THE "KNUT"
We were sitting round the fire in the club, discussing that individual colloquially known as the "knut."
"The 'knut,'" said Green, "is now virtually extinct, he is killed by war. As soon as he gets anywhere near a trench, he drops his cloak of affectation, and becomes a reasonable human being—always excepting, of course, certain young subalterns on the staff."
Rawlinson leant forward in his chair. "I'm not sure," he said, "that I agree with you. It all depends upon how you define a 'knut.'"
"A 'knut' is a fellow with a drawl and an eyeglass," said someone.
"That just fits my man. I know of an exception to your rule. I know of a 'knut' who did not disappear at the front."
"Tell us about him," suggested Jepson.
Rawlinson hesitated, and glanced round at each of us in turn. "It's not much of a story," he said at length, "but it stirred me up a bit at the time—I don't mind telling it you if you think it sufficiently interesting."
We filled up our glasses, and lay back in our chairs to listen to the following tale: