To try my knowledge of française , I had purchased at the station a copy of Le Cri de Paris . I found that I could read it very easily by consulting the dictionary every time I came to a word.

But the scenery and the people were more interesting than Le Cri , the former especially. Perfect automobile roads, lined with trees; fields, and truck gardens in which aged men and women, young girls and little boys were at work; green hills and valleys; winding rivers and brooks, and an occasional château or a town of fascinating architecture⁠—these helped to make us forget the heat and dust of the trip and the earsplitting shrieks of our engines. No wonder the boche coveted his neighbor’s house.

We stopped for some time at one particularly beautiful town and went out for air. I wondered audibly concerning the name of the place. An American companion looked at the signs round the station.