Explore "The Marne" by Edith Wharton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The next morning at daylight they started for the front.
Troy's breast swelled with the sense of the approach to something bigger than he had yet known. The air of Paris, that day, was heavy with doom. There was no mistaking its taste on the lips. It was the air of the Marne that he was breathing.