"He's getting on fine," said I.I reached out my hand and held her cold, slim fingers.

"Promise me one thing, my dear." "All right," she said.
"Don't overdo things.

There's a limit to the power of bearing strain.
As soon as you feel you're likely to go FUT, throw it all up and come and see me and let us lay our heads together." "I despise people who go FUT," said Betty.
"I don't," said I.
We nodded a mutual farewell.

She opened the Committee Room door for me and walked down the corridor with a swinging step, as though she would show me how fully she had made herself mistress of circumstance.
Some evenings later she came in, as usual, unheralded, and established herself by my chair.
The scents of midsummer came in through the open windows, and there was a great full moon staring in at us from a cloudless sky.

Letters from the War Office, from brother-officers, from the Colonel, from the Brigadier General himself, had broken her down.