Capt. M. Ah! I see. You don't want to fight, And by Jingo when we do,
You've got the kid, you've got the Wife,
You've got the money, too.
That's about the case, eh?
Capt. G. I suppose that's it. But it's not for myself. It's because of them. At least I think it is.
Capt. M. Are you sure? Looking at the matter in a cold-blooded light, the Wife is provided for even if you were wiped out tonight. She has an ancestral home to go to, money and the Brigadier to carry on the illustrious name.
Capt. G. Then it is for myself or because they are part of me. You don't see it. My life's so good, so pleasant, as it is, that I want to make it quite safe. Can't you understand?
Capt. M. Perfectly. “Shelter-pit for the Off'cer's charger,” as they say in the Line.
Capt. G. And I have everything to my hand to make it so. I'm sick of the strain and the worry for their sakes out here; and there isn't a single real difficulty to prevent my dropping it altogether. It'll only cost me—Jack, I hope you'll never know the shame that I've been going through for the past six months.
Capt. M. Hold on there! I don't wish to be told. Every man has his moods and tenses sometimes.
Capt. G. (Laughing bitterly.) Has he? What do you call craning over to see where your near-fore lands?
Capt. M. In my case it means that I have been on the Considerable Bend, and have come to parade with a Head and a Hand. It passes in three strides.
Capt. G. (Lowering voice.) It never passes with me, Jack. I'm always thinking about it. Phil Gadsby funking a fall on parade! Sweet picture, isn't it! Draw it for me.