"The same, sir," said Claud, standing rigidly to attention, full of suppressed mirth.
"Well, shake, old boy! How the devil are you? And, Tommy or no Tommy, you must have a bottle of fizz with me to-morrow night. Now, I'm not going to spoil sport. I've had an awful wigging from Miss Graham."
"My fiancée," interjected Claud.
"Lucky dog—put me down as your next-of-kin when you make your will. Good night."
"Good night," said the happy couple, passing on to the shade of the palms, where they renewed that love which is mightier than the sword.
CHAPTER VI
THE WISDOM OF "K"
It was a sweltering heat—a day to drink squash and be on a cool veranda. But war has no respect for feelings or conditions, so the Australian, New Zealander, and Lancashire men had to hoof it across the sun-baked desert. The troops were divided into three columns, each striking for a different point. They were bent on a combined scheme in which the "General Idea," "Special Idea," and other vague military terms figured large.
"Ain't the heat hellish? My nose is feeling like a banana, and my shirt's glued to my back! Wish I had joined the Camel Corps or Donkey Brigade. Gravel crushing's no good to me," growled Bill, changing his rifle for the hundredth time.