No more Parades by Ford Madox Ford — Read

They had gone back up the hill so that Levin might telephone to headquarters for his own car in case the general's chauffeur should not have the sense to return for him. But that was as far as Tietjens got in uninterrupted reminiscences of that scene. He was sitting in his fleabag, digging idly with his pencil into the squared page of his notebook which had remained open on his knees, his eyes going over and over again over the words with which his report on his own case had concluded -- the words: So the interview ended rather untidily. Over the words went the image of the dark hillside with the lights of the town, now that the air-raid was finished, spreading high up into the sky below them.

But at that point the doctor's batman had uttered, as if with a jocular, hoarse irony, the name: