As long as daylight lasted a ceaseless banging was kept up.
We were sitting on the forward deck, looking out at the beautiful scenes through which we were passing, and occasionally turning back to see that none of the gunners posted themselves where they might make our positions uncomfortable, when Corny came back to us.
"Can either of you speak French ?" she asked.
Rectus couldn't; but I told her that I understood the language tolerably well, and asked her why she wished to know.
"It's just this," she said.

"You see those two men with yellow boots, and the lady with them?
She's one of their wives." "How many wives have they got ?" interrupted Rectus, speaking to Corny almost for the first time.
"I mean she is the wife of one of them, of course," she answered, a little sharply; and then she turned herself somewhat more toward me.
"And the whole set try to make out they're French, for they talk it nearly all the time.

But they're not French, for I heard them talk a good deal better English than they can talk French; and every time a branch nearly hits her, that lady sings out in regular English.

And, besides, I know that their French isn't French French, because I can understand a great deal of it, and if it was I couldn't do it.

I can talk French a good deal better than I can understand it, anyway.