The faces of the three warriors were glowing with animation; they were talking volubly, interrupting each other constantly. There was no doubting their sympathy for France, they were not the least bit complacent about their own country; and yet, listening to them, I felt uncomfortable. It was their war they were talking about, a war in which we had been only the somewhat pitiful excuse. Their scruples concerning us were like those a man could feel towards a weak woman or a passive animal. And already they were making wax legends out of our history.

When finally they stopped talking, Evelyn asked me languidly, 'And how is Paris now?'

'Invaded by Americans,' I replied.

'That doesn't seem to please you,' Lewis said. 'What a thankless people! We gorge them with powdered milk, we're going to flood them with Coca-Cola and tanks - and they don't fall on their knees before us!' He began to laugh. 'Greece, China, France; we aid, we aid, it's crazy. We're a nation of Boy Scouts!' 'You think that's funny, do you?' Dorothy said aggressively. 'It's great to have a sense of humour!' She shrugged her shoulders. 'After we've dropped atom bombs on the whole world, Lewis will amuse us again with a few good morbid jokes.'