The garage man says, in English, that he can make the necessary ā€œreparationsā€ in three weeks. So far as I’m concerned, he can devote three years to the job. Hereafter I’ll do my cross-country flitting about on a train.

It’s on one now, Paris bound, that I’m writing. There is nothing to do but write, for Howard is getting the sleep he missed last night and Joe is too angry to talk. He has spoken one sentence since we got up this morning.

ā€œThis is a queer war,ā€ he said.

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