'Can you?' he asked me, as I said nothing, being petrified.
I was just able to shake my head.
'Can you?' he asked, turning to Mrs. Barnes.
Her surprising answer—surprising, naturally, to my uncle—was to get up quickly, drop all her wool on the floor, and hurry upstairs.
He watched her departure with amazement. Still with amazement, when she had disappeared, his eyes sought mine.
Why, he said, staring at me aghast, 'why—the woman's a pro-German!'
In my turn I stared aghast.
'Mrs. Barnes?' I exclaimed, stung to quite a loud exclamation by the grossness of this injustice.
'Yes,' said my uncle, horrified. 'Yes. Didn't you notice her expression? Good heavens—and I who've taken care not to speak to a pro-German for five years, and had hoped, God willing, never to speak to one again, much less—' he banged his fists on the arms of the chair, and the Times slid on to the floor—'much less be under the same roof with one.'
'Well then, you see, God wasn't willing,' I said, greatly shocked.