you would get back to America in case of—war?" The last word was almost a whisper.
"War?" she echoed. "Why, you don't mean all this talk in the papers is"
"Is serious, yes," Woodhouse answered quietly. "Very serious."
"Why, Captain Woodhouse, I thought you had war talk every summer over here just as our papers are filled each spring with gossip about how Tesreau is going to jump to the Feds, or the Yanks are going to be sold. It's your regular midsummer outdoor sport over here, this stirring up the animals."
Woodhouse smiled, though his gray eyes were filled with something not mirth.
"I fear the animals are—stirred, as you say, too far this time," he resumed. "The assassination of the Archduke Ferd"
"Yes, I remember I did read something about that in the papers at home. But archdukes and kings have been killed before, and no war came of it. In Mexico they murder a president before he has a chance to send out 'At home' cards."
"Europe is so different from Mexico," her companion continued, the lines of his face deep-
