"Maybe 'E can't help it."
"And the war started because it had to be?
"It just came—like a war-baby."
Another pause.
"Yer write songs, don't yer?" Bill suddenly asked.
"Sometimes."
"Would yer write me one, just a little one?" he continued. "There was a bird (girl) where I used to be billeted at St. Albans, and I would like to send 'er a bit of poetry."
"You've fallen in love?" I ventured.
"No, not so bad as that—"
"You've not fallen in love."