Moving quietly, Fitzgerald made his way back to the window again. The girl could see him now and apparently recognised him.
"English soldier, you should be asleep," she said, in a voice charged with laughter. "Go away. What do you want?"
"I want nothing," said Fitzgerald in a hoarse whisper.
In the shadows he could see the outline of her face, which looked strangely white. "I was up at the Café," he said. "Coming back I saw the light, so I tapped.... Is it not time for you to be in bed?"
"Listen to him!" said the girl, speaking in a whisper, and bringing her face close to the man's. "Time to be in bed, indeed! What does it matter to you when I go to bed? And I have work to do. You English soldiers never work.... Go away!"
"You are always working, Fifi," said Fitzgerald, without moving from where he stood.
"Always working," repeated the girl. "We are not like English girls; they never work. They have too much money. But I must go to bed," she said, making as though to shut the window. "Au revoir, English soldier."
"Not yet, not yet!" said Fitzgerald, speaking hurriedly. "I want to speak to you."
"What are you going to say?" asked the girl in a hesitating voice.
Fitzgerald was silent. He had so much to say, but in reality he said nothing at all. He merely coughed, unbuttoned the pockets of his tunic and buttoned them up again. He looked at the girl, and her eyes dropped.