“Maybe the end of the world would look
something like this."
Williams dashed back, a strained and hurried figure in the middle of the rear seat. He had grown confidential and he told me now that the provost had had a shell through his building.
“We might as well walk about," he said. “It's as safe as hanging around here."
"What time do the Germans lunch to-day?"
He looked at his watch. That was evidently of real concern to him.
"I take back what I said about fireworks," the foreign office man cut in. "This isn't the least like fireworks."
Nor was it, for there were detonations louder than the reports of cannon, from the neighbouring streets, and scattered crashes like the crumbling of walls where shells had exploded. There was something wanton about this bombardment of a dead city.
Breathing with distaste the strange, repellant atmosphere, we hurried across a market place whose empty shelters of corrugated iron were half tumbled down. Two officers came swinging by, sticks in their hands, their helmets low on their foreheads. They didn't talk. They moved with smooth haste. The striking of their feet against the paving was inaudible because of the
