I shall not describe her.

She was of my own kind and friendship of the old time on the water-front.

When Nelson was shot, he had died in her arms, and she knew me as his one comrade.

And she must tell me how Nelson had died, and I did want to know; so I went with her across the width of life from dawning boy's love for a brown-haired girl in a tam-o'-shanter back to the old sad savagery I had known.
And when I had heard the tale, I hurried away to find Louis, fearing that I had lost my first love with the first glimpse of her.

But Louis was dependable.