'
'For what?' said the Lion.
'Glory.'
'No,' returned the Lion, with supreme indifference. 'I don't. You're
right in that, Mr Willet. When Glory comes here, and calls for anything
to drink and changes a guinea to pay for it, I'll give it him for
nothing. It's my belief, sir, that the Glory's arms wouldn't do a very
strong business.'
These remarks were not at all comforting. Joe walked out, stopped at
the door of the next room, and listened. The serjeant was describing
a military life. It was all drinking, he said, except that there were
frequent intervals of eating and love-making. A battle was the finest
thing in the world--when your side won it--and Englishmen always did
that. 'Supposing you should be killed, sir?' said a timid voice in one
corner. 'Well, sir, supposing you should be,' said the serjeant, 'what
then? Your country loves you, sir; his Majesty King George the Third
loves you; your memory is honoured, revered, respected; everybody's fond
of you, and grateful to you; your name's wrote down at full length in a
book in the War Office. Damme, gentlemen, we must all die some time, or
another, eh?'
The voice coughed, and said no more.
Joe walked into the room.
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