"Yes, and you'd have been all right, you silly blighter, if you'd have stayed where they wanted to keep you, down at the base singing to the boys in rest camp. You needn't ever have left there! But no. He would go up the line, Miss."
The red-haired actor warrior agreed in the husky voice that was spoilt for song:
"I wanted to go up the line. After all, I didn't join to go on singing."
Another aspect of life: the obscurely heroic that is taken for granted every day!
"Corporal Ferrant," said a voice at his elbow. It was Muriel again.
"Oh, will you go to the Colonel's room now?" she said pleasantly. "He's ready for you to make him up." Then:
"Hullo, Joan!" she said. "What do you think of this priceless show? My hands are dropping off with playing so hard."
She glanced around. Then she let herself down lightly on the arm of my chair as if she wanted to say something particular to me.
"I say," she said, with a sudden little shrewd glance at me. "Wasn't it funny about Harry Markham?"
"Funny?" I echoed, startled. "What—which was funny?"