People have complained sometimes--defaulters, say, in the old days--that there can be a beastly, nasty look in them.
"What do you mean, Major ?" he asked.
"Sergeant Marigold," said I, "is a brave, patriotic Englishman who has given his country all he can spare from the necessary physical equipment to carry on existence; and it's making him hang-dog miserable that he's not allowed to give the rest to-morrow.

You must forgive his plain speaking," I continued, gathering warmth as I went on, "but he can't understand healthy young fellows like you not wanting to do the same.

And, for the matter of that, my dear Randall, neither do I.Why aren't you serving your country ?" He started forward in his chair and threw out his arms, and his dark eyes flashed and a smile of conscious rectitude overspread his clear-cut features.
"My dear Major--serving my country?
Why, I'm working night and day for it.

You don't understand." "I've already told you I don't." The boy was my guest.

I had not intended to hold a pistol to his head in one hand and dangle a suit of khaki before his eyes in the other.