Chapter Twenty-Six
McGavin scanned a letter from a soldier who clearly had left school, or skool as he would have spelled it, before crayons were put down and pencils picked up. Every third word was spelled phonetically, and even then it took several reads and actually saying the word aloud to understand what the writer was trying to say.
It was as he was attempting to sound out konstanbularyly that one junior censor, who had taken a real shine to the MP after his apparent ‘arrest’ for keeping with a general’s daughter, brought him a letter.
‘Thought you might find this interesting.’
Most of what the younger man had brought him so far was decidedly uninteresting, often full of s*x descriptions, which, while amusing and helped break the monotony, were unhelpful.
This time, however, the
