Why on earth
didn't he answer it, Smith thought. But he was calmer now, and the
Squire and Sir Munion were talking of Sergeant Cane.
``Leave him to me,'' said Sir Munion.
``Very well,'' said the Squire. So Sir Munion Boomer-Platt went off
and called on Sergeant Cane.
Mrs Cane knew what he had come for.
``Don't let him talk you over, Bill,'' she said.
``Not he,'' said Sergeant Cane.
Sir Munion came on Sergeant Cane in his garden.
``A fine day,'' said Sir Munion. And from that he went on to the war.
``If you enlist,'' he said, ``they will make you a sergeant again at
once. You will get a sergeant's pay, and your wife will get the new
separation allowance.''
``Sooner have Cane,'' said Mrs Cane.
``Yes, yes, of course,'' said Sir Munion. ``But then there is the
medal, probably two or three medals, and the glory of it, and it is
such a splendid life.''
Sir Munion did warm to a thing whenever he began to hear his own
words. He painted war as it has always been painted, one of the most
beautiful things you could imagine. And then it mustn't be supposed
that it was like those wars that there used to be, a long way off.
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