Hillyard looked around it with a grudging eye.
"I am near the middle of the coach here, I think," he said.
"Yes, monsieur, quite in the middle." "That is well," answered Hillyard.

"I am an invalid, and cannot sleep when there is much motion." He spoke irritably, with that tone of grievance peculiar to the man who thinks his health is much worse than it is.
"Can I get coffee in the morning ?" he asked.
"At half-past six, monsieur.

But you must get out of the train for it." Hillyard uttered an exclamation of disgust, and shrugged his shoulders.
"What a country!" the gesture said as plainly as speech.
"But it is the war, monsieur!" the attendant expostulated with indignation.
"Oh, yes, I know! The war!" Hillyard retorted with ill-humour.

"Do I want a bath?
I cannot have it.

It is the war.