"All the same I had a very good mare once that was sickle-hocked," she said. "I called her 'Influenza,' so that I shouldn't get it and she had rather long eyes like Nadine. Oh, Jack, I quite forgot to tell you. I had a joyous telegram from Nadine to say that Hughie had crashed out in France, and had broken his arm. She was pleased."
"But why?" asked he.
"Darling, you are dull. He's safely tucked up in hospital and with any luck he will be transferred to town. Isn't it lovely for her? He won't be ably to fly again for months."
Dodo gave an awful groan.
"Oh, I'm thinking about the war," she said. "What are we coming to? Here are Nadine and I simply delighted because Hughie's broken his arm. That's singular, you know, if you come to think of it. We hope it will take a long time to mend, so that he won't be able to fly again yet."
"Perhaps he won't be wanted to," said Jack.
"Why?"
Jack lit a cigarette, and with the flaring match burned a withered beech-leaf that had fallen on the turf without replying.
"I don't want to say too much," he began at length.
"Darling, you're not saying anything at all at present," said she.