“I quite agree with you. Since then I’ve learned manners.”
“You also made me squirm at the idea of scooping out Boches’ insides with bayonets.”
“And you’ve learned not to squirm, so we’re quits.”
“You thought me a rotten ass in those days, didn’t you?”
Oliver looked at him squarely.
“I don’t think it would hurt you now if I said that I did.” He laughed, stretched himself on his chair, thrusting both hands into his trouser pockets. “In many ways, it’s a jolly good old war, you know—for those that pull through. It has taught us both a lot, Marmaduke.”
Doggie wrinkled his forehead in his half-humorous way.
“I wish it would teach people not to call me by that silly name.”
“I have always abominated it, as you may have observed,” said Oliver. “But in our present polite relations, old chap, what else is there?”
“You ought to know——”