I pointed out the absurdity of her suggestion. "Oh, we concocted all this, did we Fran? And when do you think we did that? After we spoke this morning...I went straight out for lunch, remember? And Connie I presume ate here." Never left the building," confirmed Connie."I saw you," said Fran dully. "You were sitting quietly in the corner by yourself staring into space. I thought it was odd because you're usually so gregarious and loud." Even in her confused state Fran realised this was rather a. His back ached and hehad the feeling that he had been doing everything wrong - lifting thingsincorrectly and putting undue strain on his muscles. He stared into themiddle distance for a minute, thinking about it and it came back to him -the lessons he'd learned as a boy about proper lifting technique. Now hethought of it he clearly remembered one of the old farmhands, a man namedJake, teaching him the right way to do it shortly after he startedworking at Griply.Burt sat back, ruminating over. Breakfast was a simple affair and I was soon able to sit back so as to digest both the meal and the latest news.As has become the case recently, the news was all of the Aegean campaign. On the front page there was an account of the Navy's engagements off Kos and the fight against insurgents in the Mani. One article on an inside page caught my eye however. "My Escape from Ottoman Hell" was the headline stretched over a picture of an obese Pasha sitting smugly cross-legged, sucking on a hookah. The guild of healers hadn't approved of the war, and had often outright refused to go into the battlefields, and sometimes even refused to heal injured soldiers."I don't have any use for healers," Goff muttered at me.I took a deep breath. "I can certainly understand how you feel. But I personally helped any soldier that came to me during the war, and --" Did you go to the front lines?" Goff interrupted. "Did you heal those who might've lived if you --" That's enough," Arden broke off Goff's.