“Yes. Well?”
“Seen the papers lately?”
“German papers!” scornfully; good enough for Germans, of course, but——
“Russia has joined Servia, and Germany has declared war on Russia, and—we’re in Germany. They say that France will have to join up with Russia, and perhaps England with France. Then there’s Holland and Belgium ... doubtful if they can keep out....”
With a sound like the rush of bursting waters, Deb’s nightmare ceased to be her private affair.... Bursting waters ... yes, a piece of music—Ravel, was it? She had heard it before she left London—the Sorcerer’s ignorant apprentice left alone with the magic broom ... trickle of water that he summoned up ... torrents of water ... multiplying devouring water ... it swamped the room and the corners of the room and the street outside and the world beyond ... gleeful swirls of water, unrelenting, irresistible, that pursued and flooded every inch of dry ... every inch of dry ... the music roared deafeningly in her head, drowning coherent thought.... Somebody had touched the broom....
She told Richard about the fantastic procession of trains.
“Troops, of course. Being hurried to the frontier. They must have quenched all the lights. Didn’t want us to know they were prepared.”
“Us? You and me?”
“England, you ass!” Richard grinned at the idea of a nation plunged in darkness for the benefit of himself and Deb. Deb—umph! he hunched his shoulders, and stared at her moodily. He was responsible for Deb’s safety.
“You wouldn’t care to marry somebody here and settle down, I suppose? It might come cheaper than hauling you along to England. It would be sport getting through if I were alone....”