"Listen," whispered Colonel Parker, "listen—a nightingale!"
CHAPTER VII
LOVE AND THE INFANT DUNDAS
"... Of which, if thou be a severe sour-complexion'd man, then I hereby disallow thee to be a competent judge."—The Compleat Angler.
The Infant Dundas struck up a rag-time on the sergeant-major's typewriter, did a juggling turn with the army list, and let forth a few hunting yells; then, seeing that the interpreter had reached the required state of exasperation, he said:
"Aurelle, why should we stay in this camp? Let's go into the town; I'll get hold of the Intelligence car, and we'll go and see Germaine."
Germaine was a pretty, friendly girl who sold novels, chocolates and electric
lamps at Abbeville. Dundas, who was not interested in women, pretended to have a discreet passion for her; in his mind France was associated with the idea of love-affairs, and he thought it the right thing to have a girl-friend there, just as he would have thought it correct to hunt in Ireland, or to ski at St. Moritz.
But when Germaine, with feigned timidity, directed on him the slowly dwindling fire of her gaze, Dundas was afraid to put his arm round her waist; this rosy-cheeked giant, who was a champion boxer and had been wounded five times, was as bashful and shy as a child.
"Good morning," he would say with a blush.
"Good morning," Germaine would answer, adding in a lower voice for Aurelle's benefit, "Tell him to buy something."