We had comfortably criticised our neighbours, and, laudatores temporis acti, had extolled the days of our youth.

I went to bed as well pleased with life as a man can be in this convulsion of the world.
The next morning she sent me a letter to read.

It was written at Boyce's dictation.

It ran: "Dear Mother: "I'm sorry to say I am knocked out pro tem.

I was fooling about where a C.O.