Combeferre nodded, chewing on his lip. "I suppose that's reasonable enough. And no one has questioned my story here." Who would believe the truth, anyway? Whatever tale they concocted to explain their presence here, it would sound more likely than the reality.

He hesitated. "Sybil, some of the men who arrived today... Their burns come from gas, I understand?" Though he did not blame a single family, no matter how privileged, for this war that he only vaguely understood, what he had seen today, the pain and suffering, had brought last night's opulence into stark relief. The hospital was well-equipped, but still morphine ran low, and beds were increasingly few.

Henri took a breath. He did not want to bring his disagreement with Sybil's family into their discussion again, and if he continued with these thoughts, they would surely lead in that direction.