My man Paddock had gone to the wars long ago, so I had shifted to one of the new blocks in Park Lane where they provide food and service.

I kept the place on to have a home to go to when I got leave.

It's a miserable business holidaying in an hotel.
Sandy was devouring tea-cakes with the serious resolution of a convalescent.
'Well, Dick, what's the news?
Is it a brass hat or the boot ?' 'Neither,' I said.

'But you and I are going to disappear from His Majesty's forces.

Seconded for special service.' 'O my sainted aunt!' said Sandy.