He gurgled as if trying to communicate. Half an hour's labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow. ‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me. People, nobody, can do as they like in this world. I asked him why, and he hadn’t a reason. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. A sacrifice. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. "Hist!" exclaimed Jack. ” “No, don’t say that.
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