"'Tis not in the nature of mortals to command success. We've done better, Townshend—we've deserved it!"
"Rot! There's a screw loose somewhere. At Essin I turned him out of a much stronger position than he's got now, and with one-fourth of your force. Do you suppose we like being here or can hold out indefinitely?"
"Don't gibe! Do you know you're certain for a peerage—Townshend of Ctesiphon, I hear—nice alliteration too."
"No, really? Well, old chap, get through when you can. Some old time! We're eating door-mats and dubbin [Liar]! My pigeon though."
"Oh, I say! Last night I thought of suggesting we risked a plane landing in Kut for you and bringing you away so that you could have had the honour of relieving Kut."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Well, I thought what a godless ass you would look if you didn't succeed. Nothing seems certain except these floods!"
"Do you really think there is any chance of your getting through?"
"Not in the least! Even Lloyds wouldn't look at it. But the Bishop of London says you are making a glorious page in British history!"
"Page, sir, be damned! We've finished two volumes long ago. Is there anything else?"