"Well, I'm not so sure. There are lots of people with spectacles in the Army."
"And lots of flies in amber," I said, "but nobody seems to know how they came there."
Then Madingley got to business. His partner, who had enlisted in August, had developed lung trouble and had returned to civil life. Madingley was now free to go. He had heard from a friend that the 121st Rifles (a Territorial Regiment) had no conscientious objections to spectacles. Would I—(I thought it must be coming)—would I go and find out for him? He gave me the address of their head-quarters.
"You see I'm so horribly busy, old chap—clearing up at the office, and so on."
Well, of course I had to. Madingley's attitude of pained forgiveness, if one refuses him anything, is more than I can bear. Alter all, it didn't seem very much to do.
I began with the sentry outside.
"Can you tell me——" I said pleasantly. He scowled and jerked his head towards the door. I went in and tried another man. "Can you tell me——" I began. "Enlist?" he said. "Upstairs." I went upstairs and pushed open a door. "Can you tell me——" I said. "This is the canteen," answered a man in an apron....
At last I found a sergeant. "Enlist?" he said briskly. "Come in." I went in.
He leant against a table and I smiled at him pleasantly.
"I just wanted to ask," I said, "whether——"