“I wanted to come,” Cohn said, “but I thought I ought to bring them.”
“You bring us. What rot.”
“Was it really good?” Mike asked. “Did you take many?”
“Some days we took a dozen apiece. There was an Englishman up there.”
“Named Harris,” Bill said. “Ever know him, Mike? He was in the war, too.”
“Fortunate fellow,” Mike said. “What times we had. How I wish those dear days were back.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
“Were you in the war, Mike?” Cohn asked.
“Was I not.”
“He was a very distinguished soldier,” Brett said. “Tell them about the time your horse bolted down Piccadilly.”
“I’ll not. I’ve told that four times.”
“You never told me,” Robert Cohn said.
“I’ll not tell that story. It reflects discredit on me.”
“Tell them about your medals.”
“I’ll not. That story reflects great discredit on me.”
“What story’s that?”