CHAPTER XXIII
COLONEL FIELDING DISCUSSES "ENJOYMENT"
Now, as we sat in that field, between the blond stubble and lowering purple sky, there was one thing the others didn't guess.
I wouldn't have changed places with a Queen. Just to be so near Captain Holiday, rested and feasting after work, was sheer joy to me. He would never know.
But it was odd to find his friend, Colonel Fielding, suddenly putting my thoughts into words!
He repeated his own words of a moment before.
"Yes, this is one of 'the' feasts," he said softly. "Tea and bread and butter in a hayfield. And—er—absolutely topping. It's Enjoyment; pukka. It's what people are always chasing. They flock to—er—the most expensive restaurants in town for this. They go on to boxes at theatres, supper clubs. It's what they order champagne for. Jazz bands. Dressing up to the nines. All to get it! They—er—they don't get it," murmured the young Colonel, in his meekest of meek voices. "You can't buy it. It comes to you—or it doesn't. Fact."
Nobody said anything. Fielding continued:
"When people look back on the best time they've ever had, they don't find that those are the times that—er—that have swallowed up every stiver at Cox's. No. Nor the times when they set out deliberately to do themselves well, and—er—dash the expense. No! As often as not, that is a wash-out. Er—I don't know why. But somehow the best time nearly always comes down to something that costs hardly anything."
Captain Holiday, smoking, gave a sort of non-committal grunt.
Meanwhile Elizabeth was listening spellbound to the homily on Life's Good Times, given by the young officer, who talked as if he were the shyest of the shy—but whose shyness did not stop him from holding forth.