“Um.” Handsome grunted.
“Sit down there. If you move you'll git a bullet in your guts.”
The M. P. stuck out a square jaw; he had a sallow skin, puffy under the eyes that were grey and lustreless.
“He says he's in some goddam School Detachment. First time that's been pulled, ain't it?”
“School Detachment. D'you mean an O. T. C?” Bill sank laughing into his chair by the window, spreading his legs out over the floor.
“Ain't that rich?” said Handsome, laughing shrilly again.
“Got any papers on ye? Ye must have some sort of papers.”
Andrews searched his pockets. He flushed.
“I ought to have a school pass.”
“You sure ought. Gee, this guy's simple,” said Bill, leaning far back in the chair and blowing smoke through his nose.