any question of exciting public alarm (there is no reasonable cause for it) or any fear of betraying a secret to the enemy (it is no secret) if as evidence of the moral and physical courage of the daughters of Britain, and as an example of the bravest single thing woman does for the war, I describe the scene of what is known as the danger zone at Woolwich.
This section of the Arsenal is at some distance from the factories and we drive to it in a motor-car. The day has closed in by now, the darkness has fallen, and the moon is rising. We travel over a kind of marsh to a promontory that seems to have the river running about it. The long stretch of dark road is jealously watched. At one moment the car stops and the face of a guard appears at the window. He asks for any matches, cigarettes and knives we may carry about with us. After we have emptied our pockets of such combustibles our car is permitted to proceed. There is another long stretch of dark road (between wooden sheds,
