And perhaps if I once broke down his pride ...

and yet every time that his body moved and the bed creaked I felt that I hated him, that I never wanted to speak to him again, that....

Oh! but I'm ashamed of myself.

He is right to despise me....
_Saturday, July 31st._ It is just midnight.

I am on duty to-night.
Everything is quiet and there are not likely I think to be any more wounded until the morning.