"What are you going to tell me?" she asked.
"Nothing," Fitzgerald stammered. "I mean.... Au revoir, Fifi."
He turned round and walked away. When he got to the corner, he heard her calling.
"English soldier, come back," she said in a loud whisper.
Fitzgerald was back with her in an instant.
"What is it, Fifi?" he asked.
"Souvenir pour moi," she said, in a coaxing voice. "Jam, hat badges, many souvenirs. Boots for my father in the trenches. Other soldiers give me souvenirs often—but you—never. The sergeant gave me a big knife. Also chocolate. His mother sent it to him from England. But you, you never give me anything. Will you give me some souvenirs to-morrow?"
"All right, I will, Fifi," said Fitzgerald. "Many souvenirs."
"And I'll give you beer, café-au-lait, several things," said the girl, pulling the window a little way towards her. "Au revoir, English soldier."
She held out her hand, the left, the nearer to her heart, and Fitzgerald took hold of it. Fifi looked at him smiling.