“Dear me, what a time she is!” he complained _sotto voce_. “She doesn’t read newspapers as a rule. What’s in the wind now?”
For she had looked up suddenly, and seeing him, began to run. For a mere Sentimentalist she ran well,--gracefully and swiftly.
“Such news!” she cried, as she approached him. “Such terrible news! England has declared war with Germany!”
“Fiddlesticks!” said the Philosopher, emphatically. “I don’t believe a word of it!”
A little breathless with her run she swept some straying curls of gold from her eyes, and handed him the paper. There was the announcement sure enough--the brief, curt statement that was to drench Europe with blood. But the Philosopher was obstinate.
“All twaddle!” he declared. “Newspaper lies and twaddle!”
Her blue eyes rested upon him with something of wonder and sadness.
“You think so? I hope you may be right!” she said, earnestly. “Oh, I do hope you may be right!”
“Of course, I’m right,” he declared. “I’ve got some common sense. I know how these things are worked up I tell you! What’s it all about?” Here he scanned the newspaper again. “Belgium? What on earth have we got to do with Belgium! Nice muddle we make of everything! Belgium wants to protect France from invasion?--well, let her! There’s no need for _us_ to put our fingers into the pie! Let them all settle their own affairs!”
“Honour? It depends on what’s called honour. A hundred years ago we were fighting the French at Waterloo--now we want to defend them. Why? We didn’t help them in the Franco-German war. We let them fight it out. So we should now. Twaddle, I tell you!--all twaddle!”
“Well, it seems to me very serious news,” she said. “It has quite spoilt the day for me.”
“Why should it spoil the day?” he demanded. “What have _you_ got to do with it? Here you are in a nice garden,--lovely weather--and I believe you’ve got a new hat on. What else can any woman want?”
She gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders, which implied that he was not worth the trouble of answering. He continued, pleased with his own remarks:
“Women know nothing about war or politics,” he said. “They are not expected to know. They have their homes and their home duties--”
“And their men,” she interposed. “Their husbands and brothers and lovers,--in war these have to go and fight--”