Edith Wharton, at her flat in Paris, told a war story.

“The American wounded were being brought in from the Marne battlefield,” she said, “and a fussy American woman in a khaki uniform and Sam Browne belt bent over a stretcher and said:

“‘Is this case an officer or only a man?’

“The brawny corporal who stood beside the stretcher gave a grim laugh and said:

“‘Well, lady, he ain’t no officer, but he’s been hit twice in the innards, both legs is busted, he’s got bullets in both arms and we dropped him three times without his lettin’ out a squawk, so I guess we can call him a man.’”