It's such beautiful scenery."
But no more of the hospital here. I live in the hope that some day I may
write its history, and may be able to say something which will not be
open to the charge of, "Oh! Another boring book about the War!" As I
conceive it, my hospital book will be an analysis of the mind and
character of the British working-man with his defensive armour off, and
not an attempt to give any views on military or medical reform and so
forth.
One word more. My position in the hospital with the men was a strange
one. They soon saw that I played the game, and that if I saw them
breaking rules, met them, when I was riding, out of bounds, or
discovered them at any other of their wicked tricks, I never told tales,
or got them into trouble, or evoked any disciplinary reprisals. This
intensive cultivation of the blind eye raised me to the position of a
friendly neutral and gained for me their confidence. Besides, I believe
it soothed them to think that I, too, had to endure the regiment of
women to which they were exposed. They suspected that I also quailed, as
they must, before "the Sister in charge."
Their manners, by the way, were always perfect without being formal or
absurd.
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