Madame Lelanne had dressed it up in a child's cloak and hood, and had carried it in her arms.

As it must have weighed nearly a couple of hundred-weight suspicion had not attached to them.
Space did not allow of any separation; broken Frenchmen and broken Germans would often lie side by side.

Joan would wonder, with a grim smile to herself, what the patriotic Press of the different countries would have thought had they been there to have overheard the conversations.

Neither France nor Germany appeared to be the enemy, but a thing called "They," a mysterious power that worked its will upon them both from a place they always spoke of as "Back there." One day the talk fell on courage.

A young French soldier was holding forth when Joan entered the hut.
"It makes me laugh," he was saying, "all this newspaper talk.