"Reg, I want you to promise me one thing," said Billy, after we had been talking for an hour or more.
"What is it, Billy? You know I'll do it, old scout, if I can."
"Yes, I know you will. Well, it is this: I've told you how I came to correspond with Aileen, and, altho' I've never seen her yet, I really think she is one real girl. But here's the rub," he continued; "I don't really love the girl; I'm not such an idiot as to fall in love with a girl I have never seen; and you know lots of these photos are fifty per cent camouflage, ain't they?"
"You're dead right, old chap," I replied.
"Well, now, this one may be in the other fifty, and I'm thinking she is; and if you should get home before I do, will you look her up and let me know just exactly what you think of her?"
"Why, of course I will."
"That's what I wanted, Reg. You see, God only knows when I may get home, if I ever do, but I don't want to be nursing ideas about Aileen, and perhaps causing thoughts to arise in her mind, that may never be realized. You get me, Reg, don't you?"
"Surest thing, Billy, and you're damned right and sensible to look at it that way."
So that when we finally tumbled in, it was long after the witching hour of night.
The dugout we occupied we had built ourselves, and we took great pains to make it as roomy and comfortable as possible; hence the tendency of the fellows to make it their rendezvous. Our bunks consisted of sandbags spread out on the floor, and the ceremony of retiring occupied about one minute or less.