"Thank you, Miss Eleanor Bartlett," he said, with that ridiculous blush that was so out of keeping with his audacity.
She looked at him in amazement; then her face broke into a smile of recognition.
"Well, bless my soul, if it isn't Sergeant Slim! What are you doing here?"
"Same thing I been doing for six months," said Quin sheepishly; "counting the planks in the ceiling."
"But I thought you had got well. Oh, I hope it wasn't the dancing——"
"Lord, no," said Quin, keeping his hand over his bristly chin. "I'm husky, all right. Only they've got so used to seeing me laying around that they can't bear to let me go."
"Do you have to lie flat on your back like that, with no pillow or anything?"
"It ain't so bad, except at mess-time."
"And you can't even sit up to eat?"
"Not supposed to."