At lunch the reprobate appeared, looking downcast.
'Where have you been?' thundered S. Cohn, who, never growing older, imagined Simon likewise stationary.
'I went out for a walk—it was a fine morning.'
'And where did you go?'
'Oh, don't bother!'
'But I shall bother. Where did you go?'
He grew sullen. 'It doesn't matter—they won't have me.'
'Who won't have you?'
'The War Office.'
'Thank God!' broke from Mrs. Cohn.