Lady McIntyre inquired anxiously for admiralty news.
"Well, the Turks have got the Breslau and the Goeben." Sir William glanced at his sons. They said nothing.
"Oh, that," said his wife. "I mean about the great North Sea engagements."
"The movements of the fleet aren't published."
"Published! Of course not," retorted Lady McIntyre. "But that's no reason they shouldn't tell you."
"Well, I'm afraid they haven't."
"Nonsense! It's just because you've grown so secretive all of a sudden. You're nearly as bad as Colin. I do wish Jim would write!" A rush of tears blurred the blueness of her eyes. Evidently the presence of the other sons only emphasized for the mother the absence of her sailor. "Surely, William, you know about the naval battle. Why, I hear the guns all night long!"
"In your head, my dear," said Sir William, gently.
There was a moment's poignant silence. In truth, the reverberation of those guns of rumor shook all hearts.
"Well, Neil, go on,"—Madge returned to her low chair at Miss Greta's other side. "You were telling us about the new army regulations. Go on."