pulled off her gloves, "they've been altering him. They always do that in the Army. You get engaged to a captain and you find you have to marry a general. It's so stupid. It's like buying a kitten and getting a kangaroo-pup sent home."
"But aren't you pleased?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton, at a loss to understand Patricia's mood.
"No!" snapped Patricia, who was already feeling the reaction. "It's like being engaged to a chameleon, or a quick-change artist. They've made him a 'R.S.O.' as well." Under her lashes Patricia saw, with keen appreciation, the quick glances that were exchanged.
"You mean a D.S.O., Distinguished Service Order," explained Mr. Bolton. "An R.S.O. is er—er—something you put on letters."
"Is it?" enquired Patricia innocently, "I'm so stupid at remembering such things."
"He was wearing the ribbon of the Military Cross, too," bubbled Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.
"Was he?" Patricia was afraid of overdoing the pose of innocence she had adopted. "What a nuisance."
"A nuisance!" There was surprised impatience in Miss Wangle's voice.
Patricia turned to her sweetly. "Yes, Miss Wangle. It gives me such a lot to remember. Now let me see." She proceeded to tick off each word upon her fingers. "He's a Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Bowen, D.S.O., M.C. Is that right?"
