“What’s the matter with you as you are?”
“Fired out, sir. Sick.”
Sir Toby’s eye at last came to rest on Hugo’s disabled arm. He drew a blank form towards him. I played about with a cigarette-case.
“You can smoke,” he snarled. “What are they?”
“Virginian, sir.”
“Pah! You can’t smoke.”
He looked at Hugo.
“Sit down, Major.”
“Thank you, sir.”