Those solitary suppers in the common-rooms of the little wayside inns were things to remember. Not so much for the quality of the viands and the wine, though they never had a fault to find with either, but because of the cheerful goodfellowship and delightful camaraderie they engendered. And there was without doubt a subtle crown of joy to it all, in the feeling that here they were doing something out of the common, something that would possibly administer some slight shock to the nerves of Mrs Grundy if she had been aware of it. Their procedure, however, was not so unusual as they in their innocence imagined. As they sat over their meal that night in the Post at Martinsbruck, there came in two later arrivals who presently joined them at table,--a strapping young fellow of five-and-twenty and a very pretty girl of a year or two less, with large blue eyes and abundant fair hair coiled in great plaits round her head, and they were soon all chatting together on the friendliest of terms. These two were tramping also and had come up that day from Süss. “A good walk that, mein Herr, for little feet!” said the young man, looking proudly at his companion. “Thirty-eight kilomètres, I make it, perhaps a trifle more.” “Twenty-four miles!” said Ray. “Yes, that’s a good long stretch. Twenty miles,--say thirty, thirty-two kilomètres--is our longest. But then we’re only just beginning.” “And we are just ending,” sighed the girl. “He has to go to the army. Do you think it will be a bad war, mein Herr?” she asked anxiously. “All war is bad, mein Frau,” began Ray. “Fräulein,” she corrected him with a little smile. “I am Anna Santner. He is Karl Stecher. We are of Innsbruck.” “And in another month--in September--she is to be Frau Stecher,” said Karl with a broader smile. “We are taking a portion of our honeymoon in advance. To see how we get on together, you understand. It is not unusual with us----” “And I am sure you have got on very well together,” said Lois, with her prettiest smile. “Oh, yes. You see, we love one another very much,” said Anna. “But now--! What do you think of it, mein Herr?” “We can all only hope it will not be as bad as some people fear, Fräulein. But, at best, it is bad.” “Yes, war is bad,” said the young fellow, with gloomy vehemence. “It is devil’s play from beginning to end. Still, those Serbs had no right to shoot our Archduke, you know, and they deserve a whipping.” “Possibly. But the danger is that it may spread. If Russia takes umbrage, then Germany will join in, and Italy and France.” “And your country? What will you do?” asked Stecher. “I do not know. We certainly don’t want war, but if it comes to a general struggle we may be in it too. It is horrible to think of. In these days--all Europe at one another’s throats! It is almost inconceivable.”