Monty. Oh, yes, my young brother. He's got a job on Haig's personal Staff now, wears a red brow-band and all that—ahem! Of course he tells me a thing or two when we meet, but in the strictest confidence, you understand.
Brown. Quite; but did he say anything about the end of the War?
Monty. Well, not precisely, that is not exactly, excepting that he says that it's pretty certain now that it—er—well, that it will end.
Brown. That's good news. Thanks, Monty.
Monty. Not a bit, old thing. Don't mention it.
Iron-grey. 'Tis a great comfort to us to know that the War will ind, if not in our day, annyway sometime.
Canadian dun. You bet. Gee, I wish it was all over an' I was home in the foothills with the brown wool and pink prairie roses underfoot, and the Chinook layin' my mane over.
Iron-grey. Faith, but the County Cork would suit me completely; a roomy loose-box wid straw litter an' a leak-proof roof.
Tubby. Yes, with full meals coming regularly.
A bay mare. I've got a two-year-old in Devon I'd like to see again.