Madame Joos turned on her husband. “How you do chatter, Henri!” she said. “We all owe our lives to this gentleman, yet you aren’t satisfied. The Meuse indeed! What will you be saying next?”
“How far is Argenteau?” put in Dalroy.
“That’s it, where the house is on fire,” said the miller, pointing.
“About a kilomètre, I take it?”
“Something like that.”
“Have you friends there?”
“Ay, scores, if they’re alive.”
“I hear no shooting in that direction. Moreover, an army corps is passing through. Let us go there. Something may turn up. We shall be safer among thousands of Germans than here.”
They walked on. The Englishman’s air of decision was a tonic in itself.