"What a man could. I went round to the 'ospital and they wouldn't let me up, but I 'eard as 'ow 'er ribs was stove in. Through 'er lung they stuck and that was 'ow they couldn't save 'er."
"Didn't you see 'er again at all?"
"Next afternoon I turned up to inquire, and a Burmese nurse said the gal 'ad been askin' to see me as she knowed she was dying. They took me up. There was screens all round the bed because she couldn't get better, jes' like an English 'ospital. And O Gawd, some 'o them wimmin in the ward as I passed, didn't they look 'arf ill! 'Wot's this ward?' I asked the nurse, and an English matron wot 'ad come to take my name and address said they were mostly police cases. She didn't seem to like my face none, but she showed me to me little friend. I Gawd-damned the 'ole blasted lot o' them when I see 'er, an' jes' knelt down and put me 'ands on 'er little 'ands and sez: 'See 'ere Ladybird, 'ow you goin' to wear that Boschy tooth necklace if you don't get well?' She opened 'er eyes wide as saucers for a minute, and then she sees me and smiles a baby twisted smile. She gasps a bit and I put me ear down close so's she wouldn't feel it any effort to speak a piece. 'No buljao,' she whispers, so faint I couldn't 'ardly 'ear. 'Never on your life!' sez I, and I meant it. Then I brings out the fags to show 'er where I keeps 'em in an inner pocket. She looks at 'em and, 'Soomoke,' she sez. I thought at fust she wanted me to smoke one then and there, and I'd 'ave done it if Gawd Almighty 'ad pointed out as it was against the rules. But then 'er tiny fingers nipped mine an' I kep' still. 'Don't you be afeared,' I said, 'I ain't goin' to leave you yet,' thinkin' I'd put my tongue out at the matron if she tried to shift me. With that she kinds of seems to settle. 'Soomoke 'ome,' she gasps; and I answers, 'I'll smoke the bleedin' caseful, beginning the fust day I sets foot in Blighty, and I'll blow back the smoke to the East so's all smoke you see think it's my lot comin' to tell you as I ain't nearly bulgaoed, nor goin' to'."
The Optimist stopped and coughed violently. Then he got up and fussing with the window-strap let the pane down with a bang. The rain had ceased, and breaths of English Spring blew in across the wet fields.
"These 'ere do irritate the throat after a while," said the Philosopher sympathetically.
"And wot happened next?" asked the Pessimist, who had no fine perceptions.
The man at the window turned on him with eyes still glistening from the effects of his cough.
"Wot 'appened next?" he repeated scornfully. "Oh, 'er and me did a barn dance down the ward, of course!"
The Philosopher handed him back his matches and the photograph which he was re-studying.
"It's got to come to all on us," he said thoughtfully. "And I bet, matey, it come easier to that lil girl there than if she'd 'ad to face it later without a pal at 'er side."