“Yes, when I can. Aren’t you?”
“Now, Dormer. You know me better than that. Glory is my manna.”
“Will you take cold bully and tea with it?” asked Dormer as they dropped into the cellar.
Kavanagh made no objection, and they ate in silence, fast, for ten minutes. Then they saw the men were being fed, and relapsed, in their hiding-place, into pipes, and whisky out of Kavanagh’s flask.
“How did you get into this show?” Dormer asked.
“The Division—your old Division, my boy, left me here to hand over! They might have spared themselves the trouble. But I’d got a most lovely scheme of lateral communication. Corps gave me a lot of sweet words about it. I suppose I shall get the M.C. Now the silly old Hun has gone and blown it all to bits. What about you?”
“You know I got wrong and was sent home sick.”
“I heard all that. It was about that Vanderlynden affair, wasn’t it?”
“It was!”
“Well, you’ve no idea what a sensation you created. Vinyolles got simply wet behind the ears with it. Some French Deputy said, after the Somme show, that English troops did more damage to France than to Germany. Of course every one on Divisional H.Q. has changed in the last few months. They all established an alibi or Habeas Corpus or something. It was one of the things that made the French Press go for unity of command! You were a boon to them!”