"S'pose its natural for 'er to let everybody know what she does, like
a 'en that lays a negg," my mate answered. "She's on this pyper or
that pyper every day. She's learnin' nursin' one day, learnin' to
drive an ambulance the next day, she doesn't carry a powder puff in
'er vanity bag at present----"
"Who said so?" I asked.
"It's 'ere in black and white," said Bill. "'Er vanity bag 'as given
place to a respirator, an' instead of a powder puff she now carries an
antiskeptic bandage. It makes me sick; it's all the same with women in
England. 'Ere's another picture called 'Bathin' as usual.' A dozen of
girls out in the sea (jolly good legs some of 'em 'as, too) 'avin' a
bit of a frisky. Listen what it says: 'Despite the trying times the
English girls are keepin' a brave 'eart----' Oh! 'ang it, Pat, they're
nothin' to the French girls, them birds at 'ome."
"What about that girl you knew at St. Albans?" I asked. "You remember
how she slid down the banisters and made toffee."
"She wasn't no class, you know," said Bill. (p. 287)
"She never answered the verse you sent from Givenchy, I suppose," I
remarked.
"It's not that----"
"Did she answer your letter saying she reciprocated your sentiments?"
I asked.
"Reshiperate your grandmother, Pat!" roared Bill. "Nark that language,
I say. Speak that I can understand you. Wait a minute till I
reshiperate that," he suddenly exclaimed pressing a charge into his
rifle magazine and curving over the parapet.
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