My right arm was still perforce in a sling. The King, quickly noting it, extended his left hand to me and with my left hand I clasped it.
“You are to regain the use of your arm, I hope,” he said.
“The doctors are not sure, your Majesty,” I answered, “but I am optimistic.”
“I am sure you will,” he said, and glancing at the scar on my left cheek, asked me if my eyes had been affected. His voice was genuinely sympathetic; he appeared really interested.
I told him in this regard I had been most fortunate—my sight was not in any serious degree affected.
“I am happy to hear it. And how have you been treated in your illness? Are there any complaints that should be made in regard to arrangements for the wounded and their treatment?”
“I have only the greatest praise from beginning to end, your Majesty,” I answered.
“Good,” he said, and then as my Military Cross was handed him, he affixed it to my tunic and said:
“Lieutenant Fallon, we deeply thank you for your services and I hope you live many years to wear the decoration I have placed upon you.”
With that I stepped back the directed two paces, bowed and left by the right door, returned to the salon, received my hat and stick and stepped out to the entrance where the motor car, that had been parked on the grounds, was summoned and I started back to the home of my friends. My young lady companions had graciously awaited me in the car.