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Updated: June 18, 2025
She had brought him flowers, cigarettes of the exquisite kind that Doggie used to smoke, chocolates.... She sat down by his bedside. "All this is more than gracious, Mrs. Manningtree," said Phineas. "To a vieux routier like me, it is a wee bit overwhelming." "It's very little to do for Doggie's best friend." Phineas's eyes twinkled.
As they looked on French cigarettes with sturdy British contempt, they were not interested in Doggie's purchases. A wan girl of thirteen rose from behind the counter. "Vous désirez, monsieur?" Doggie stated his desire. The girl was calculating the price of the packets before wrapping them up, when his eyes fell upon a neat little pile of cornets in a pigeon-hole at the back.
Perhaps something even higher. Perhaps, in essence, the very highest. The Poet-Warrior. The term struck Doggie's brain with a thud, like the explosive fusion of two elements. During his walk to Kensington Gardens a poisonous current had run at the back of his mind. Drifting on it, might he not escape? Was he not of too fine a porcelain to mingle with the coarse and common pottery of the ranks?
Just the thing!" cried Jack, seizing it, and whistling to Dumps. "And here's a first-rate helmet," said Harry, producing a toy drum with the heads out. The strong contrast between my doggie's conditions of grigginess and humiliation has already been referred to. Aware that something unusual was pending, he crawled towards Jack with every hair trailing in lowly submission.
"What hae ye in yer bit basket the day, Ma'colm?" she said, with a peculiar smile, which was not sweet enough to restore vanished confidence. "Naething guid for dogs," answered Malcolm, and was walking past. But she made a step forward, and, with a laugh meant to indicate friendly amusement, said, The doggie's awa on 's traivels the day."
"Mademoiselle," said he, in his best Durdlebury manner, "may I dare to present my two comrades, my best friends in the battalion, Monsieur McPhail, Monsieur Shendish?" She made them each a little formal bow, and then, somewhat maliciously, addressing McPhail, as the bigger and the elder of the two: "I don't yet know the name of your friend." Phineas put his great hand on Doggie's shoulder.
I'm quite stifling." Mrs. Cameron laid a firm, fat hand upon the window cord, and bent again over the pampered Scorpion. "And is my doggie's asthma not to be considered for the sake of somebody who ought not to be here, who was never invited nor wished for, and is now to be returned like a bad penny to where she came from? Is my own dearest little dog to suffer for such a person's whims?
The outlook, as conveyed in speech, was grossly materialistic. From the language of the canteen he recoiled in disgust. He could not reconcile it with the nobler attributes of the users. It was in vain for Phineas to plead that he must accept the lingua franca of the British Army like all other things appertaining thereto. Doggie's stomach revolted against most of the other things.
If you want to grouse, grouse away. That's what I'm talking to you for." "I'm perfectly happy, sir." "Darn sight more than I am!" laughed the subaltern, and with a cheery nod in acknowledgment of Doggie's salute, splashed down the muddy trench.
"I mean in staying in the ranks. Why don't you apply for the Cadet Corps and so get through to a commission again?" Doggie's brow grew dark. "I had all that out with Peggy long ago when things were perhaps somewhat different with me. I was sore all over. I dare say you can understand. But now there are other reasons, much stronger reasons.
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