Paul. Monsieur?
Fred. Look at the statue. Look at its head. Who put that wreath on it? Did you climb up there?
Paul. No.
Fred. No. You know you didn't. We saw her put it on herself.
Paul. But, monsieur, then you have dreamed the same dream as I.
Fred. I saw you all right, and you saw me?
Paul. I saw you.
Fred. And we both saw 'er. It's a rum go, cockey, but I told you I'd given up being surprised. Our lot and yours we're going whacks in licking the Germans, ain't we? Yus, and now we're going whacks in the same dream, so that's that and chance it. Ententing again, only extra cordial. [Scratches head.] I don't quite see where she comes in, though, if she ain't the statue.
Blanche. I am a flower-girl, monsieur.
Fred. Not so many flowers about you, then.