"The Dutchman was right, after all. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. He glanced at it, and saw the bloodied blade. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation.
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