Aren't three lengths enough for you?
Capt. G. Yes--quite enough. They just allow for the full development of the
smash. I'm talking like a cur, I know: but I tell you that, for the past three
months, I've felt every hoof of the squadron in the small of my back every time
that I've led.
Capt. M. But, Gaddy, this is awful!
Capt. G. Isn't it lovely? Isn't it royal? A Captain of the Pink Hussars
watering up his charger before parade like the blasted boozing Colonel of a
Black Regiment!
Capt. M. You never did!
Capt. G. Once only. He squelched like a mussuck, and the Troop-Sergeant-Major
cocked his eye at me. You know old Haffy's eye. I was afraid to do it again.
Capt. M. I should think so. That was the best way to rupture old Van Loo's
tummy, and make him crumple you up. You knew that.
Capt. G. I didn't care. It took the edge off him.
Capt. M. "Took the edge off him"? Gaddy, you--you--you mustn't, you know! Think
of the men.
Capt. G. That's another thing I am afraid of. D'you s'pose they know?
Capt. M. Let's hope not; but they're deadly quick to spot skirm--little things
of that kind. See here, old man, send the Wife Home for the hot weather and
come to Kashmir with me. We'll start a boat on the Dal or cross the Rhotang--
shoot ibex or loaf--which you please.
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