"May we have something to eat, please?" he inquired hesitatingly.
The young woman looked up again, with a surprised smile. "But you are not Tommies," she replied.
"No; merely officers, and very hungry ones at that."
She looked a trifle perplexed. "We don't serve officers here," she asserted. "You see, this buffet is meant for Tommies only."
Bless their hearts! Here at least was one place where the officer was discounted, and Tommy was king. We had been fêted and pampered to such an extent that we had lost sight of the true proportion of things. Here were women who realised that Tommy is quite as important as his officer, that he is a man and as such has rights. We honoured the young women who could thus devote themselves to the men who really needed their help most. But this elevating thought did not appease our hunger in the least. We still wanted something to eat, and the dainty food before us failed to modify our internal cravings.
"Couldn't we have just one bun?" Reggy coaxed.
The young woman smilingly shook her head. "It's against our rules," she replied.
Reggy looked distressed. We imitated his look with such success that another young woman, who seemed to be the one in authority, came forward and volunteered:
"If you will step into the house, gentlemen, I shall see what the concierge can do for you there."
That we didn't fall upon her neck in sheer thankfulness speaks well for our self-control. We kept sufficient restraint upon ourselves, however, to merely murmur our gratitude in becoming words. We explained that we had just arrived, and that our mess was not yet open.