Them rugs! They're fit for a general's house.

It seems to me it oughter be against the regulations for privates to have such rugs when sergeants' wives has to buy rugs off the bargain counter." Mrs.McGillicuddy stood stiffly upon her rank as a sergeant's wife and believed in keeping the soldiers' wives where they belonged.
"I don't fancy Mr.Broussard is living in luxury himself just now," said Mrs.Fortescue.

And Mrs.McGillicuddy's kind heart, being touched with remorse for having given Broussard a pin prick, hastened to say: "No, indeed, mum, for McGillicuddy heard Major Harlow readin' a letter from Mr.Broussard, and he says as how he lives on bananas and has got only two shirts, and his striker has to wash one of 'em out every day for Mr.Broussard to wear the next day.

McGillicuddy says that Major Harlow says that Mr.Broussard says that he don't mind it a bit, and he's glad to see real service and proud to command the men that is with him, and they behaves splendid." Anita fixed her eyes on Mrs.McGillicuddy's honest, rubicund face, and listened breathlessly as Mrs.McGillicuddy continued: "And Mr.Broussard says the Philippines is one big hell full of little hells, and nobody can get warm there in winter, or cool in summer, but there's lots of life to be seen there, and he's a-seein' it.

And Blizzard is so far away, he can't sometimes believe there ever was such a place." Suddenly, without the least warning, a quick warm gush of tears fell on Anita's cheeks.