The Red Cross Barge by Marie Belloc Lowndes

For some time, perhaps for as long as five minutes, the Herr Doktor / stood on the stone jetty. He did not like to step down upon the barge / and at once take possession of it, as it was his undoubted right, almost / his duty, to do. Also, though in no way a coward, his nerve had been / shaken by the terrible things he had seen, and by the long fatiguing / hours of desperately hard work he had lately gone through. Horrible / stories were whispered as to what the French were capable of doing to an / unarmed enemy. The inside of this big, roomy barge might contain youths / and old men armed with knives and scythes. Perhaps his wisest course / would be to go up the hill again, and, together with his patient, / return with an armed escort who would deal in summary fashion with any / evil-intentioned inmates of the Red Cross barge.

While he was thus hesitating, there suddenly floated towards him the / stifled sounds of hurried whisperings. They were followed, a moment / later, by the lady of the barge herself. But her fair hair was now / almost entirely hidden by the severe, unbecoming head-dress of a French / Red Cross nurse; and the hard white coif and flowing veil obscured the / free, graceful, rather haughty poise of her head.