"Very," I agreed, as we turned; and I added, rather inanely: "One hears a lot about East Anglian coast erosion."
Wardle yawned and grinned.
"Yes, to be sure. Perhaps East Anglia is cruising down Channel by now. Or perhaps the Kaiser's landed an army corps and taken possession. That Mediterranean business on Tuesday was pretty pronounced cheek, you know, and, by all accounts, the result of direct orders from Potsdam. Only the Kaiser's bluff, I suppose, but I'm told it's taken most of the Channel Fleet down into Spanish waters."
I smiled at the activity of Wardle's journalistic imagination, and thought of the music-hall crowd.
"Ah, well," I said, "'They'll never go for England, because England's got the dibs'!"
"What ho!" remarked Wardle, with another yawn. And this time he was really off.
And so I walked home alone to my lodgings, and climbed into bed, thinking vaguely of Constance Grey, and what she would have thought of my night's work; this, as the long, palely glinting arms of the Sabbath dawn thrust aside the mantle of summer night from Bloomsbury.