Walter said:
‘Is there any news?’
And I said:
‘Yes . . . there is something . . . about the Americans . . . they have been fighting somewhere, I think.’
Walter said:
‘That is not important, what about the German retreat??’
I turned over the pages of the newspaper, and began to read aloud. My voice sounded to myself very odd, and remote, and unnatural, but Walter did not notice it.
I read that the German Front was breaking, that Allied troops were pressing forward at all points. I could not tell if the words I read made sense, but he seemed satisfied.
I could not tell him about Hugo. He did not care for Hugo enough.
After breakfast, I bathed the baby, and took the little girls for their walk. The morning passed so uneventfully, in so ordinary a way, that I thought again: