"Thank you," Fergus said, taking the invitation offered and sitting down at the end of the table with Luke. His mouth watered over the fare that was brought to them, and after a moment's customary reverie, tucked in with a will. "Nothing fancy, this, he said after a moment, but it's good as far as basic fare goes. S' better than what the army throws at you. 'Course, almost anythin' would beat that. Africa was not a 'triumphant campaign,'" he said, derisively. "I was a fifer-- 'til I got off the boat an' they put a rifle in me hands. I did my dirty little bit, then hightailed it out and back 'ome to County Clare as soon as they'd let me."
He stifled a shiver; Islandwana was not a memory he enjoyed, and the failure of the farm and the scattering of family after his homecoming all blended together with it into the semblance of a horrible dream. "America'll be an improvement, whatever 'appens. To the future!" he toasted with fervor, with his icewater, as he tucked in once more.