"That must be it," Miss Breeze cried. "I thought they were going to fire off cannon."
Mrs. Walbridge went to the little window and opened it. The sun was shining, and the sky was as clear as if they looked at it from some empty moor. She stood and looked up.
"Thank God," she said. "Now all the sons and brothers and lovers will be coming home—those who are left——"
"And husbands," agreed Miss Breeze, clasping her hands.
As the cannon began to roar, Violet Walbridge turned and looked at her friend with a curious expression in her fine eyes. "And husbands," she added softly.
While the two women were having their simple lunch the house door burst open and Griselda came running in, glowing with colour and happiness, looking the picture of youth and beauty, in a little close-fitting fur cap and stole of the same kind of fur. The Fords had motored her up to town to see the celebrations and to go to a ball at one of the big hotels that night.
"Oh, mother," she cried, "aren't you glad it's over—the war, I mean?"
She sat down at the table, and leaning her chin in her hand, watched the two women as they pecked at their bread and cheese.