She
knew Colonel Markin by reputation--he had done a great work among the
Cingalese. "It was trained," she said, casting down her eyes, "on the
battlefields of our Army."
Colonel Markin attempted to straighten his shoulders and to stiffen his
chin. He seemed vaguely aware of a military tradition which might make
it necessary for him, as a very senior officer indeed, to say something.
But the impression was transitory. Instead of using any rigour he held
out his hand. Laura took it reverently, and the bones shut up, like the
sticks of a fan, in her grasp. "Welcome, comrade!" he said, and there
was a pause, as there should be after such an apostrophe.
"When you came among us this afternoon," Colonel Markin resumed, "I
noticed you. There was something about the way you put your hand over
your eyes when I addressed our Heavenly Father in prayer that spoke to
me. It spoke to me and said, 'Here we have a soul that knows what
salvation means--there's no doubt about that.' Then when, you raised a
Hallelujah, I said to myself, 'That's got the right ring to it.' And so
you're a sister in arms!"
"I was," Laura murmured.
"You was--you were. Well, well--I want to hear all about it.
Pages:
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370