In the streets the Germans sold iron crosses from job lots on barrows for ten francs each.
"But I will get one cheaper!" said the Bearskin, and clambered up the steps into shop after shop. He found an iron cross on a chain for seven francs. No one knew what the mark was worth, and the three men, with the German salesman, bent over the counter adding and subtracting on paper.
"How can a goblin countryside breed people who sell iron crosses at ten francs each?" wondered Fanny.
There was a notice on the other side of the street, "Y.M.C.A., two doors down the street on your left," and the thin man stood in the door of the shop beside Fanny and pointed to it.
"Couldn't you go there and get me cigars? They will be very cheap. Have you money with you?"
"I'll try," said Fanny, "I've money. We can settle afterwards," inwardly resolving to get as many cigarettes as she could to take back for the men in the garage. She crossed the street, but looked back to find the thin man creeping after her. She waited for him, irritated.
"Go back. If the American salesman sees you he'll know it's for the French, and he won't sell."
"He knew that quite well," she thought impatiently to herself, "or he wouldn't have asked me to buy for him."
The thin man turned back to the cover of the shop like an eager little dog which has jumped too quickly for biscuit and been snubbed.
She went down the street and into the Y.M.C.A.
Instantly she was among three or four hundred men, who stood with their backs to her, in queues up the long wooden hall. Far ahead on the improvised counter was a _guichet_ marked "Cigars." She placed herself at the tail of that queue.
"Move up, lady," said the man in front of her, moving her forward. "Say here's a lady. Move her up."
Men from the other queues looked round, and one or two whistled slyly beneath their breath, but her own queue adopted her protectingly, and moved her up to their head, against the counter.
It was out of the question to get cigars now. She had become a guest, and to get cigars would imply that she was not buying for herself, but to supply an unknown man without. And the marks on her uniform showed that the unknown was French.
"One carton of Camels, please," she said, used to the phraseology.
