"—wait, I'm not done yet—Sir Tor, Sir Gauter, Sir Gillimer—"
"The very best man in my subordinate nine. What a handy right-fielder he was!"
"—Sir Reynold's three brothers, Sir Damus, Sir Priamus, Sir Kay the Stranger—"
"My peerless short-stop! I've seen him catch a daisy-cutter in his teeth. Come, I can't stand this!"
"—Sir Driant, Sir Lambegus, Sir Herminde, Sir Pertilope, Sir Perimones, and—whom do you think?"
"Rush! Go on."
"Sir Gaheris, and Sir Gareth—both!"
"Oh, incredible! Their love for Launcelot was indestructible."
"Well, it was an accident. They were simply onlookers; they were unarmed, and were merely there to witness the queen's punishment. Sir Launcelot smote down whoever came in the way of his blind fury, and he killed these without noticing who they were. Here is an instantaneous photograph one of our boys got of the battle; it's for sale on every news-stand. There—the figures nearest the queen are Sir Launcelot with his sword up, and Sir Gareth gasping his latest breath. You can catch the agony in the queen's face through the curling smoke. It's a rattling battle-picture."
"Indeed, it is. We must take good care of it; its historical value is incalculable. Go on."