But what with the wind
and the noise and the downpour and the mud, I was too hot on the
other subject, and I said that Fortune ought to be ashamed of herself,
carrying on like that; and it was a disgraceful war and the police
ought to stop it, and I'd a very good mind to write to the papers
about it.
Then the next day would be fine and dry and warm, and it would be
early closing for the Bosch artillery, and the infantry would go
marching past my office window, whistling and singing and behaving as
if the whole thing was a jolly old picnic; and who'd be an inkslinger
in such weather? And Fortune, modestly intruding, would say to me
casually, "I think I've arranged that rather well, don't you?"
"Ah, you've arranged something at last, have you?" I'd say, assuming
that she must be thinking about me, and I'd open my official envelopes
with an unusual interest, feeling practically sure that one of them
must contain immediate orders for me--the one and only me--to proceed
forthwith to England and reorganise the War Office, taking over a
couple of six-cylinder cars and a furnished flat in St.
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