"Depends how short-sighted you are. Do you always wear them?"
"No, but I ought to really." I made a desperate effort to get Madingley back into the conversation. "I really only came to find out for a——"
"Ah, well, the best thing you can do," said the sergeant, "is to pass the medical examination first. You can sign the papers afterwards. Come along."
I followed him meekly downstairs. It was obviously not Madingley's afternoon.
We plunged downstairs into what was no doubt the anti-Zeppelin cellar. Through the gloom I saw dimly two or three pink-and-white figures waiting their turn to be thumped. Down the throat of a man in the middle of the room a doctor was trying to climb. Mechanically I began to undo my tie.
The sergeant spoke to one of the doctors and then came back to me.
"It'll save time if we do your sight first," he said. "Stand over in this corner."
I stood in the corner....
For a long time nothing happened.
"Well?" said the sergeant impatiently.