that the shoulder-strap of his Sam Browne belt, purchased that afternoon at the Ordnance, and therefore brand-new, did not match the abdominal part of the belt that he had had for nearly ten years—a splendid bit of leather, that!—answered nevertheless stoutly:
"Madam! If the brains of an army aren't, the life of an army is . . . in its feet. . . . And nowadays, the medical officers say, in its teeth. . . . Your husband, ma'am, is an admirable officer. . . . He says that no draft he turns out shall. . . . "
She said:
"He spent three hours in . . . You say, foot and kit inspection. . . . "
Second-Lieutenant Cowley said:
"Of course he had other officers to help him with the kit . . . but he looked at every foot himself. . . . "
She said:
"That took him from two till five. . . . Then he had tea, I suppose. . . . And went to . . . What is it? . . . The papers of the draft. . . . "
Second-Lieutenant Cowley said, muffled through his moustache:
"If the captain is a little remiss in writing letters . . . I have heard. . . . You might, madam . . . I'm a married man myself . . . with a daughter. . . . And the army is not very good at writing letters. . . . You might say, in that respect, that thank God we have got a navy, ma'am. . . . "
She let him stagger on for a sentence or two, imagining that, in his confusion, she might come upon traces of Miss Wannop in Rouen. Then she said handsomely:
"Of course you have explained everything, Mr. Cowley, and I am very much obliged. . . . Of course
