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Then he meant to shake off his companions and go where he could quench that inward fire. He loathed them as they followed, chatting pleasantly.... But above the hissing of the hot water from the faucets over the basins came presently another sound, most familiar to the ears of the gossiping Celts.... "Rifle-fire! Out on the veld over yonder." McFadyen's towel waved North. "Do ye hear it?"
"Or, rather, Taggart was; and as he has thirty diphtheria cases for tracheotomy at the Children's Hospital, and McFadyen's hands are full at the Refugees' Infirmary, the Major asks if I will take the duty. It's an order, I suppose, couched in a civil way." He swings the heavy wallet over his shoulders, and picks up his worn hunting-crop.
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