The mist seemed doubly cold and dark when he was buried in it again after his moment of sunlight. The sweat was chilled on his face and streaks of cold went through his clothes, soaked from the effort of carrying the pack. In the village street Andrews met a man he did not know and asked him where the office was. The man, who was chewing something, pointed silently to a house with green shutters on the opposite side of the street.
At a desk sat Chrisfield smoking a cigarette. When he jumped up Andrews noticed that he had a corporal's two stripes on his arm.
“Hello, Andy.”
They shook hands warmly.
“A' you all right now, ole boy?”
“Sure, I'm fine,” said Andrews. A sudden constraint fell upon them.
“That's good,” said Chrisfield.
“You're a corporal now. Congratulations.”
“Um hum. Made me more'n a month ago.”
They were silent. Chrisfield sat down in his chair again.