How do you do? [They shake hands; and he takes
the chair on her right].
Mrs Bridgenorth goes out through the tower.
LESBIA. How are you, Boxer? You look almost as gorgeous as the
wedding cake.
THE GENERAL. I make a point of appearing in uniform whenever I
take part in any ceremony, as a lesson to the subalterns. It is
not the custom in England; but it ought to be.
LESBIA. You look very fine, Boxer. What a frightful lot of
bravery all these medals must represent!
THE GENERAL. No, Lesbia. They represent despair and cowardice. I
won all the early ones by trying to get killed. You know why.
LESBIA. But you had a charmed life?
THE GENERAL. Yes, a charmed life. Bayonets bent on my buckles.
Bullets passed through me and left no trace: thats the worst of
modern bullets: Ive never been hit by a dum-dum. When I was only
a company officer I had at least the right to expose myself to
death in the field. Now I'm a General even that resource is cut
off. [Persuasively drawing his chair nearer to her] Listen to me,
Lesbia. For the tenth and last time--
LESBIA [interrupting] On Florence's wedding morning, two years
ago, you said "For the ninth and last time."
THE GENERAL. We are two years older, Lesbia.
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