"In the cellar."
"Thank heaven! But why are we talking here?" he added.
"Yes, why?" she said, turning to go.
Shells were still screaming far over the tree-tops.
"I think we are safe enough, for the German guns are firing over our heads at the French infantry," he said. "We are between the lines."
Helen said nothing, but walked on rapidly.
"We were very lucky," he continued. "I had a glimpse of you before the burst. It was an awful moment of suspense."
"If we had been a few yards further along or had started a few seconds sooner—how simple!" she added. "I mean, some more people would have been killed in this war—I mean—well, here we are!" and she looked up, smiling.
"None came near the house?" he asked.
"One burst outside the dining-room just as I was leaving," she answered, "but it couldn't have hurt anybody in the cellar. You see the house is quite intact," she added, as they came in sight of it. "I'm sure that Henriette is safe—and I must add another cartoon to the history of the surviving Sanford, how he dodged the shells!"