The corporal whistled. "Thirty-five years! It's queer, now, that I never set eyes on you before—and I come here pretty often."
Rosewarne let a full minute go by before he answered again. "There's nothing queer about it, Unless you've been stationed long in Warwick."
"Best part of a year."
"Quite so: I fish in Avon once a year only."
"Belong to the town?"
"No; nor within two hundred miles of it."
"You must think better of the sport than I do, to come all that distance."
John Rosewarne lifted his eyes for the first time and turned them upon the young man.
"What sport?" he asked.
"Eh? Why, fishing, to be sure. What else?" stammered the corporal, taken aback.