The adjutant leaned over toward me and hazarded, in a hoarse whisper:
"I presume they have no ice."
The barmaid's red cheeks dimpled and two straight rows of pearly teeth shone upon him, as she answered for me:
"Your presumption is ill-founded, young man. We have plenty of ice with which to temper the hot young blood of the Canadians."
The adjutant looked helplessly up, bereft of repartee; then apostrophised the ceiling:
"And these are the stupid Englishwomen we have been led to expect!"
Our education was going on apace.
A few moments later we emerged and discovered ourselves in a veritable whirlpool of young monetary gluttons.
"Penny, sir! penny! penny!" they shouted in staccato chorus. Our supply of pennies had long since been depleted. An idea struck me.
"See here," I said in serious tone. "We're only a lot of poor soldiers going to the war. We can't always be giving away pennies. We need pennies worse than you do."