A feeling came upon her that she ought to say something. "Don't let us have no regrets, Bill." Those were the words she wanted to utter. "I'll not have none." But they were not for her to speak. At that moment she was not able to say anything. She waited tensely for him to go on talking. In the odd way he had, which was a part of his peculiar faculty, he seemed to feel what was passing in her mind. "I'm not thinking of what might have been. That's no good. The time's gone by. I'm thinking of my friend, Stanning, R.A. You see we'd arranged that if we ever had the chance we'd come here for a day's fishing. We had a bit one day when we were up in the Line--in that canal--the Yser, I think they call it. And he said, 'Auntie, I may be able to tell you a thing or two about drawing, but when it comes to this game the boot's on the other leg.' 'Yes,' I said, 'that's because I've put my heart into it while you've put your heart into something better.' 'Well, I don't know about that,' he said--he was the broadest-minded, the best read, the wisest chap I ever talked to--'nothing is but thinking makes it so, as Hamlet, that old crackpot used to say. Whatever you happen to be doing, Auntie, the only thing that matters is whether your heart is in it.' 'Yes,' I said, 'I daresay you are right there. But it's one thing to catch barbel. It's another to paint Corfield Weir.'" To Melia this seemed like philosophy. And she had no head for philosophy, although inclined to be a little proud that Bill should be able to swim in these deep waters in such distinguished company. But one thing aroused her curiosity. Why was this man of hers called Auntie? Bill laughed good humoredly when, a little scandalized, she came to put the question. "They all call me that in C company." His frankness was remarkable. "But why?" "They say I was born an old woman." Melia thought it was like their impertinence and did not hesitate to say so. "Ah, you don't know the Chaps," Bill laughed heartily. "The Chaps is a rum crowd. They call you anything." "But to your face?" Melia couldn't help resenting it and spoke with dignity. "You oughtn't to let them, Bill." "Why not?" "You're a Corporal." "Well, Stanning was a sergeant, you see. And nobody means nothing by it. It's a way they have in the army of being friendly and pleasant. And I daresay it suits me. My fingers is all thumbs as you might say. Fishing and a bit o' gardening are the only things I'm good for, although Stanning told me that in time, if I stuck it, I might be able to draw. And that was a lot for him to say." Melia thought that it must be.