‘There’s a woman through the wall that would be very willing to give me a shakedown till your leave is up.’
He snorts.
‘Oh, is there!’
She has not got him yet, but there is still one more gun.
‘Kenneth, look!’
With these simple words she lets down the bed. She says no more; an effect like this would be spoilt by language. Fortunately he is not made of stone. He thrills.
‘My word! That’s the dodge we need in the trenches.’
‘That’s your bed, Kenneth.’
‘Mine?’ He grins at her. ‘You queer old divert. What can make you so keen to be burdened by a lump like me?’
‘He! he! he! he!’