And almost
overnight – in field and pasture – spread that thorny weed of war – barbed
wire!
And at the
front – again the wire, barbed and hideous – stretching over tortured ground.
– Don't you
hate them, too?
– No, Mona.
A man who has fought though one war learns a bitter lesson about hatred.
– My foot
keeps me from being a soldier, but not from being a good husband.
– That's a
pity, Pierre corlet! Frances needs soldiers – and I don't need a husband!
And almost overnight – in field and pasture – spread that thorny weed of war – barbed wire!
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