sits down on the ottoman, and takes his head in his hands.)
Would you like to see me cry?

RAINA (quickly). No.

MAN. If you would, all you have to do is to scold me just as if
I were a little boy and you my nurse. If I were in camp now
they'd play all sorts of tricks on me.

RAINA (a little moved). I'm sorry. I won't scold you. (Touched
by the sympathy in her tone, he raises his head and looks
gratefully at her: she immediately draws hack and says stiffly)
You must excuse me: our soldiers are not like that. (She moves
away from the ottoman.)

MAN. Oh, yes, they are. There are only two sorts of soldiers:
old ones and young ones. I've served fourteen years: half of
your fellows never smelt powder before. Why, how is it that
you've just beaten us? Sheer ignorance of the art of war,
nothing else. (Indignantly.) I never saw anything so
unprofessional.

RAINA (ironically). Oh, was it unprofessional to beat you?

MAN. Well, come, is it professional to throw a regiment of
cavalry on a battery of machine guns, with the dead certainty
that if the guns go off not a horse or man will ever get within
fifty yards of the fire? I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw
it.