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Tinker had a gravity well beyond his years — I believe he was only twenty-two—and a great big, black, bushy beard gave him an elderly appearance. I treated him as a man of my own age, and such was the assurance of his manner that I tended to take his advice in many matters. Several months later I called on the LRDG in Egypt, where they had gone to refit, and saw most of my friends. Left alone in the mess I went over in my mind the names of those I had wanted to see and found that Tinker had not put in an appearance. An unknown, slim, clean-shaven youth came in, whom I had noticed previously keeping shyly in the background as if he was a new recruit. I asked him: ‘Do you know if Lieutenant Tinker is in camp? I particularly want to see him.’ Surprised, he laughed.
'I am Tinker. I wondered why you wouldn’t speak to me, Popski.’