Chapter 35

Annister stared. Then, producing his cigar-case, lighting a long, black invincible, the twin to which the conductor had selected, he remarked casually: “They’re good cigars.... In the trenches we smoked ‘Woodbines’—a cross between tar-heel and alfalfa; you have a lot of alfalfa out here, eh? And the ‘third light,’ as we used to call it, most always got his—three men lighting up from the same match, you know.” His tone abruptly hardened; the glance that he turned upon the conductor now was like a lance of flame. “We…