The new-comer turned quickly. 

 “Why, hullo,” he said, “if it isn’t Maurice Strangwise! But, good heavens, man, surely I saw your name in the casualty list... missing, wasn’t it?” 

 “Yep!” replied the other smiling, “that’s so! It’s a long story and it’ll keep! But tell me about yourself... this,” he kicked the kit-bag with the toe of his boot, “looks like a little leave! Just in from France?” 

 He smiled again, baring his firm, white teeth, and looking at him Desmond suddenly remembered, as one recalls a trifle, his trick of smiling. It was a frank enough smile but... well, some people smile too much. 

 “Got in just now by the leave train,” answered Desmond. 

 “How much leave have you got?” asked Strangwise. 

 “Well,” said the other, “it’s a funny thing, but I don’t know!” 

 “Say, are they giving unlimited leave over there now?” 

 Desmond laughed. 

 “Hardly,” he replied. “But the War Office just applied for me to come over and here I am! What they want me for, whether it’s to advise the War Council or to act as Quartermaster to the Jewish Battalion I can’t tell you! I shan’t know until tomorrow morning! In the meantime I’m going to forget the war for this evening!” 

 “What are you going to do to-night?” asked Strangwise. 

 Desmond began to check off on his fingers. 

 “Firstly, I’m going to fill the biggest bath in this hotel with hot water, get the biggest piece of Pears’ soap in London, and jump in: Then, if my tailor hasn’t betrayed me, I’m going to put on dress clothes, and whilst I am dressing summon Julien (if he’s maitre d’hôtel here) to a conference, then I’m going to eat the best dinner that this pub can provide. Then...” 

 Strangwise interrupted him. 

 “The bath is on you, if you like,” he said, “but the dinner’s on me and a show afterwards. I’m at a loose end, old man, and so are you, so we’ll hit up together! We’ll dine in the restaurant here at 7.30, and Julien shall come up to your room so that you can 

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