uncomfortable," she whispered. "Let me help you
undress and get into bed."
"Le' me lone," muttered Louis, lying heavily on her arm. "Aft' my
blasted papers. Blast' German--even if you did play Marsh--laise!
Marsh--laise! Marsh--shella!"
His voice rose in an insistence of terror and she laid her face against
his soothingly.
Then she drew back, sickened by the smell of the various mixtures he had
been drinking.
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