Doggie wrinkled his forehead in his half-humorous way. "I wish it would teach people not to call me by that silly name." "I have always abominated it, as you may have observed," said Oliver. "But in our present polite relations, old chap, what else is there?" "You ought to know----" Oliver stared at him. "You don't mean----?" "Yes, I do." "But you used to loathe it and I went on calling you 'Doggie' because I knew you loathed it. I never dreamed of using it now." "I can't help it," replied Doggie. "The name got into the army and has stuck to me right through, and now those I love and trust most in the world, and who love and trust me, call me 'Doggie,' and I don't seem to be able to answer to any other name. So, although I'm only a Tommy and you're a devil of a swell of a second-in-command, yet if you want to be friendly--well----" Oliver leaned forward quickly. "Of course I want to be friends, Doggie, old chap. As for major and private--when you pass me in the street you've dam well got to salute me, and that's all there is to it--but otherwise it's all rot. And now we've got to the heart-to-heart stage, don't you think you're a bit of a fool?" "I know it," said Doggie cheerfully. "The army has drummed that into me, at any rate." "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. The only real happiness I've had in my life has been as a Tommy. I'm not talking through my hat. The only real friends I've ever made in my life are Tommies. I've found real things as a Tommy and I'm not going to start all over again to find them in another capacity." "You wouldn't have to start all over again," Oliver objected. "Oh yes, I should. Don't run away with the idea that I've been turned by a miracle into a brawny hero. I'm not anything of the sort. To have to lead men into action would be a holy terror. The old dread of seeking new paths still acts, you see. I'm the same Doggie that wouldn't go out to Huaheine with you. Only now I'm a private and I'm used to it. I love it and I'm not going to change to the end of the whole gory business. Of course Peggy doesn't like it," he added after a sip of wine. "But I can't help that. It's a matter of temperament and conscience--in a way, a matter of honour." "What has honour got to do with it?" asked Oliver.