Man and Maid

* * * * *

Nina once proposed to stay with me here, no one should know,

Nina?--would she come now?--How dare they make this noise at the

door--what is it?--Nina!

* * * * *

Sunday--it was actually Nina herself--"Poor darling Nicholas," she

said. "The kindest fate sent me across--I 'wangled' a passport--really

serious war work, and here I am for a fortnight, even in war time one

must get a few clothes--"

I could see I was a great shock to her, my attraction for her had

gone--I was just "poor darling Nicholas," and she began to be

motherly--Nina motherly!--She would have been furious at the very idea

once. Nina is thirty-nine years old, her boy has just gone into the

flying corps, she is so glad the war will soon be over.

She loves her boy.

She gave me news of the world, our old world of idle uselessness, which

is now one of solid work.

"Why have you completely cut yourself off from everything and everybody,

ever since you first went out to fight?--Very silly of you."

"When I was a man and could fight, I liked fighting, and never wanted

to see any of you again. You all seemed rotters to me, so I spent my

leaves in the country or here. Now you seem glorious beings, and I the

rotter. I am no use at all--"

Nina came close to me and touched my hand-"Poor darling Nicholas," she said again.

Something hurt awfully, as I realized that to touch me now caused her no

thrill. No woman will ever thrill again when I am near.

Nina does know all about clothes! She is the best-dressed Englishwoman I

have ever seen. She has worked awfully well for the war, too, I hear,

she deserves her fortnight in Paris.

"What are you going to do, Nina?" I asked her.

She was going out to theatres every night, and going to dine with lots

of delicious 'red tabs' whose work was over here, whom she had not seen

for a long time.

"I'm just going to frivol, Nicholas, I am tired of work."

Nothing could exceed her kindness--a mother's kindness.

I tried to take an interest in everything she said, only it seemed such

aeons away. As though I were talking in a dream.

She would go plodding on at her war job when she got back again, of

course, but she, like everyone else, is war weary.

"And when peace comes--it will soon come now probably--what then?"

"I believe I shall marry again."