“Well, you know, Harry, you’re pretty rotten!” said the second lieutenant uneasily, a flush beginning to rise in his face. “I didn’t think you’d have the nerve. She’s a mighty fine girl, you know. She’s—unusual!”
“Exactly. Didn’t you suppose I would want a fine girl when I marry?”
“I don’t believe you’re really going to do it!” burst forth the second lieutenant. “In fact, I don’t believe I’ll let you do it if you try!”
“You couldn’t stop me, Bob!” with an amiable sneer. “One word from you, young man, and I’d put your captain wise about where you were the last time you overstayed your leave and got away with it. You know I’ve got a pull with your captain. It never pays for the pot to call the kettle black.”
The second lieutenant sat back sullenly with a deep red streaking his cheeks.
“You’re no angel yourself, Bob, see?” went on the first lieutenant lying back in his seat in satisfied triumph, “and I’m going to marry Ruth Macdonald next week and get a ten days’ leave! Put that in your pipe and smoke it!”
There ensued a long and pregnant silence. One glance at the second lieutenant showed that he was most effectually silenced.
The front door of the car slammed open and shut, and a tall slim officer with touches of silver about the edges of his dark hair, and a look of command in his keen eyes came crisply down the aisle. The two young lieutenants sat up with a jerk, and an undertone of oaths, and prepared to salute as he passed them. The captain gave them a quick searching glance as he saluted and went on to the next car.
The two jerked out salutes and settled back uneasily.
“That man gives me a pain!” said Harry Wainwright preparing to soothe his ruffled spirits by a fresh cigarette.