'No, I don't think so, said Paul, and Beste‑Chetwynde gave him a friendly look, because, as a matter of fact, he had.
Captain Grimes linked arms with him outside the dining‑hall.
'Filthy meal, isn't it, old boy? he said.
'Pretty bad, said Paul.
'Prendy's on duty to‑night. I'm off to the pub. How about you?
'All right, said Paul.
'Prendy's not so bad in his way, said Grimes, 'but he can't keep order. Of course, you know he wears a wig. Very hard for a man with a wig to keep order. I've got a false leg, but that's different. Boys respect that. Think I lost it in the war. Actually, said the Captain, 'and strictly between ourselves, mind, I was run over by a tram in Stoke‑on‑Trent when I was one‑over‑the‑eight. Still, it doesn't do to let that out to everyone. Funny thing, but I feel I can trust you. I think we're going to be pals.
'I hope so, said Paul.
'I've been feeling the need of a pal for some time. The bloke before you wasn't bad ‑ a bit stand‑offish, though. He had a motor‑bike, you see. The daughters of the house didn't care for him. Have you met Miss Fagan?
'I've met two.