"She said, as naturally as if we always fed together, 'Shall I go up to my rooms and get into respectable clothes, or d'you mind if I came in my uniform?' "I said, 'Oh, come along!' And we went off to a quiet little place at the back of the Palace. "By that time, d'you know, I felt as if I'd known that little girl for years and years and years. "She seemed just like the best little pal a man could have. We talked--oh, about any old thing. I sort of felt at home with her. So she did with me. She told me so. But it was me that did most of the talking. Only, what d'you think? We never bothered to ask each other's names. That was the funny part. I'd told her all about me being in a shop before the War----Lace, forward----and how I thought of having a shot at in Canada, p'raps, and all that sort of rot. Miles I'd yapped to her; even about my mother dying when I was a nipper.... "I wonder the girl wasn't bored stiff. I can't make out now why she wasn't. However, as I say, they might never have named this child N or M for all she was given to hear about _that_. "Fact was, I clean forgot about names until I took her home----she's got two rooms in one of those big old-fashioned houses in a street off Baker Street. Then, as I said good night to her on the doorstep, I said, 'Oh, by the way, who do I ask for tomorrow?' "She said, 'Coming tomorrow?' "I said, 'Well, you told me it was your three days' leave, and I thought p'raps you'd come for a walk'----thinking to myself that I might be able to raise another quid or so for meals from some man at the Regent Palace, which I was. "'Oh,' she said, with a little sort of laugh. 'Rightoh. And I haven't told you, of course, my name's Robinson,' she said as she went into the house; big dark hall, it seemed to swallow her up. "I said, 'Brown's mine,' and off I went----and I couldn't simply get the little thing out of my head all night, and what a jolly little chum she was. Don't laugh at me, Miss Olwen; no, I know you're not really laughing, but I am, I can tell you. 'They laugh last who laugh laughs,' as that chap says at the Hippodrome. "Next morning I was round at that house so early that I hadn't the nerve to ring the bell. I had to patrol the street for another half an hour before I rang. "'Miss Robinson?' says I to the old girl who opened the door, but before she could answer I could hear the little girl herself singing out over the banisters, 'Hullo, I think I know that voice! Come up, Mr. Brown----' "I legged it up to the first floor. Her sitting-room door was open; well, in I went, and there I got a nasty one."