"I hope you haven't come for your tea service, Madame?"
I turned and recognized my china dealer, who smiled cynically as he motioned towards his shop.
"It doesn't pay to be a glass merchant these days. It only took two shells to send twenty years' earnings into splinters! There's not a whole goblet or plate in the entire establishment! But I wouldn't have cared if they hadn't maltreated the women. I—"
"Come and see!" cried another. "Durant's house has tumbled down and his wife and family are smothering in the cellar. Quick!"
There was a general rush in that direction, but I pushed on towards the bridge. It was evident my carts could not cross, but there was just a hope that they would let George and me through with our bicycles.
I accosted the sentry who stood mounting guard beside a motor which was thrown up on the side of the road, twisted and distorted like a tin toy one has walked on.
No, the bridge was for the army only.
I insisted.
An officer came to my rescue, but could only confirm the sentry's orders.
"You're not safe even here. This is the firing line. We don't know yet for certain whether we are going to hold the ground we gained. Villiers? Still in the Germans' hands."