The temptation to smoke is so compelling that the punishment
does not deter most men and they take the chance. By taking the collar
of their coat and tucking it around their faces, lighting the match
under their coat next to their ribs, burying their faces in their coat,
they get a light without much danger of detection. In puffing it a man
will hold the fag in his closed fist to his mouth, take the inhale, and,
if there should happen to be a provo or other suspicious guardian of the
rules in sight, down into his stomach would go the smoke. I don't know
why it is but it has always seemed to me that the more stringent the
rules are against the forbidden luxury, the more chances men will take
to get their smoke.
We made the run to Ypres Square in an hour and a half. As soon as we
entered I noticed a woman clinging tightly to a little girl and hugging
the wall of the Nunshouse, a building standing immediately opposite the
town hall in the square. The square itself was a large open place in the
city about 350 feet long by 150 wide.
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