ACT III. LATE AFTERNOON
SCENE. As before. CECIL is discovered reading a letter from home.
CECIL (to himself). Tom dead. Good Lord! What times we have had together! Where are all the good fellows I used to know? Half of them dead, and the rest condemned to die! No more yachting on the broads! No more convivial evenings at the Troc.! No more long nights spinning yarns in Tom's old rooms in the Temple! Curse this blasted war that robs one of everything worth having, that dulls every sense of decency and kills all feeling for beauty, destroys the joy of life, and mutilates one's dearest friends. Curse it!
(A sound as of an express train is heard, followed by the roar of an explosion, while a dense cloud of smoke and dust rises immediately in view of the trench.)
PORTENTOUS VOICE. Prepare to face eternity!
CECIL (clenching his fists). Beast, loathsome beast! Don't think I am afraid of you.
(The sounds are repeated as a second shell drops, rather nearer. A Shadow appears round the dug-out, and hesitates.)
CECIL (to the Shadow). Who is that? Is that the Shadow of Fear?
A THIN, QUAVERING VOICE. Yes, shall I come in?