A Woman of No Importance

Sonia Purnellcaslon

France was falling. Burned-out cars, once strapped highwith treasured possessions, were nosed crazily into

ditches. eir beloved cargoes of dolls, clocks, and mirrorslay smashed around them and along mile upon mile ofunfriendly road. eir owners, young and old, sprawled across the hot dust, were groaning or already silent. Yet the hordes just kept streaming past them, a never-ending line of hunger and exhaustion too fearful to stop for days on end.