Not until months later did we tell Aggie the story of that night.
That morning Tish disappeared, and at noon she came back to say that she had at last secured the ambulance, and that we would start for the Front at once. Privately she told me that in a pocket of the car she had found permits to get us out of Paris, but that the car would be missed before long, and that we would better start at once.
It is strange to look back and recall with what blitheness we prepared to leave. And it is interesting, too, to remember the conversation with Mr. Burton when he called that afternoon.
"Hello!" he said, glancing about. "This looks like moving on. Where to, oh, brave and radiant spirits?"
"We haven't quite decided," Tish said. She was cleaning her revolver at the time.
"You haven't decided! Great Scott, haven't you any orders? Or any permits?"
"All that are necessary," Tish said, squinting into the barrel of her revolver. "Aggie, don't forget your hay-fever spray."
"But look here," he began, "you know this is France in wartime. I hate to throw a wrench into the machinery, but no one can travel a mile
