"You have been shooting?" said Diana.

He admitted it.

"That's what you enjoy?"

He flushed.

"More than anything in the world."

But he looked at his questioner a little askance, as though uncertain
how she might take so gross a confession.

Diana laughed, and hoped he got as much as he desired. Then he was not
like his father--who cared so much for books?

"Oh, books!" He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, the fact is, I--I don't
often read if I can help it. But of course they make you do a lot of
it--with these beastly examinations. They've about spoiled the army
with them."

"You wouldn't do it for pleasure?"

"What--reading?" He shook his head decidedly. "Not while I could be
doing anything else."

"Not history or poetry?"

He looked at her again nervously. But the girl's face was gay, and he
ventured on the truth.