"Oh no, my leg ain't hurting me."
"Then what's the matter? You seem rather melancholy."
"I've been thinkin'," said Smith still more gloomily, "of me future."
"Your future?"
"Yes. A man lyin' on a sick bed gets queer notions into his head, especially if he's got brains."
"But why should you worry about the future?" asked the girl, puzzled. "Your leg will soon be all right, and you'll be able to go on duty again."
"The fact is," replied Smith, suddenly becoming confidential, "I'm thinking of settlin' down."
"Yes?"
"A man like me, who's always led a rovin' life, so to speak, wants an anchor. A home and wife and kids, and so on."
"Then you're thinking of getting married?" asked the girl innocently.