hunting for
the Tower. I'll show you a city that's alive; that is, unless
you've a preference for museums."

His listener laughed. "No, I want to see life, as they say."

"Umph! I'd like to set you down in some places I can think of.
Very well, I invite you to dine with me at the Savoy, the first
night we're in London. The curtain will rise on this world for
you. Nobody admitted who isn't in evening dress. The jewels will
dazzle you. Actresses, duchesses, all the handsomest women in
Europe."

"But I thought London was dark and gloomy since the war."

Victor smiled and teased his small straw-coloured moustache with
his thumb and middle finger. "There are a few bright spots left,
thank you!" He began to explain to a novice what life at the
front was really like. Nobody who had seen service talked about
the war, or thought about it; it was merely a condition under
which they lived. Men talked about the particular regiment they
were jealous of, or the favoured division that was put in for all
the show fighting. Everybody thought about his own game, his
personal life that he managed to keep going in spite of
discipline; his next leave, how to get champagne without paying
for it, dodging the guard, getting into scrapes with women and
getting out again. "Are you quick with your French?" he asked.

Claude grinned. "Not especially."

"You'd better brush up on it if you want to do anything with
French girls. I hear your M.P.'s are very strict. You must be
able to toss the word the minute you see a skirt, and make your
date before the guard gets onto you."

"I suppose French girls haven't any scruples?" Claude remarked
carelessly.

Victor shrugged his narrow shoulders. "I haven't found that girls
have many, anywhere. When we Canadians were training in England,
we all had our week-end wives. I believe the girls in Crystal
Lake used to be more or less fussy,--but that's long ago and far
away. You won't have any difficulty."

When Victor was in the middle of a tale of amorous adventure, a
little different from any Claude had ever heard, Tod Fanning
joined them. The aviator did not acknowledge the presence of a
new listener, but when he had finished his story, walked away
with his special swagger, his eyes fixed upon the distance.

Fanning looked after him with disgust. "Do you believe him? I
don't think he's any such heart-smasher. I like his nerve,
calling you `Leftenant'! When he speaks to me he'll have to say
Loote