"Rather sudden, isn't it?" queried Hugh, setting his watch.
"Just come through from Brigade Headquarters. Bombs are being brought up to H.15. Further orders sent round later. Bye-bye."
He was gone, and once more we sat thinking to the same old accompaniment of trench noises; but in rather a different frame of mind. To-morrow morning at 6.35 peace would cease; we should be out and running over the top of the ground; we should be...
"Will they use gas, I wonder?" Hugh broke the silence.
"Wind too fitful," I answered; "and I suppose it's only a small show."
"I wonder what it's for. I wish one knew more about these affairs; I suppose one can't, but it would make it more interesting."
The mouth-organ stopped; there were vigorous demands for an encore.
"Poor devils," he went on after a moment. "I wonder how many?—I wonder how many?"
"A new development for you, Hugh." I grinned at him. "Merry and bright, old son—your usual motto, isn't it?"
He laughed. "Dash it, Ginger—you can't always be merry and bright. I don't know why—perhaps it's second sight—but I feel a sort of presentiment of impending disaster to-night. I had the feeling before Clements came in."