"I'm sure the country will suit her," he said, "this part of the country at any rate—but what will Bones say?"
"Bones!" repeated Captain Hamilton scornfully. "What the dickens does it matter what Bones says?"
Nevertheless, he went to the sea-end of the verandah, and his roar rivalled the thunder of the surf.
"Bones!"
There was no answer and for an excellent reason.
Sanders came out of the bungalow, his helmet on the back of his head, a cheroot tilted dizzily.
"Where is he?" he asked.
Hamilton turned.
"I asked him to—at least I didn't ask him, he volunteered—to peg out a trench line."
"Expect an invasion?" asked Sanders.