"Well, tell me about that, then?" she suggested. "Is it as exciting as fighting?"
He shook his head.
"It has advantages," he admitted, "but I should scarcely say that excitement figured amongst them."
She looked at him thoughtfully. Lutchester was a little over thirty-five years of age, tall and of sinewy build. His colouring was neutral, his complexion inclined to be pale, his mouth straight and firm, his grey eyes rather deep-set. Without possessing any of the stereotyped qualifications, he was sufficiently good-looking.
"I wonder you didn't prefer soldiering," she observed.
He smiled for a moment, and Pamela felt unreasonably annoyed at the twinkle in his eyes.
"I am not a soldier by profession," he said, "but I went out with the Expeditionary Force and had a year of it. They kept me here, after a slight wound, to take up my old work again."
"Your old work," she repeated. "I didn't know there was such a thing as a Ministry of Munitions before the war."
He deliberately changed the conversation, directing Pamela's attention to the crowded condition of the room.
"Gay scene, isn't it?" he remarked.