the new freedom of her sex, to lose her harem veil, to breathe
free air as an achieving human creature--but, alas! one's forties
are too wise. Pretty as she was, innocent as she was, and eager
as her soul was in high emprise of the conflict of world ideals
into which she was plunging, we felt that, after all, hidden away
deeply in the secret places of her heart, were a man and a home
and children.

We whizzed through the dusk in the suburbs of Paris that night,
seeing the gathering implements of war coming into the landscape
for the first time--the army trucks, the horizon blue of the French
uniform, the great training camps, the Red Cross store houses,
the scores and scores of hospitals that might be seen in the public
buildings with Red Cross flags on them, the munition plants pouring
out their streams of women workers in their jumpers and overalls.

The girl porters came through and turned on the lights in the
train. No lights outside told us that we were hurrying through a
great city. Paris was dark. We went through the underground where
there was more light than there was above ground. The streets seemed
like tunnels and the tunnels like streets. We came into the dingy
station and a score of women porters and red capped girls came for
our baggage. They ran the trucks, they moved the express; they
took care of the mail, and through them we edged up the stairway
into the half-lighted station and looked out into the night--black,
lampless, engulfing--and it was Paris!

It was nine o'clock as we stood on the threshold of the station
peering into the murk. Not a taxi was in the stand waiting; but
from afar we could hear a great honking of auto-horns, that sounded