on the vileness of the morning after. Especially when there hadn't been a night before. An unprofitable meditation evidently, for suddenly, as if actuated by a single thought, the four young men rose from their four large chairs and again entered the motor-car.
The celebrated chemist whose pick-me-ups are known from Singapore to Alaska gazed at them severely.
"A very considerable bend, gentlemen," he remarked.
"Quite wrong," answered the whitest and most haggard of the row. "We are all confirmed Pussyfoots, and have been consuming non-alcoholic beer."
Once more to the scrunch of acid-drops the four young men entered the car outside; once more, after a brief and silent drive, four large chairs in the smoking-room of the Junior Sports Club received an occupant. And it was so, even until luncheon time.…
"Are we better?" said Hugh, getting to his feet, and regarding the other three with a discerning eye.
"No," murmured Toby, "but I am beginning to hope that I may live. Four Martinis and then we will gnaw a cutlet."
"Has it struck you fellows," remarked Hugh, at the conclusion of lunch, "that seated round this table are four officers who fought with some distinction and much discomfort in the recent historic struggle?"
"How beautifully you put it, old flick!" said Darrell.
"Has it further struck you fellows," continued Hugh, "that last night we were done down, trampled