The prisoners in the camp know all about it. Their spirits had risen and fallen according to the fortunes of their armies at the front. At first they were truculent. They talked braggingly about vast German forces marching upon London, blowing up Buckingham Palace, putting an end to the British Empire, and then turning their attention to America. Afterwards they were sceptical. If the English newspapers reported German defeats they knew better, having received their German newspapers which reported German victories. Now they are sullen. What is the war about, anyway? Nothing at all! In ten years’ time nobody will know what was the cause of it!
Mona is in a fever of excitement. Is the war coming to an end at last? What does Oskar think? Why doesn’t he come to her? Is he still thinking he has brought trouble enough on her already?
At length he comes. It is late at night. She hears his voice calling to her in a tremulous tone from the other side of the open door.
“Mona!”
He has never called her by that name before.
“Yes?”
She is standing on the threshold, trembling from head to foot, never before having been face to face with him since the night of her father’s seizure.
“It’s all over, Mona.”
“What is, Oskar?”