The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. didn’t have to. “Cheer up, Annabel. She became aware of the Scotch student regarding her with stupendous amazement, a tea-cup poised in one hairy hand and his faceted glasses showing a various enlargement of segments of his eye.
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