“Why not? What’s coming over thee, woman? What’s been happening downstairs to change thee?”
At that word Mona feels as if a sword has pierced her heart, and she hurries out of the room.
After a while the mother-instinct in her comes uppermost. Her father is right. To make war on children is the crime of crimes. The people who do such things must belong to the race of the devil.
That evening she is crossing to the “haggard” when she meets Oskar Heine coming out of his compound. She does not look his way, but he stops her and speaks.
“You’ve heard what’s in the papers?”
“Indeed I have.”
“I’m ashamed. I’m sorry.”
“Never mind about sorry. Wait until the same is done to your own people, and then we’ll see, we’ll see.”
He is about to tell her something, but she will not listen, and goes off with uplifted head.
A week passes. Mona has seen nothing more of Oskar Heine. Being free to come and go as he likes, he must be keeping out of her way. She is feeling less bitter about that shocking thing in London. After all, it was war. It is true that all the victories of war are as nothing against the golden head of one darling child, but then nobody sees that now. Nobody in the world has ever seen it—nobody but He....