"Why, of course that's it. I'm tired, stupid—it's made me exaggerate things. It will mean another operation, that's all. Wasn't it splendid about his getting the V.C.; and the King, so gracious, so kind...." She talked bravely on, and I tried to help her.
But suppose there wasn't any pressure; suppose there was nothing to remove; suppose.... And in my mind I saw the plot with the little wooden crosses; in my mind I heard the express for somewhere booming sullenly overhead. And I wondered ... shuddered.
Hugh met us at the door; dear old Hugh, looking as well as he ever did.
"Splendid, Ginger, old man! So glad you managed the leave all right."
"Not a hitch, Hugh. You're looking very fit."
"I am. Fit as a flea. You ask Elsie what she thinks."
His wife smiled. "You're just wonderful, old boy, except for your sleeplessness at night. I want him to see Sir William Cremer, Ginger, but he doesn't think it worth while."
"I don't," said Hugh shortly. "Damn that old sawbones."
In another man the remark would have passed unnoticed; but the chauffeur was there, and a maid, and his wife—and the expression was quite foreign to Hugh.