‘No, that’s going too far, my boy,’ he said. ‘You don’t know women till you’ve rolled about the world a bit. There’s many a chap that’s been disappointed with them in England that’s gone into the army and changed his mind. Now you’re another, like my friend here, that’s cut out for a gentleman’s life. There’s no saying that a fine chap like you mightn’t go a lot farther than I ever did. Athletics count a lot in the army. Football, cricket, and that. Upon my word, it’s just like a long holiday, and that’s the truth. A chap like you might be an officer before he finished with it.’ He crossed to Abner, took his arm, and whispered in his ear: ‘If you went out to Egypt where the second battalion is now, I could show you some places in Cay-ro as would soon change your mind about women. God, it’s a gentleman’s life, Egypt, with all the blacks to wait on you as if you was a lord! And whisky twopence a glass in the canteen! Women! I’d learn you about women.’ ‘I’ve learned all I want about _them_,’ said Abner sullenly. But he allowed the sergeant to stand him a drink, and found, as the time went on, that he was as good a fellow as he had ever met . . . he and the dark labouring man who sat at their table. When Abner’s money was finished, the sergeant behaved like a friend to him. ‘Money! What’s money?’ he said, and pulled out of his pocket a handful of silver that fell in a tinkling cascade on the marble-topped table. They sat and talked. The sergeant kept the ball rolling, patting Abner on the back and taking him by the arm with a friendly grip. He passed through a phase of exaltation into one of contented stupor, in which his only anxiety was where he should find lodging for the night. ‘Don’t you worry about that!’ said the sergeant. ‘I’ll see you through, my boy! You trust me. There’s just time for another.’ So, in a flash of brilliant light, the evening passed. A policeman put in his head at the door and disappeared. Abner found his new friend helping him to his feet. He laughed weakly, for he found that he could not stand. ‘Steady does it, my boy, steady does it. You holt on to me and you’ll be all right. God, you’re a tidy weight!’ They passed laughing through an uncomfortably narrow doorway and out into the road. Street lamps danced before them in an eddying line. The road had a resilient, velvety feeling, like no other road that Abner had known. They walked arm in arm, the three of them. Abner felt himself impelled to stop suddenly, and take the sergeant into his confidence. ‘Look here, kid,’ he said, ‘I’m boozed.’ ‘Boozed? Not a bit of it!’ said the sergeant, with an encouraging slap on the back. ‘Here, you’ll look after me?’ said Abner anxiously. ‘You bet I will!’ ‘You’re a good pal, kid,’ said Abner. ‘Straight, you are!’