“Is it me?” returned Wally. “Don’t believe him, Nor—it was all I could do to keep him from slapping the C.O. on the back and borrowing his car to come over.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Norah laughed. “Whose car did you borrow, by the way?”
“Oh, we hired one. It was extravagant, but we agreed that it wasn’t every day we kill a pig!”
“Thank you,” said Harry. “Years haven’t altered your power of putting a thing nicely!” He smote Wally affectionately. “I say, you were a kid when I saw you last: a kid in knickerbockers. And look at you now!”
“Well, you were much the same,” Wally retorted. “And now you’re a hardened old warrior—I’ve only played at it so far.”
“But you were gassed, weren’t you?”
“Yes—but we hadn’t had much war before they gassed us. That was the annoying part.”
“Well, didn’t you have a little private war in Ireland? What about that German submarine?”
“Oh, that was sheer luck,” said Wally joyfully. “Such a lark—only for one thing. But we don’t consider we’ve earned our keep yet.”
“Oh, well, you’ve got lots of time,” Harry said. “I wonder if they’ll send any of us to France—it would be rather fun if we got somewhere in your part of the line.”