them for wounded. This ambulance had got one and was taking him
to Paris, off the regular route of the wounded who were being sent
south. The boot-soles of a prostrate figure showed out of the dark
recess of the interior. This French officer, a major, had been hit in the
shoulder. He tried to control the catch in his voice which belied his
assertion that he was suffering little pain. The drizzling rain was chilly.
It was a long way to Paris yet.

"We will make inquiries," said our kindly general.

A man who came out of the gloom said that there was a hospital kept
by some Sisters of Charity in Senlis which had escaped destruction.
The question was put into the recesses of the ambulance:

"Would you prefer to spend the night here and go on in the morning?"

"Yes, monsieur, I--should--like--that--better!" The tone left no doubt of
the relief that the journey in a car with poor springs was not to be
continued after hours of waiting, marooned in the street of a ruined
town.

Whilst the ambulance passed inside the hospital gate, I spoke with an
elderly woman who came to a near-by door. Cool and definite she
was as a French soldier, bringing home the character of the women
of France which this war has made so well known to the world.

"Were you here during the fighting?"

"Yes, monsieur, and during the shelling and the burning. The shelling
was not enough. The Germans said that someone fired on their