"Well!" she enquired provokingly; "you're wishing me a thousand miles away?"
"I am," he nodded.
"You're not half grateful for your mercies," she retorted; "it ought to be rather a change to have a woman to pour out tea for you before a battle!"
"Oh, it is a change," he smiled.
She handed him a mug of blue and white enamel.
"And is there going to be a battle?"
"Not to-day," he said.
"To-morrow?"
"Probably."
"And shall we all be killed?"