“They all come here,” said Stanley to himself, “all of them—if you just wait long enough.... When did you land?”
“Day before yesterday.”
“And got to Paris so soon? How did you work that?”
“Ordered.... What are you doing here?”
“Making marks on pieces of paper. That’s what I got for knowing anything about architectural engineering. I’m in the Signal Corps and I’m drawing plans for aeroplane-sheds.... What are you?” He looked down at Kendall’s collar markings.
“Intelligence! I’m one of the fellows who find out everything about everything in the world and tell it to the army for its good.”
“Stationed here?”
“Don’t know. Report this morning.”
“Fix it, son, fix it.... It’s a great guerre, and this battle of Paris—”
“Beurre, monsieur?” asked the waitress.