When he followed Chrisfield into the room, Andrews saw a man sitting on the window ledge smoking. He was dressed as a second lieutenant, his puttees were brilliantly polished, and he smoked through a long, amber cigarette-holder. His pink nails were carefully manicured. “This is Slippery, Andy,” said Chrisfield. “This guy's an ole buddy o' mine. We was bunkies together a hell of a time, wasn't we, Andy?” “You bet we were.” “So you've taken your uniform off, have you? Mighty foolish,” said Slippery. “Suppose they nab you?” “It's all up now anyway. I don't intend to get nabbed,” said Andrews. “We got booze,” said Chrisfield. Slippery had taken dice from his pocket and was throwing them meditatively on the floor between his feet, snapping his fingers with each throw. “I'll shoot you one of them bottles, Chris,” he said. Andrews walked over to the bed. Al was stirring uneasily, his face flushed and his mouth twitching. “Hello,” he said. “What's the news?” “They say they're putting up barricades near the Gare de l'Est. It may be something.” “God, I hope so. God, I wish they'd do everything here like they did in Russia; then we'd be free. We couldn't go back to the States for a while, but there wouldn't be no M.P.'s to hunt us like we were criminals.... I'm going to sit up a while and talk.” Al giggled hysterically for a moment. “Have a swig of wine?” asked Andrews. “Sure, it may set me up a bit; thanks.” He drank greedily from the bottle, spilling a little over his chin. “Say, is your face badly cut up, Al?” “No, it's just scotched, skin's off; looks like beefsteak, I reckon.... Ever been to Strasburg?” “No.” “Man, that's the town. And the girls in that costume.... Whee!” “Say, you're from San Francisco, aren't you?” “Sure.” “Well, I wonder if you knew a fellow I knew at training camp, a kid named Fuselli from 'Frisco?” “Knew him! Jesus, man, he's the best friend I've got.... Ye don't know where he is now, do you?” “I saw him here in Paris two months ago.” “Well, I'll be damned.... God, that's great!” Al's voice was staccato from excitement. “So you knew Dan at training camp? The last letter from him was 'bout a year ago. Dan'd just got to be corporal. He's a damn clever kid, Dan is, an' ambitious too, one of the guys always makes good.... Gawd, I'd hate to see him this way. D'you know, we used to see a hell of a lot of each other in 'Frisco, an' he always used to tell me how he'd make good before I did. He was goddam right, too. Said I was too soft about girls.... Did ye know him real well?” “Yes. I even remember that he used to tell me about a fellow he knew who was called Al.... He used to tell me about how you two used to go down to the harbor and watch the big liners come in at night, all aflare with lights through the Golden Gate. And he used to tell you he'd go over to Europe in one, when he'd made his pile.”