f your boots.

MRS. G. (Within.) Who's destroying my son's character?

CAPT. M. And my Godson's. I'm ashamed of you, Gaddy. Punch your father
in the eye, Jack! Don't you stand it! Hit him again!

CAPT. G. (Sotto voce.) Put The Butcha down and come to the end of the
veranda. I'd rather the Wife didn't hear--just now.

CAPT. M. You look awf'ly serious. Anything wrong?

CAPT. G. 'Depends on your view entirely. I say, Jack, you won't think
more hardly of me than you can help, will you? Come further this
way.--The fact of the matter is, that I've made up my mind--at least I'm
thinking seriously of--cutting the Service.

CAPT. M. Hwhatt?

CAPT. G. Don't shout. I'm going to send in my papers.

CAPT. M. You! Are you mad?

CAPT. G. No--only married.

CAPT. M. Look here! What's the meaning of it all? You never intend to
leave us. You can't. Isn't the best squadron of the best regiment of the
best cavalry in all the world good enough for you?

CAPT. G. (Jerking his head over his shoulder.) She doesn't seem to
thrive in this God-forsaken country, and there's The Butcha to be
considered and all that, you know.

CAPT. M. Does she say that she doesn't like India?

CAPT. G. That's the worst of it. She won't for fear of leaving me.

CAPT. M. What are the Hills made for?

CAPT. G. Not for my wife, at any rate.

CAPT. M. You know too much, Gaddy, and--I don't like you any the better
for it!

CAPT. G. Never mind that. She wants England, and The Butcha would be all
the better for it. I'm going to chuck. You don't understand.

CAPT. M. (Hotly.) I understand this One hundred and thirty-seven new
horse to be licked into shape somehow before Luck comes round again; a
hairy-heeled draft who'll give more trouble than the horses; a camp next
cold weather for a certainty; ourselves the first on the roster; the
Russian shindy ready to come to a head at five minutes' notice, and you,
the best of us all, backing out of it all! Think a little, Gaddy. You
won't do it.

CAPT. G. Hang it, a man has some duties toward his family, I suppose.

CAPT. M. I remember a man, though, who told me, the night after
Amdheran, when we were picketed under Jagai, and he'd left his sword--by
the way, did you ever pay Ranken for that sword?--in an Utmanzai's
head--that man told me that he'd stick by me and the Pinks as long as
he lived. I don't blame him for not sticking by me--I'm not much of a
man--but I do blame him for not sticking by the Pink