," said Mervin, who had really been absent
for quite half an hour previously. "There are two women there, a
mother and daughter. A good-looking girl, Bill." The eyes of the
Cockney brightened.

"Twopence a cup for black coffee, and the same for bread and butter."

"No civilians are allowed here," Pryor remarked.

"It's their own home," said Mervin. "They've never left the place, and
the roof is broken and half the walls blown away."

"I'm for coffee," Stoner cried, jumping over the parapet and stopping
a shower of muck which a bursting shell flung in his face. We were
with him immediately, and presently found ourselves at the door (p. 071)
of a red brick cottage with all the windows smashed, roof riddled with
shot, and walls broken, just as Mervin had described.

A number of our men were already inside feeding. An elderly,
well-dressed woman, with close-set eyes, rather thick lips, and a
short nose, was grinding coffee near a flaming stove, on which an urn
of boiling water was bubbling merrily. A young girl, not at all
good-looking but very sweet in manner, said "Bonjour, messieurs," as
we entered, and approached each of us in turn to enquire into our
needs. Mervin knew the language, and we placed the business in his
hands, and sat down on the floor paved with red bricks; the few chairs
in the house were already occupied.

The house was more or less in a state of disorder; the few pictures on
the wall, the portrait of the woman herself, _The Holy Family
Journeying to Egypt_, a print of Millet's _Angelus_, and a rude
etching of a dog hung anyhow, the frames smashed and the glass broken.
A Dutch clock, with figures of nymphs on the face, and the timing
piece of a shell dangling from the weights, looked idly down, its
pendulum gone and the glass broken.

Bill, naughty rascal that he is, wanted a kiss with his coffee, (p. 072)
and finding that Mervin refused to explain this to the girl, he
undertook the matter himself.

"Madham mosselle," he said, lingering over every syllable, "I get no
milk with cawfee, compree?" The girl shook her head, but seemed to be
amused.

"Not compree," he continued, "and me learnin' the lingo. I don't like
French, you spell it one way and speak it the other. Nark (confound)
it, I say, Mad-ham-moss-elle, voo (what's "give," Mervin?) dunno,
that's it. Voo dunno me a kiss with the cawfee, compree, it's better'n
milk."

"Don't be a pig, Bill," Stoner cut in. "It's not fair to carry