"No imagination there," said Fitzgerald with an air of finality. "He couldn't be afraid, that creature. No soul. I dare ten thousand times as much to overcome my fear as that man would dare to win the V.C. When I go out on listening patrol I am always furthest out. I feel if I'm a yard behind the front man he'll consider me a coward, so I get out a yard ahead of him and I tremble all the time. "God! I had a bad dream last night," Fitzgerald remarked swinging from one topic to another. "I dreamt I saw a woman dressed in black looking into an empty grave." "That's a bad sign," said the sergeant. "You'll be damned unlucky the next time yer go up to the trenches. Ye'll never come back. Ye'll get done in." "Oh, I'll come back safe and sound," Fitzgerald replied in all seriousness. "The dream was a bad one and portended some evil." "And is it not bad enough to get done in?" asked Benners. "There are things worse than death," was Fitzgerald's answer. "Death is not the supreme evil. But women! It's not good to dream of them especially if they're red-haired. Did you ever dream of red-haired women, Bowdy?" Bowdy laughed but did not speak. Women apparently did not attract him much and in their company he was shy and diffident. Wanting to get away as quickly as possible from their presence he would rake up some imaginary appointment from the back of his head, ask to be excused and disappear. Behaviour of this kind though natural to Bowdy Benners was quite inexplicable to his mates. Fitzgerald having had a drop of wine was now in a mood to discuss womanhood. "You're too damned modest, Bowdy," he said. "And you don't shine in the company of the fair, dear women. You know the natural mission of woman is to please man, and man, no matter what he feels, should try and look pleased when in her company. If he looks bored what does that signify, Bowdy Benners? Eh? It means that he has found her ugly. That's an insult to the sex, to feminine charms and womanly qualities. For myself I'd much sooner sin and please a woman than pose as a saint and annoy her. Women don't like saints; what they want most in life is Love." "Love! Love is the only allurement in existence," said Fitzgerald rising to his feet. "It is the essence of life. Love, free and unrestrained, not tied to the pillars of propriety by the manacles of marriage. (That's a damned smart phrase, isn't it, Spudhole?) Love is sacred, marriage is not, marriage is governed by laws, love is not. Nature has given us love. It is an instinct and we shouldn't fight against it too much. Why should we fight against a gift from God? Some sacrilegious fool tried to improve on God's handiwork and made laws to govern love. It's like man to poke his nose in where it's not wanted. He'd give the Lord soda water at the Last Supper."