ar was
on, 'cept they all touch it a bit! _The Better 'Ole_ I like, but you
mightn't, knowing the real thing. But don't miss _Carminetta_ if you have
to stand all day for a seat in the gods. Well, I must be going. Damned
rough luck, but no help for it. Let's have a last spot, eh?"

Peter agreed, and the drinks were ordered. "Chin-chin," said his
acquaintance. "And here's to old London town, and the Good Lord let me
see it again. It's less than even chances," he added reflectively.

"Here's luck," said Peter; then, for he couldn't help it: "It's you
chaps, by God, that are winning this war!"

"Oh, I don't know," said the other, rising. "We get more leave than you
fellows, and I'd sooner be on my tramp than in the trenches. The sea's
good and clean to die in, anyway. Cheerio."

Peter followed him out in a few minutes, and set about his shopping. He
found a florist's in Regent Street and bought lavishly. The girl smiled
at him, and suggested this and that. "Having a dinner somewhere
to-night?" she queried. "But I have no violets."

"Got my girl comin' up," said Peter expansively; "that's why there must
be violets. See if you can get me some and send them over, will you?" he
asked, naming his hotel. She promised to do her best, and he departed.

He went into a chocolate shop. "Got some really decent chocolates?" he
demanded.

The girl smiled and dived under the counter. "These are the best," she
said, holding out a shovelful for Peter to taste. He tried one. "They'll
do," he said. "Give me a couple of pounds, in a pretty box if you've got
one."

"Two pounds!" she exclaimed. "What are you thinking of? We can only sell
a quarter."

"Only a quarter!" said Peter. "That's no good. Come on, make up the two
pounds."

"If my boss comes in or finds out I'll be fired," said the girl; "can't
be done."

"Well, that doesn't matter," said Peter innocently, "You'll easily get a
job--something better and easier, I expect."

"It's easy enough, perhaps," said the girl, "but you never can tell.
_And_ it's dangerous, _and_ uncertain."

Peter stared at her. When he bought chocolates as a parson, he never had
talks like this. He wondered if London had changed since he knew it. Then
he played up: "You're pretty enough to knock that last out, anyway?" he
said.

"Am I?" she demanded. "Do you mean you'd like to keep me?"

"I've got one week-end left of leave," said Peter. "What about the
chocolates?"

"Poor boy!" she said. "Wel