The moon appeared and quiet men cursed it.
They get us against it and we're gone," one and another commented.
The prow parted the transformed water almost reluctantly. It was as if the elderly Southerner had impressed on the boat itself his aphorism concerning floating mines.
As we went on, feeling our way, with a sense of dodging unseen and treacherous obstacles, the pretty girl told her story—a brutal one that brought the war closer.
The first chapter was just a year old—her marriage in Nice to an invalided officer of a Highland regiment. Before his complete recovery he had been unexpectedly recalled to active service. The uncertainties of waiting had appalled them. Therefore they had shocked this watchful mother lounging in her steamer chair. In spite of her panic they had married hurriedly. Their honeymoon had been the swift journey to the base at Rouen. Her voice was fearful rather than reminiscent as she spoke about it.
“He left me at a queer hotel on the main street while he went to report. He didn't know exactly what his orders would be—whether he would stay at Rouen for a while, or whether they would hurry him to the trenches with new troops. The
