' He cogitates as he returns to the ingle-nook. 'Somehow I
never thought I should be killed. Lots of fellows thought that about
themselves, but I never did. It was quite a surprise to me.'
'Oh, Dick!'
'What's the matter? Oh, I forgot. Face!' He is apparently looking down
at his father wonderingly. 'Haven't you got over it yet, father? I got
over it so long ago. I wish you people would understand what a little
thing it is.'
'Tell me,' very humbly; 'tell me, Dick.'
'All right.' He is in the chair again.
'Mind, I can't tell you where I was killed; it's against the
regulations.'
'I know where.'
Curiously, 'You got a wire, I suppose?'
'Yes.'
'There's always a wire for officers, even for 2nd Lieutenants. It's
jolly decent of them.'
'Tell me, Dick, about the--the veil. I mean the veil that is drawn
between the living and the----.'
'The dead? Funny how you jib at that word.'
'I suppose the veil is like a mist?'
'The veil's a rummy thing, father. Yes, like a mist. But when one has
been at the Front for a bit, you can't think how thin the veil seems to
get; just one layer of it.
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