trained as an interpreter."





THE BLUE CURTAINS



I

In his regiment familiarly they called him "Bottles," nobody quite knew
why. It was, however, rumoured that he had been called "Bottles" at
Harrow on account of the shape of his nose. Not that his nose was
particularly like a bottle, but at the end of it was round and large and
thick. In reality, however, the sobriquet was more ancient than that,
for it had belonged to the hero of this story from babyhood. Now, when
a man has a nickname, it generally implies two things: first, that he is
good-tempered, and, secondly, that he is a good fellow. Bottles, _alias_
John George Peritt, of a regiment it is unnecessary to name, amply
justified both these definitions, for a kindlier-tempered or better
fellow never breathed. But unless a thick round nose, a pair of small
light-coloured eyes, set under bushy brows, and a large but not badly
shaped mouth can be said to constitute beauty, he was not beautiful.
On the other hand, however, he was big and well-formed, and a
pleasant-mannered if a rather silent companion.

Many years ago Bottles was in love; all the regiment knew it, he was so
very palpably and completely in love. Over his bed in his tidy quarters