Paul. It is Jeanne d'Arc. You call her—what do you call her?—Joan of—
Fred. Not guilty. I ain't so forward with the ladies. I don't call them in their Christian names till I've been introduced.
Paul. You English call her Joan of Arc. The great Jeanne d'Arc. She—
Fred. Wait a bit. Now don't excite me for a moment. I'm thinking. I've heard that name before.
Paul. But yes, monsieur. In history.
Fred. That's done it. I take you, cockey. I knew it was a way back. Well, she's nothing in my life. [Returns to steps and sits.]
Paul. She is of my life. I come from Domremy.
Fred. So you said.
Paul. It was her birthplace.
Fred [clapping him on the shoulder]. Cockey, I'm with you now. I know the feeling. Why, we'd a man born in our street that played center-forward for the Arsenal. Makes you proud of the place where you were born. Na pooed now, poor devil. Got his head blown off last month. He was a sergeant in our lot. 'Ave a woodbine?