"I've got to be at the War Office later," he said, "but my man doesn't reach town till after ten, so I will.

The club's not over-attractive these days.

What with the men who think one knows everything and won't tell, and the men who think they know everything and want to tell, it's a bit trying." Hilda laughed merrily.

"Poor Uncle Bob," she said, giving him her childhood's name that had never been discontinued between them.

"You shall come home with me, and sit in father's chair, and have a still decent whisky and a cigar, and if you're very good I'll read you part of Peter's letter." "What would Peter say ?" "Oh, he wouldn't mind the bits I'll read to you.