And
he mentioned a lot of men that I am dead sure never were up at
Pont-a-Mousson,--either before or after I was there. Names I had
never heard before in my life. And, confound it, the way he lifted
his eyebrows made me feel for a minute or two that I hadn't been
there myself. He says that since his injury and his sicknesses his
memory isn't the best, but when I spoke of some of the fellows who
were there with me, he remembered them perfectly. Didn't know them
well, because he wasn't with the bunch very long, it seems. When I
remarked that he must see a good bit of the chaps who live in New
York City, he told me he had been sick ever since he came home from
England and hadn't seen one of the crowd. He said he knew Pottle,
and Fay, and Tyler, Sudbery and several others,--so I'm going to
write to all of them tomorrow."
"It would be terrible, Addy, if she were to--"
"Mind you, old girl, I'm not saying this fellow isn't square," he
interrupted. "He may be all he says he is. He's got me guessing,
that's all."
"She says he has the croix de guerre and a D. S. medal."
He looked at her pityingly. "I've got a couple of Iron Crosses,
old dear, but that doesn't mean I had 'em pinned on me by a Boche
general. I've also got a German helmet, but I got it the same way
I got the Crosses,--off of a German whose eyes were closed. Anyhow,
I'd like to see his medals.
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