"Who wanted to get you ?" "Our friends, the enemy," he answered.

"I was in one of our trenches rather well toward the front, and a shell or two struck just behind me.
I think, from their sound, they were French shells." This debonair gentleman, as presently transpired, was Colonel von Scheller, for four years consul to the German Embassy at Washington, more lately minister for foreign affairs of the kingdom of Saxony, and now doing staff duty in the ordnance department here at the German center.

He had the sharp brown eyes of a courageous fox terrier, a mustache that turned up at the ends, and a most beautiful command of the English language and its American idioms.

He hurried along with his dinner and soon he had caught up with us.
"I suggest," he said, "that we go out on the terrace to drink our coffee.

It is about time for the French to start their evening benediction, as we call it.