"Can't afford it. I'm not going to do you in. These mugs are probably worth a good bit."
"That's all right, sir. We'd much rather 'ave ten francs apiece now, sir. We didn't neither of us get much last time we 'ad a pay."
"Whose fault was that?" asked Shaw.
"I'll give you," Donaldson said, "twenty francs each—all I can manage."
"Thank you, sir."
"And mind, I expect to see some of this sent home when I censor the letters. I wouldn't give you so much all at once if we were in a place where we could get beer——"
"Aren't we, though," put in Shaw, pointing to a drop of amber liquid in the tankard he held. "Smell that!"
Donaldson sniffed.
"Beer, and good beer at that," he pronounced. He looked enquiringly at the two Tommies. Alf gave himself up for lost, but not so Bill.
"Yes, sir," he said easily. "I noticed that meself."