"Ow're yer feelin' after last night?" he asked.
"Not so bad, sergeant," Fitzgerald replied.
"Been in seein' Fifi?" asked the sergeant.
"I have," said Fitzgerald. "She's a splendid girl. I love her, and if she'll have me after the war, I'll marry her. God! there's something grand in her; too good for me. But I don't know what to make of her. She won't trust me, thinks I'm married, or something like that. And I love her, but she refuses to understand me. We are so far apart, somehow."
Snogger looked through his soapsuds at Fitzgerald, astonished at the Irishman's burst of confidence.
"There is nothing artificial about the girl," Fitzgerald continued. "She is grand, so simple and original. She says what she thinks and is far too childish to hide her thoughts. And I don't think she has much of an opinion of us."
"I don't think any of these 'ere French wenches care much for an English Tommy," said Snogger. "They'll go a little way wiv 'em and then they turn the deaf ear. I never was able to fool about wiv 'em. They're more freer than English birds at first, but it's ''ands off' if you want too much. They're all right if it's only cawfee and kisses, but ye'll never get any further."
Snoggers winked knowingly and laughed. Fitzgerald made his way into the barn.