“Pairfectly,” answered Ellen; and after a pause added, shyly:  “And I’m pleased to meet you.  I hope anyone that’s dear to Richard will be friends with me.”

He flung his head backwards and cried, in that whistling voice:  “Yes, I’ll be that!  And I’m a friend worth having now I’ve got Jesus!  And He’s given me Poppy too!  Aha, old man!” With a little difficulty he put both his thumbs inside the corked edge of his armholes and began to stride up and down, taking steps unnaturally long for thin legs.  “You aren’t the only man who’s thought of getting married!  Great minds think alike, they say!” With a flourish he stretched out his hand, and it was plain that he thought he would touch the woman in uniform, though he was some feet away.  Richard’s and Ellen’s eyes met; it was repulsive to see a man dizzied by so small a draught of excitement.  “Richard, Miss Melville, this is Lieutenant Poppy, who’s going to be my wife.”

It was difficult to know what to do, for the woman in uniform, although she made a murmuring noise, preserved that unillumined aspect which conveyed, more fully than silence could have done, that her soul was glumly silent.  But they went and greeted her, and looked into the matted darkness of her eyes.

“We’re going to be married as soon as I’ve served my year of probation.  That’s a long time ahead, for I’ve only been at it a fortnight.  I expect you’ll be getting married much sooner.  Things always went easier with you than me,” he complained.  “But it’ll be a happy day when it comes, and I get the two blessings at the same time, becoming a full soldier of Jesus and marrying Poppy.  She’s nearly a full soldier already.  She joined the Army seven months ago.”

“Do you preach in the streets?” asked Richard.

Roger’s eyes filled with water.  Ellen reflected that he must be curiously sensitive for one so dull-witted, for the rage and disgust behind the question had hardly shown their heads.  “Yes, I do!” he said pettishly.  “And if Jesus doesn’t object, I don’t see why you should.”

“I don’t object at all,” Richard assured him amiably.  “I only wondered what sort of work you did.  I suppose you haven’t come to work at the Hallelujah Colony here, have you?”

“That’s just what I’ve done!” answered Roger joyfully.  “I joined up at Margate and I’ve laboured there for three weeks.  I didn’t do so bad.  Did I, Poppy?  Not for a start?  No one could exactly shine at street preaching at first, you know.  They will laugh so.  But I didn’t do worse than other people when they begin, did I, Poppy?  However, they’ve transferred me over here to the Colony, to do clerk work.”  He added with a touch of defiance:  “And, of course, they’ll want me to take services too, sometimes.  In fact I’m going to take a service this evening.”

“How long are you to be here?”

“Maybe always.  They may feel I do the best work for Jesus here.”  He drew a deep, shuddering breath, and took his cap off and threw it on the table with a convulsive gesture.  “If mother doesn’t turn me away because I’ve given myself to Jesus,” he said with that whistling note, “I’ll be able to see her every day.”