They all looked at Brent as though he were some sort of savage. He heard one of the women remark that it was probable that the beds would be dirty, and that the agent at Amiens had told them a lot of lies.
Brent was annoyed. He spoke to the man in English.
“We can give you a simple meal and two bedrooms. As you see, we are very busy here.”
The small boy and the flapper giggled.
“We’ll have to sleep in the car, pa.”
“But it’s absurd,” said the fattest of the three women, “We were told at Amiens that we could put up here. Of course, if these French people don’t want us or our money——”
They held a family council on Manon’s doorstep, and the fact emerged that two of the women had made up their minds that they wanted to spend the night in a devastated village. It would make ornamental conversation at home. The man was neutral; he had never been in France before, and though of military age, had functioned very successfully on the home front. The chauffeur, an ex-soldier, listened with an air of interested cynicism to the argument.
“All right,” said the Midlander; “you give us three rooms and we can manage.”
Paul translated the proposal to Manon.
“But you would have to turn out.”