Chapter Thirty Seven.
A Hospital Visitor.
“Hang being in hospital!” Denham said over and over again. “I seem to be always in hospital. There never was such an unlucky beggar.”
I sighed deeply.
“It is miserable work,” I said.
“Yes; and it seems so absurd,” said Denham. “There’s something wrong about it.”
“Of course,” I said; “we’re wounded, and suffering from the shock of what we’ve gone through.”
“Gammon!” said Denham. “That wouldn’t knock us up as it has. We both got awful toppers on the skull; but that wouldn’t have made us so groggy on the legs that we couldn’t stand.”
“Oh, that’s the weakness,” I replied.