course; but then, who wouldn't?

JAMES. [With a touch of philosophy] That's right--we all bars them
that tries to get something out of us.

L. ANNE. Who do you bar, James?

JAMES. Well--[Enjoying the luxury of thought]--Speaking generally, I
bar everybody that looks down their noses at me. Out there in the
trenches, there'd come a shell, and orf'd go some orficer's head, an'
I'd think: That might ha' been me--we're all equal in the sight o'
the stars. But when I got home again among the torfs, I says to
meself: Out there, ye know, you filled a hole as well as me; but here
you've put it on again, with mufti.

L. ANNE. James, are your breeches made of mufti?

JAMES. [Contemplating his legs with a certain contempt] Ah!
Footmen were to ha' been off; but Lord William was scared we wouldn't
get jobs in the rush. We're on his conscience, and it's on my
conscience that I've been on his long enough--so, now I've saved a
bit, I'm goin' to take meself orf it.

L. ANNE. Oh! Are you going? Where?

JAMES. [Assembling the last bottles] Out o' Blighty!

L. ANNE. Is a little blighter a little Englishman?

JAMES. [Embarrassed] Well-'e can be.