The Red Glutton As we went along next day through the town of Maubeuge we heard singing; and singing was a most rare thing to be hearing in this town.

In a country where no one smiles any more who belongs in that country, singing is not a thing which you would naturally expect to hear.

So we turned off of our appointed route.
There was a small wine shop at the prow of a triangle of narrow streets.
It had been a wine shop.

It was now a beer shop.

There had been a French proprietor; he had a German partner now.