“Yes,” she replied.

“But I suppose at a hospital like this you’re always hearing decent music?” he ventured.

“Not so often,” she said.

“This band is just back from touring the front, isn’t it?  My friend said something to that effect.”

“I believe so,” she said.

Peter could have cursed her.  It was impossible to get anything out of her, though why he had not a notion.  The answer was really simple, for she wanted to be next Donovan, and wasn’t, and she was all the while scheming how to get there.  But Peter did not tumble to that; he felt an ass and very uncomfortable, and he broke into open revolt.

He looked steadily towards the chairs.  The back of the girl who had looked at him was towards him now, for she was talking sideways to somebody; but he noted an empty chair just next her, and that her uniform was not that of the nurses of this hospital.  He felt confident that she would look again, and he was not disappointed.  Instantly he made up his mind, nodded, and reached for his cap.  “I see a girl I know over there,” he said to his neighbour.  “Excuse me, will you?” Then he got up and walked boldly over to the vacant chair.  He was fast acclimatising to war conditions.

He sat down on that empty chair and met the girl’s eyes fairly.  She was entirely at her ease and laughing merrily.  “I’ve lost my bet,” she said, “and Tommy’s won.”

“And you’ve made me tell a thundering lie,” he replied, laughing too, “which you know is the first step towards losing one’s soul.  Therefore you deserve your share in the loss.”

“Why?  What did you say?” she demanded.

“I said I saw a girl I knew,” he replied.  “But I haven’t any idea who you are, though I can’t help feeling I’ve seen you before.”

She chuckled with amusement, and turned to her companion.  “He doesn’t remember, Tommy,” she said.

The second girl looked past her to Peter.  “I should think not,” she said.  “Nobody would.  But he’ll probably say in two minutes that he does.  You’re perfectly shameless, Julie.”

Julie swung round to Peter.  “You’re a beast, Tommy,” she said over her shoulder, “and I shan’t speak to you again.  You see,” she went on to Peter, “I could see you had struck a footling girl, and as I don’t know a single decent boy here, I thought I’d presume on an acquaintance, and see if it wasn’t a lucky one.  We’ve got to know each other, you know.  The girl with me on the boat—­oh, damn, I’ve told you!—­and I am swearing, and you’re a parson, but it can’t be helped now—­well, the girl told me we should meet again, and that it was probably you who was mixed up with my fate-line.  What do you think of that?”