"Where did they get you?" he asked.
"In my beard," said I, "left side of the jaw. Also right ankle and a souvenir under the ribs."
"Lame?"
"Still a little, but improving."
"The beard is quite becoming," he observed.
"Look at it well then while you have the chance for they say they'll let me shave it in a week."
"You're well on the mend then?"
"Thank the Lord."
"Then I needn't give you any more sympathy. Congratulations instead."
"On getting a bit of Blighty?"