“I can't help it. It's done now.”
“Gawd, you still think I'm an M.P., don't yer?... I swear I ain't. Maybe you are. Gawd, it's hell, this life. A feller can't put his trust in nobody.”
“What division are you from?”
“Hell, I came to warn you this bastard frawg's got soused an' has been blabbin' in the gin mill there how he was an anarchist an' all that, an' how he had an American deserter who was an anarchist an' all that, an' I said to myself: 'That guy'll git nabbed if he ain't careful,' so I cottoned up to the old frawg an' said I'd go with him to see the camarade, an' I think we'd better both of us make tracks out o' this burg.”
“It's damn decent. I'm sorry I was so suspicious. I was scared green when I first saw you.”
“You were goddam right to be. But why did yous take yer uniform off?”
“Come along, let's beat it. I'll tell you about that.”
Andrews shook hands with the old man and the old woman. Rosaline had disappeared.
“Goodnight...Thank you,” he said, and followed the other man across the gangplank.
As they walked away along the road they heard the old man's voice roaring: