They seemed disposed to look upon the news, when it did come, as something of an anticlimax, for Sir William preceded his launching of the fact with an increased activity of eyebrow and a furious jingling of seals. "Austria," he said, "has sent an ultimatum to Servia."
"Oh, is that all?" Lady McIntyre's last lingering fear was laid to rest.
"Couched in such terms," Sir William went on, "as no self-respecting nation could accept."
Miss Greta's air of elaborate deference suffered no change. She heard that the Austrian Government was plainly composed of a set of Bedlamites, "scratching matches in a powder-magazine."
Sir William seemed to have his excitement, his anxiety, all to himself, till Mr. Grant came in with Nan Ellis. Even then, Sir William had only one person with whom to share the graver implications in the news.
You'd say Julian neither heard nor saw the girl he had been frankly adoring as they came in. Question after question he fired at Sir William, rather as though that gentleman were responsible for the impasse. "What! Servia is to take it or leave it en bloc by to-morrow night? Why, that means there's less than twenty hours between Europe and—" he stopped appalled.
They still called it Servia at this date.
"Europe?" said Miss Greta, gently. "You mean Servia."
The butler came in with the belated papers.
Sir William snatched up the "Times." He glanced quickly at headlines.