She
became a little more loquacious than usual, with the idea of talking
herself back into a tranquil frame of mind, and reassuring to herself
the promise of a peaceful future.
"Such a blessing we have a good fleet," she said. "That will make us
safe, won't it? I declare I almost hate the Germans, though my dear
husband was one himself, for making such a disturbance. The papers all
say it is Germany's fault, so I suppose it must be. The papers
know better than anybody, don't they, because they have foreign
correspondents. That must be a great expense!"
Sylvia felt she could not endure this any longer. It was like having a
raw wound stroked. . . .
"Mother, you don't understand," she said. "You don't appreciate what is
happening. In a day or two England will be at war with Germany."
Mrs. Falbe's book had slipped from her knee. She picked it up and
flapped the cover once or twice to get rid of dust that might have
settled there.
"But what then?" she said. "It is very dreadful, no doubt, to think
of dear Hermann being with the German army, but we are getting used to
that, are we not? Besides, he told me it was his duty to go. I do not
think for a moment that France will be able to stand against Germany.
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