"That chap seems very much attached to you," said Guillaumin.
"Pooh! He hopes to get some money out of me!"
A quartermaster-sergeant who had re-enlisted accosted us:
"I say, you're the N.C.O.'s of the 22nd, aren't you? Come and get changed: Then you can lend a hand ... with the men!"
We followed him to the clothing-store which had been installed in a yard.
An officer was there, a sub-lieutenant in the reserves, a young fellow with a fine head, and a long brown moustache, which he twirled mechanically. We reported ourselves to him. He timidly asked each one of us what our profession was.
"That's right!" he said approvingly; "quite right. Yes!"
There was a superb lot of regulation trousers, tunics, and greatcoats.
Guillaumin marvelled at them.