A fine fellow, Hale, as brave as a lion.

He told endless stories, which one could hardly ever understand, and he laughed at them so much himself that he usually forgot to finish them.

Rudolf de Trafford was there, and old Inge, a much-travelled man; also Macintosh, a Parisian Scot.
It was very peaceful; no one dreamt that shells were soon to come crashing through that old chateau.

Ernest Courage, with his eyeglass fixed in his cap, used to come into Amiens and finish lunch with his usual toast, and then sing Vesta Tilly's great old song:-- "Jolly good luck to the girl who loves a soldier.

(p.