"'Look 'ere,' he said to me, ''ave you ever killed a 'Un?'
"'I think I did once,' I said. 'A fat man with a nasty face.'
"'Oh! you 'ave, 'ave you? Well, wot abaht killing one to-night. If they thinks I'm going to stand that sort of thing, they're —— —— wrong.' The language was the language of Whitechapel, but the sentiments were the sentiments of even the most rabid purist of speech.
"To cut a long story short, we went. And we were very lucky."
"You bumped your face into 'em, did you?" asked Jim, interested.
"We did. Man, it was a grand little scrap while it lasted, and it was the first one I'd had. It won't be the last."
"Did you kill your men?"
"Did we not? Welks brained his with the butt of his gun; and I did the trick with a bayonet." Vane became a little apologetic. "You know it was only my first, and I can't get it out of my mind." Then his eyes shone again. "To feel that steel go in—Good God! man—it was IT: it was...."
Then came the interruption. "Dear," said a voice at the door, "the children are in bed; will you go up and say good night."... Thus the second incident....