"Eh?" He looked up at her.
"Before you had to come here, I mean? Oh, do talk for a minute," she begged.
"Sorry," he said. "I was in the army."
"And was it rather awful to have to give up and nurse yourself?"
"Well!" He glanced at her consideringly, as though to measure her intelligence. "It was rough," he admitted. "You see, the army 's not like barristering, for instance. It 's not a thing you can drop for a bit and then take up again; once you 're out, you 're out for good." He paused. "And I meant it," he added.
"Meant it?"
"Yes, there 's a chance nowadays for a chap with a turn for soldiering. There 's a lot to know, you see, and, well—I was by way of knowing it. That 's all."
He turned to his canvas again, but did not fall to work. Margaret saw his back, thin under his silk coat but flat and trim as a drilled man's should be.
"So for you, it meant the end of everything?" she suggested.
"Looks like it, doesn't it!" he answered. "Still—we 'll see. They trained me and there 's just a chance, in the event of a row, that they might have a use for me. They 'd be short of officers who knew the game. You see—"