He bought her a paper, too, and they sat on a long bench, exchanging comments on the news that made almost every front page a chapter in world history. She heard him groan with rage. When she looked up he pointed to the submarine record of that week. "Last week the losses took a horrible jump--forty ships of over sixteen hundred tons. This week it's almost as bad--thirty-eight ships of over sixteen hundred, thirteen ships under, and eight fishing-vessels. Think of it--all of 'em merchant-ships! "Pretty soon I've got to send my ship out to run the gantlet. She's like Little Red Riding Hood going through the forest to take old Granny Britain some food. And the wolves are waiting for her. What a race of people, what a pack of beasts!" Marie Louise had an idea. "I'll tell you a pretty name for your ship--_Little Red Riding Hood_. Why don't you give her that?" He laughed. "The name would be heavier than the cargo. I wonder what the crew would make of it. No, this ship, my first one, is to be named after"--he lowered his voice as one does on entering a church--"after my mother." "Oh, that's beautiful!" Marie Louise said. "And will she be there to christen-- Oh, I remember, you said--" He nodded three or four times in wretchedness. But the grief was his own, and he must not exploit it. He assumed an abrupt cheer. "I'll name the next ship after you, if you don't mind." This was too glorious to be believed. What bouquet or jewel could equal it? She clapped her hands like a child hearing a Christmas promise. "What is your first name, Miss Webling?" She suddenly realized that they were not, after all, such old friends as the night had seemed to make them. "My first two names," she said, "are Marie Louise." "Oh! Well, then we'll call the ship _Marie Louise_." She saw that he was a little disappointed in the name, so she said: "When I was a girl they called me Mamise." She was puzzled to see how this startled him. He jumped audibly and fastened a searching gaze on her. Mamise! He had thought of Mamise when he saw her, and now she gave the name. Could she possibly be the Mamise he remembered? He started to ask her, but checked himself and blushed. A fine thing it would be to ask this splendid young princess, "Pardon me, Princess, but were you playing in cheap vaudeville a few years ago?" It was an improbable coincidence that he should meet her thus, but an almost impossible coincidence that she should wear both the name and the mien of Mamise and not be Mamise. But he dared not ask her. She noted his blush and stammer, but she was afraid to ask their cause. "_Mamise_ it shall be," he said. And she answered, "I was never so honored in my life." "Of course," he warned her, "the boat isn't built yet. In fact, the new yard isn't built yet. There's many a slip 'twixt the keel and the ship. She might never live to be launched. Some of these sneaking loafers on our side may blow her up before the submarines get a chance at her."