A change came over the play at once. In his first over he hit two fours. There was a stir round the ground. His personality was as strong as ever.
A boy ran on the field with a telegram for him.
"I bet that means he has got to join his regiment," said Gordon, "and it also means we are going to fight."
Lovelace shoved the telegram into his pocket, and went on batting just as if nothing had happened, just as if he did not realise that this was his last innings for a very long time. He hit all round the wicket.
At last a brilliant piece of stumping sent him back to the pavilion amid a roar of cheering.
"My word, Mr Ferrers, there goes the finest man Fernhurst has turned out since I have been there. And, my word, it will be a long time before we turn out another like him. There will be nothing to see now he has gone."
They wandered out into the Kennington Road, excited, feverish. They had lunch at Gatti's, went into Potash and Perlmutter, and came out after the first act.
"This is no time for German Jews," said Ferrers, "let's try the Hippodrome."
It was an expensive day. They rushed from one thing to another. The strain was intolerable. After supper they went to the West End Cinema, and there, just before closing-time, a film, in which everyone was falling into a dirty duck-pond for no ostensible reason, was suddenly stopped, and there appeared across the screen the flaming notice:
ENGLAND HAS DECLARED WAR ON GERMANY