"Clear out of this!" growls Kropp.
"Of course. And then what?"
"Get drunk," says Albert.
"Don't talk rot, I mean seriously——"
"So do I," says Kropp, "what else should a man do?"
Kat becomes interested. He levies tribute on Kropp's tin of beans, swallows some, then considers for a while and says: "You might get drunk first, of course, but then you'd take the next train for home and mother. Peace-time, man, Albert——"
He fumbles in his oil-cloth pocket-book for a photograph and suddenly shows it all round. "My old people!" Then he puts it back and swears: "Damned lousy war——"
"It's all very well for you to talk," I tell him. "You've a wife and children."
"True," he nods, "and I have to see to it that they've something to eat."
We laugh. "They won't lack for that, Kat, you'd scrounge it from somewhere."