"Why, the assassinations in Bosnia."
"Oh! I saw there had been something."
"Something!" I cried. "It's one of the most momentous things that have ever happened in history."
"What makes you say that?" he inquired, turning on me the innocent stare of his baby-blue eyes as we sauntered between the pine trunks.
I had to admit that I didn't know, I only felt it in my bones.
"Aren't they always doing something of the sort down there—killing kings and queens, or something?"
"Oh, not like this!" I paused. "You know, Hugh, Serbia is a wonderful little country when you've heard a bit of its story."
"Is it?" He took out a cigarette and lit it.
In the ardor of my sympathy I poured out on him some of the information I had just acquired.
"And we're all responsible," I was finishing; "English, French, Russians, Austrians—"