Yes, he's my son," Christopher said.
"Then that's all," Mark said. "I suppose if you're killed you won't mind my keeping an eye on the youngster?"
"I'll be glad," Christopher said.
They strolled along the Embankment side by side, walking rather slowly, their backs erected and their shoulders squared because of their satisfaction of walking together, desiring to lengthen the walk by going slow. Once or twice they stopped to look at the dirty silver of the river, for both liked grim effects of landscape. They felt very strong, as if they owned the land!
Once Mark chuckled and said:
"It's too damn funny. To think of our both being . . . what is it? . . . monogamists? Well, it's a good thing to stick to one woman . . . you can't say it isn't. It saves trouble. And you know where you are."
Under the lugubrious arch that leads into the War Office quadrangle Christopher halted.
"No. I'm coming in," Mark said. "I want to speak to Hogarth. I haven't spoken to Hogarth for some time. About the transport waggon parks in Regent's Park. I manage all those beastly things and a lot more."
"They say you do it damn well," Christopher said. "They say you're indispensable." He was aware that his; brother desired to stay with him as long as possible. He desired it himself.
"I damn well am!" Mark said. He added: "I suppose you couldn't do that sort of job in France? Look after transport and horses."