"
"Let us hope so," she sighed dubiously. "It's no use my sending
out things for him, as they always go wrong. Some time ago I sent
him three brace of grouse and three brace of partridges. He didn't
acknowledge them for weeks, and then he said they were most handy
things to kill Germans with, but were an expensive form of
ammunition. I don't quite know what he meant--but at any rate they
were not eatable when they arrived. Poor fellow!" She sighed
again. "If only I knew what was the matter with him."
"It can't be much," I reassured her, "or you would have heard
again. And this news will act like a sovereign remedy."
She patted the back of my hand with her plump palm. "You're always
so sympathetic and comforting."
"I'm an old soldier, like Leonard," said I, "and never meet
trouble halfway."
At lunch, the old lady insisted on opening a bottle of champagne,
a Veuve Clicquot which Leonard loved, in honour of the glorious
occasion. We could not drink to the hero's health in any meaner
vintage, although she swore that a teaspoonful meant death to her,
and I protested that a confession of champagne to my medical
adviser meant a dog's rating.
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