"I'm most fearfully sleepy," she said. "Have you had any adventures
lately--you and Samjoe?
"Samjoe?" repeated Mr. Lavender.
"Your chauffeur--I call him that. He's very like Sam Weller and Sancho
Panza, don't you think, Don Pickwixote?
"Ah!" said Mr. Lavender, bewildered; "Joe, you mean. A good fellow. He
has in him the sort of heroism which I admire more than any other."
"Which is that?" asked the young lady.
"That imperturbable humour in the face of adverse circumstances for
which our soldiers are renowned."
"You are a great believer in heroics, Don Pickwixote," said the young
lady.
"What would life be without them?" returned Mr. Lavender. "The war could
not go on for a minute."
"You're right there," said the young lady bitterly.
"You surely," said Mr. Lavender, aghast, "cannot wish it to stop until we
have destroyed our common enemies?"
"Well," said the young lady, "I'm not a Pacifist; but when you see as
many people without arms and legs as I do, heroics get a bit off, don't
you know." And she increased her pace until Mr. Lavender, who was not
within four inches of her stature, was almost compelled to trot. "If I
were a Tommy," she added, "I should want to shoot every man who uttered
a phrase.
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