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Letters to Helen - Impressions of an Artist on the Western Front by Keith Henderson
page 72 of 104 (69%)
_December 4._

A staff job has been in the air several days. It may or may not come
off. I'm not very keen about it in many ways. But I've a feeling that I
could do it rather well, and so I'm not sure that I oughtn't to accept.

Jezebel and Swallow have quarrelled. Isn't it awful. Hunt has had to
put Tank in between them.

Jezebel kicked Swallow, and the blood fairly spouted out--got her in the
leg, and she lost her temper, and began lashing out. Hunt, with great
presence of mind, threw a bucket of water over them both. And as soon as
they were quiet, dear, good, demure little Tank was put in between them
as buffer.

It's a most dreadful nuisance. They used to get on so well together. I
hope they will leave that curious little Tank alone. Swallow is as lame
as a cat now. The accursed female is very exasperating, I fear. Hunt
quite irritated me for a moment when he remarked, after the incident:
"Oh, it's all right, sir. She was in one of her moods." I pointed out to
him that it was not all right. Whereupon he took it into his head that I
was strafing him, and muttered sulkily: "Well, sir, I must say I never
did like Abroad."

Which made me laugh to such an extent that I got a sort of fit of
laughing (don't you know?) and couldn't stop. Eventually I had to go
away. He looked so comic and so dejected, and his use of the word Abroad
(as if it were a country in itself) always makes me laugh idiotically. I
haven't seen him since, and it will be difficult to explain the apparent
frivolity.
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