That was the shibboleth--the cry by which she sounded the closed depths of her love and called to the stricken life of a woman's insatiate vanity.
Then she snatched up the letter, to scan it again, and, suddenly grasping the import of Glenn's request, she hurried to the telephone to find the number of the hospital in Bedford Park.

A nurse informed her that visitors were received at certain hours and that any attention to disabled soldiers was most welcome.
Carley motored out there to find the hospital merely a long one-story frame structure, a barracks hastily thrown up for the care of invalided men of the service.

The chauffeur informed her that it had been used for that purpose during the training period of the army, and later when injured soldiers began to arrive from France.
A nurse admitted Carley into a small bare anteroom.

Carley made known her errand.
"I'm glad it's Rust you want to see," replied the nurse.

"Some of these boys are going to die.