We're to start--report says--at the end of the week, and I
must be sent up to collect a few service odds-and-ends. As for
sleeping, I'll ring up Jephson, and if he's already conscripted, I
can doss at the Club. All that is easy. But tell me, what is the
matter?"
"Oh! I can't here." Constantia's voice thrilled on the wire.
"It's pretty awful. I never gave him leave--_never_!"
"You're getting pretty incoherent," said I. "We'll have it out when
we meet. Dinner? . . . No, I shall pick up a meal on the train.
. . . Mustn't expect me before 8.30; I have to put a draft through
and see them off. Odd jobs, besides. . . . These are strenuous
times."
"Roddy, you're an angel!"
"Not a bit," said I; "and I warn you not to expect me in that
capacity. You'll observe that I haven't congratulated you yet."
I put this in rather savagely.
"You're also rather a brute," answered the voice. "But you'll come?"
"Please God," said I.
"Thank God!" answered she; and I hung up the receiver.
Well, in my jubilation I had forgotten to ask for leave to run
up and get kit.
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