"An' so ye was over thar, young man? Wall, that's sartinly interestin'. Fer how long?"
"Nearly four years. I enlisted at the beginning of the war."
"An' come through all right?"
"Look," and Reynolds bared his left arm, showing a great scar. "I have several more on my body, some worse than that."
"Ye don't tell! My, I'm glad I've met ye. Got some medals, I s'pose."
Reynolds made no reply, as he already felt ashamed of himself for having told this much. It was not his nature to speak about himself, especially to a stranger, and he was determined to say nothing about the medals he had received for conspicuous bravery, and which he carried in his breast pocket.
"Do you smoke?" he suddenly asked.
"Yes; an old hand at it. Good fer the nerves."
"Well, suppose we go and have a smoke now. I am just in the mood for one myself."
Together they made their way to the smoking-room, which was situated well aft. It was partly filled with men, smoking, chatting, and playing cards. The air was dense with various brands of tobacco, making it impossible to see clearly across the room. No one paid any heed to the two as they entered, sat down in one corner of the room, filled and lighted their pipes. Reynolds noted that his companion became suddenly silent, and seemed to be deeply interested in four men playing cards at a small table a short distance from where they were sitting.