"I suppose we don't really know what war is," she observed, looking
out of the window at a comfortable little village tucked away with
a background of trees and guarded by a weather-beaten old church.
"The people are safe in their homes. You must appreciate what that
means, Mr. Lessingham."
"Indeed I do," he answered gravely. "I have seen the earth torn
and dismembered as though by the plough of some destroying angel.
A few blackened ruins where, an hour or so before, a peaceful
village stood; men and women running about like lunatics stricken
with a mortal fear. And all the time a red glow on the horizon, a
blood-red glow, and little specks of grey or brown lying all over
the fields; even the cattle racing round in terror. And every now
and then the cry of Death! You are fortunate in England."
Philippa leaned forward.
"Do you believe that our turn will come?" she asked. "Do you believe
that the wave will break over our country?"
"Who can tell?"
"Ah, no, but answer me," she begged. "Is it possible for you to land
an army here?"
"I think," he replied, "that all things are possible to the military
genius of Germany. The only question is whether it is worth while.
Germans are supposed to be sentimentalists, you know. I rather doubt
it. There is nothing would set the joybells of Berlin clanging so
much as the news of a German invasion of Great Britain.
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