I handed him passport, American pass, and salmon-pink card. He glanced them over, then began rummaging in a drawer. I knew what was coming—another dossier.
“Avez-vous une photophie?” he asked.
“Ah, oui,” says I, and slipped him one of the remaining five.
He kept the dossier and photophie for the amusement of himself and progeny. He gave me only a mauve card which said I was entitled to one wheel puller and one left-handed offset monkey wrench.
I told my driver we had to hurry right back to Le Vallois-Perret. He looked crestfallen.
“Je have had no déjeûner,” he said.
“Neither have je,” I said, and climbed in.
Thursday, September 13. Paris.
Up early and to the garage. Delivered the tools. “Vous had better buy a tire pump,” said my adviser.
“Je suppose,” said I, “that I’ll have to get an order for one from Papa Joffre.”