“You have, old man,” I replied.
Smith lay still for some time musing, then he said, “Whatever do they mean by forgiving enemies, Fred?”
Smith didn’t often get on these topics, and I was a little nervous as I replied, “What it says, I suppose.”
“Does it mean fellows like Hawkesbury?”
“I should say so,” said I, almost doubtful, from the way in which he spoke, whether after all I might not be mistaken.
“Queer,” was all he replied, musingly.
I tried hard to change the subject.
“Are you awfully sore, Jack?” I said. “Have one of my pillows.”
“Oh no, thanks. But I say, Fred, don’t you think it’s queer?”
“What, about forgiving your enemies? Well, yes it is, rather. But, I say, it’s time I cut back. Good-night, old man.”