But, glancing now at the clever, clean-cut face of the man beside her, with its whimsical, sensitive mouth and steady eyes, she realised that he, at least, had kept nothing back--had offered brain and body equally to his country.
"And now?
You look quite sound in wind and limb still," she commented.
"Oh, I've been one of the lucky ones.

I've only got a game leg as my souvenir of hell.

I just limp a bit, that's all." "I'm so sorry you've a souvenir of any kind," said Nan quickly, with the spontaneousness which was part of her charm.
"Now that's very nice of you," answered the man.

"There's no reason why you should burden yourself with the woes of a perfect stranger." "I don't call you a perfect stranger," replied Nan serenely.

"I call you a Good Samaritan." "I'm generally known as Peter Mallory," he interjected modestly.
"And you know my name.