Somehow he didn't need to say another word. We knew the whole thing. It had come at last. There wasn't one of us who could think of a word to say, not even the Imp, though she's usually quick enough with a reply. But this time she seemed struck dumb.
After we'd all sat there for what seemed like six months, Louis said:
"I've heard the whole story from Mon— I mean from the marquis. I know that you know it, too. He told me so. I understand that he didn't intend to tell me to-day,—that you were going to give me a surprise-party for my birthday. Thank you, girls, all the same. I—I—"
He couldn't say any more just then, but sat staring away at nothing.
"It was the news in the paper that changed it all," he went on at last. "Germany has invaded French territory and violated the neutrality of Belgium, so of course the war is inevitable. The marquis is much excited and has to go back at once to offer his estates and his assistance to the government. I shall go with him."
He said all this in the strangest way, in a sort of dull, monotonous voice, as if he'd just learned it by heart and hadn't the slightest interest in it. It was the Imp who spoke first.
"Louis," she said, very quietly, "were you sorry to hear about—about that other matter?"
He didn't answer for a minute, and just sat looking off into space again. Finally he said, in the same monotonous voice:
"It's killing me!"