The war had stopped. The King of England was in Paris, and the
President of the United States was hourly expected. Humbler guests
poured each night from the termini into the overflowing city, and
sought anxiously for some bed, lounge-chair, or pillowed corner, in
which to rest until the morning. Stretched upon the table in a
branch of the Y.W.C.A. lay a young woman from England whose clothes
were of brand-new khaki, and whose name was Fanny. She had arrived
that night at the Gare du Nord at eight o'clock, and the following
night at eight o'clock she left Paris by the Gare de l'Est.
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