“My friend, you are wonderful!” Seaman interrupted solemnly. “You are a man after my own heart, you are thorough, you leave nothing undone. That is why,” he added, lowering his voice a little, “we are the greatest race in the world. Drink before everything, my friend,” he went on, “drink I must have. What a day! The very clouds that hide the sun are full of sulphurous heat.”
Dominey rang the bell, ordered hock and seltzer and ice. Seaman drank and threw himself into an easy-chair.
“There is no fear of your being called out of the country because of that, I hope?” he asked a little anxiously, nodding his head towards his companion's uniform.
“Not at present,” Dominey answered. “I am a trifle over age to go with the first batch or two. Where have you been?”
Seaman hitched his chair a little nearer.
“In Ireland,” he confided. “Sorry to desert you as I did, but you do not begin to count for us just yet. There was just a faint doubt as to what they were going to do about internment. That is why I had to get the Irish trip off my mind.”
“What has been decided?”
“The Government has the matter under consideration,” Seaman replied, with a chuckle. “I can certainly give myself six months before I need to slip off. Now tell me, why do I find you down here?”
“After Terniloff left,” Dominey explained, “I felt I wanted to get away. I have been asked to start some recruiting work down here.”
“Terniloff—left his little volume with you?”