"Sometimes. But when things are at their worst you don't think of yourself so much-more of the men who are wounded, and if you can help them."

"Oh." He thought for a moment. "I don't need no 'elp. Least, not most o' the time. I 'elp Mr. Monk. 'E don't know much 'bout the river. Not that 'e in't clever, an' brave, like," he added quickly. " 'E s just..."

"Ignorant," she supplied for him with a smile.

"Yeah," he agreed. "If yer knowed that, why'd yer let 'im go?"

"Because if you love someone, you can't stop them doing what they believe they have to."

He looked at her more seriously, with the beginning of something that could even have been respect. "Is that why yer pa let yer go inter the army?"

"Something like that."

"Wots it like?"

She told him, fairly factually, what the troop ship had been like crossing the Mediterranean, and her first sight of Scutari. She was describing the hospital when she realized he was asleep. His breathing was even, his brow cool, his skin dry.

She lay down on Monk's side of the bed and, in spite of her intention not to fall asleep, almost immediately drifted off too.

When she woke Scuff was awake, looking uncomfortable. He had been lying close to her, perhaps afraid to move in case he disturbed her. Yet he remained there now when he did not have to, his eyes wary, waiting for her to say something, perhaps make some kind of demand.

She knew better. He might have been frightened, lonely, and hungry for affection, but if she offered it too soon he would reject it instantly. He needed his independence to survive, and he knew it.

"How are you?" she asked quite casually. "I fell asleep," she added unnecessarily.

"It 'urts," he said, then instantly seemed ashamed of himself. "I'm better, ta. I can go 'ome soon."

It was not the time to argue with him. He needed to feel some part of his fate was in his own hands. He was afraid of losing his freedom, of becoming dependent, of coming to like warmth and soft beds, hot food- even belonging.

"Yes, of course," she agreed. "As soon as you are a little better. I am going to get something to eat. Would you like something, too?"

He was silent, uncertain whether to accept or not. In his world, food was life. One never took it or gave it lightly. All his surroundings were unfamiliar, and he was conscious enough now to be fully aware of that.