I look over his shoulder. They are rather sprightly, suggestive illustrations, reinforced with a vengeance by the fervid imagination and second-hand talent of the readers who have handed it around.
The wind and rain rage outside the window. Poor weather for an attack.
“I’m sure that we’ve come here for nothing.”
“Oh, that can be launched at any time.”
“I should be much surprised if it came this evening.”
“Listen.”
A heavy, faraway, continuous rumble, like the beating of a drum, is heard just then.
The sound seems to come from the direction of Lihons and to get nearer by degrees.
In the midst of the fusillade we hear distinctly the regular crackle of the machine guns.