“Your career——”
He cursed his career.
“Your soldier’s post. How can you leave it? You’re doing a man’s work for your country.”
“Hell take it!” said he.
“Take what?”
“The whole infernal universe,” he growled, and swerved viciously so as to avoid imminent collision with an indignant motor-bus. Again they came to the bed-rock fact of his soldier’s duty.
On their return journey it rained in torrents.
“You’ll get wet through if you walk,” said he, when they arrived at their trysting spot. “I’ll drive you up to the house and chance it.”
He chanced it, helped her out of the car and stood on the pavement, watching her until she had let herself in with her latchkey. She ran upstairs, to be confronted with her husband at the door of his room which was on the same landing. He was in his dressing-gown, and one side of his face was shaven, the other lathered.
“I thought you went to a canteen in the mornings?”