“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?”