"Hello, sun!" cried Marjorie.
"Hello, clouds!" cried Leonard.
"Hello, old sea gulls!" cried Marjorie, beginning to sneeze.
"God, but I feel fit; I feel glorious! Don't you, Marjie?"
"Don't I, though! I feel glorious. O God!" cried Marjorie, who did not
know whether that was swearing or praying, and did not care.
Leonard ran his hands through the chill, warm sand, and watched a huge
black spider promenading with bustling importance up his arm.
"The female spider eats the male as soon as he fertilizes the eggs, but
he has to just the same," said Leonard, dreamily.
"Let's kill her," said Marjorie.
"No."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"She's a cannibal," said Marjorie.
"No, it's her instinct," said Leonard.
He opened an alleyway for the spider in the sand, and, with his head
down close, watched it hustling away. "It's the same with us; we know we
have every chance of being killed in this war, and we have to go, and
we're glad to. It's not courage or sacrifice; it's instinct."
"You think so, Leonard?"
"It's not nice to lie alongside of a man you've killed and watch him
die," said Leonard, inconsistently, eyes looking down into the sand,
head pillowed on his arm.
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