ABSTRACT
WE are sipping our coffee after the leisurely lunch; while Madame Sestrol, her hands folded upon the shelf of her stomach, is taking the air with satisfaction after the completed task. She is telling us how the Government inspectors came searching for concealed grain during the War, and how one of the inspectors, electing to sleep with Raymond, put all his clothes on to a chest which was packed full of contraband wheat. Suddenly she interrupts her story, and speaks with a faint accent of irritation:
“Oh! Here is your friend, Monsieur Lemoule.”
