You see, something curious has happened. When I started writing this I was still in the power of Mitzi's charm. Slowly I have been made to feel that I am setting myself free from it. I write the whole adventure off my heart, with all its joys and all its sorrows. Yet I cannot make up my mind to give away her features. But, if really these pages one day do appear in print, and if you find Mitzi's photo reproduced as the frontispiece—then, affectionate reader, you will know that writing my story has cured me altogether, completely.
In the meantime the Sergeant wants to see the photo. So I visit my kit bag. Therein is a parcel. All it contains is three photos and ... I may as well tell you, as you know all about it ... the stalks of those roses Bean gave me so long ago. The three photos are Pa, Ma, and Mitzi. (I hope you did not expect them to be Messrs. Hammer, Doblana and Giulay.)
The three photos are well wrapped first in some tissue paper, then in a considerable amount of strong brown paper, and finally in a sheet of oil cloth. Thus they have been able to stand the fatigues of war.
I show the Sergeant first the face of Daniel Cooper, and then that of the mater. He remains rather indifferent, but says politely:
"They seem to be nice people."
The stalks of Bean's roses, I show him not.
But I uncover Mitzi' s likeness.
Charlie looks at it and frowns. After a while he gives it back to me.
"Well?" I ask.
He does not reply. But suddenly he gets up.