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Updated: May 4, 2025
Sara rarely failed to make a definite impression, even upon people who only knew her slightly, and Lady Arronby, who had known her from her earliest days at Barrow, answered her letter without hesitation. "I shall be delighted to have you with me," she had written. "Even though you are not a trained nurse, there's work out there for women of your caliber, my dear. So come.
She had heard that an old friend of Patrick Lovell's, Lady Arronby by name, proposed equipping and taking over to France a party of nurses, and she promptly wrote to her, begging that she might be included in the little company. Lady Arronby, who had been a sister at a London hospital before her marriage, recollected her old friend's ward very clearly.
During a hastily snatched meal, before the advent of another batch of casualties, he had sounded Lady Arronby on the subject. The latter shook her head. "I can tell you very little. I believe there was a bad love-affair just before the war. All I know is that she was engaged and that the engagement was broken off very suddenly." "Humph! And she's been living on her reserves ever since.
"No, we won't speak of it again," he answered. He tucked his arm under hers, and they walked on together in the direction of the house. "And now," she said, "let's go to Elisabeth and break it to her that we are both going out to France as soon as we can get there." He turned to look at her. "You?" he exclaimed. "You going out? What do you mean?" "I'm going with Lady Arronby. I want to go badly.
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