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Bagnold, Enid, 1889-1981

"The Happy Foreigner"

" She rose. "I
wish you luck. Good-bye."
She thanked them for their coffee, nodded to the quiet French table and
went out.
One American followed her.
"Can you buzz her round?" he asked kindly, and taking the handle, buzzed
her round.
"I bet you don't get any one to do that for you in your army, do you?"
he asked, as he straightened himself from the starting handle. She put
her gear in with a little bang of anger.
"You're kind," she said, "and they are kind. That you can't see it is
all a question of language. Every village is full of bored Americans
with nothing to do, and never one of them buys a dictionary!"
"If it's villages you speak of, ma'am, it isn't dictionaries is needed,"
he answered, "'tis plumbing!"
She had not left him ten minutes before one of her tyres punctured.
"Alas! I could have found a better use for them than arguing," she
thought ruefully, regretting the friendly Americans, as she changed the
tyre by the roadside under the beam from her own lamps.
When it was done she sat for a few minutes in the silent car. The moon
came up and showed her the battlements of the Ardennes forest standing
upon the crest of the mountains to her left. "That is to be my home--"
Julien was in Paris by now, divested of his uniform, sitting by a great
fire, eating civilised food. A strange young man in dark clothes--she
wondered what he would wear.


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