Where once were the supper-girls and the ladies of the gold-mesh vanity-bags now were only men in red and blue uniforms, men in khaki, men in bandages.

Among them were English lords and French princes with titles that dated from Agincourt to Waterloo, where their ancestors had met as enemies.
Now those who had succeeded them, as allies, were, over a sole Marguery, discussing air-ships, armored automobiles, and mitrailleuses.
At one table Arthur H.Frazier, of the American embassy, would be telling an English officer that a captain of his regiment who was supposed to have been killed at Courtrai had, like a homing pigeon, found his way to the hospital at Neuilly and wanted to be reported "safe" at Lloyds.

At another table a French lieutenant would describe a raid made by the son of an American banker in Paris who is in command of an armed automobile.

"He swept his gun only once--so," the Frenchman explained, waving his arm across the champagne and the broiled lobster, "and he caught a general and two staff- officers.

He cut them in half." Or at another table you would listen to a group of English officers talking in wonder of the Germans' wasteful advance in solid formation.
"They were piled so high," one of them relates, "that I stopped firing.
They looked like gray worms squirming about in a bait-box.