"Sure! And my temples, Williams! Besides, I have two grown-up daughters aboard! How are you, anyway, you Latin Quarter come-back?"
We settled ourselves, hands still warmly clasped.
"You're not going back to Paris?" I asked.
"Why, man, I live there."
"By George, so you do! I forgot."
There was a silence—that smiling, retrospective silence which ends inevitably in a sigh not entirely painful.
"Are any of the old men left there?" I asked.
"Some."
"I—I suppose the city has changed a lot. Men who've been over since, say so."
"It hasn't changed, radically."