"What are they doing at Bar-le-Duc? Get them here."

"Is there work, sir?"

"Work! They shall work from dawn to sunset so long as they will dance
all night! Englishwomen do dance, don't they?"

"I have never been to England."

"Get them here. Send for them."

So through his whim it happened that six days later a little caravan of
women crossed the old front lines beyond Pont-a-Mousson as dusk was
falling, and as dark was falling entered the gates of Metz.

They leant from the ambulance excitedly as the lights of the streets
flashed past them, saw windows piled with pale bricks of butter, bars of
chocolates, tins of preserved strawberries, and jams.

"Can you see the price on the butter?"

"Twenty-four...."

"What?"

"I can't see. Yes.... Twenty-four francs a pound."

"Good heavens!"