A Farewell to Arms
They part. The mist has turned to rain. Henry goes to the train. A gaunt, scarred
artillery captain challenges him over the seat, claiming it because he arrived two
hours before Henry. There is a momentary confrontation, and then Henry backs down.
You get the feeling that a younger Frederic Henry would have fought the man. Has love mellowed
him? Or is he tired of strife? Does he feel sympathy for the captain, who looks as
if he, too, has had a rough time of it? All of the above.
Henry sleeps on the floor in the corridor as the train, packed with men going to
the war, plunges through the rain.
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