“Hell, we'd better leave it here.”
Judkins swung the chicken by its neck round his head and threw it as hard as he could into the bushes.
They were walking along the road between chestnut trees that led to their village. It was dark except for irregular patches of bright moonlight in the centre that lay white as milk among the indentated shadows of the leaves. All about them rose a cool scent of woods, of ripe fruits and of decaying leaves, of the ferment of the autumn countryside.
The lieutenant sat at a table in the sun, in the village street outside the company office. In front of him sparkled piles of money and daintily tinted banknotes. Beside him stood Sergeant Higgins with an air of solemnity and the second sergeant and the corporal. The men stood in line and as each came before the table he saluted with deference, received his money and walked away with a self-conscious air. A few villagers looked on from the small windows with grey frames of their rambling whitewashed houses. In the ruddy sunshine the line of men cast an irregular blue-violet shadow, like a gigantic centipede, on the yellow gravel road.
From the table by the window of the cafe of “Nos Braves Poilus” where Small and Judkins and Chrisfield had established themselves with their pay crisp in their pockets, they could see the little front garden of the house across the road, where, behind a hedge of orange marigolds, Andrews sat on the doorstep talking to an old woman hunched on a low chair in the sun just inside the door, who leant her small white head over towards his yellow one.
“There ye are,” said Judkins in a solemn tone. “He don't even go after his pay. That guy thinks he's the whole show, he does.”
Chrisfield flushed, but said nothing. “He don't do nothing all day long but talk to that ole lady,” said Small with a grin. “Guess she reminds him of his mother, or somethin'.”
“He always does go round with the frogs all he can. Looks to me like he'd rather have a drink with a frog than with an American.”
“Reckon he wants to learn their language,” said Small. “He won't never come to much in this army, that's what I'm telling yer,” said Judkins.
The little houses across the way had flushed red with the sunset. Andrews got to his feet slowly and languidly and held out his hand to the old woman. She stood up, a small tottering figure in a black silk shawl. He leaned over towards her and she kissed both his cheeks vigorously several times. He walked down the road towards the billets, with his fatigue cap in his hand, looking at the ground.