"It wasn’t my fault, Nora. I didn’t know what they were leading me into. If Wolff had only helped me a bit—if he hadn’t been such a stuck-up prig, so beastly self-righteous. There, you needn’t break out! I can’t help it—it’s the truth; it’s not all my fault." He ran his shaky hand through his hair. "And, after all, there isn’t so much to make a fuss about. Everybody in our set does that sort of thing, and I dare say Bauer will tide me over the worst. He’s a decent fellow, and beastly rich. Look here, Nora"—his shifty eyes took an expression of stupid cunning—"if you asked him—you know he’s a friend of yours—I’ll be bound he’d help me." Nora turned and looked at him. In that moment he seemed to her a complete stranger. Then she gently loosened herself from his hand. She did not answer. It was too useless. She rose and left him standing there, the silly smile still playing about his lips. *CHAPTER XI* *THE FETISH* "Your mother is very ill," the Rev. John had written, "and I am in an indescribable state of anxiety both on her account and yours. Everybody here is quite certain that there is going to be war between us and Germany. Only yesterday the squire was down here talking to me about it. He says there is no hope, and that the conflict is bound to come. I do not understand politics myself, but it seems the Germans are determined to destroy us and get our power. It is very dreadful that a whole nation should show itself so avaricious, and I am sure God will help us punish so wicked and wanton an attack. All Delford is already on foot, and quite a number of young men are thinking of enlisting in the Territorials. The squire says it is a magnificent sight to see how the whole country rises at the call of danger. He himself has done not a little to help the general patriotic movement, and has opened a shooting-range in a field, where he is teaching his men to shoot. The sound of the guns makes me quite nervous, and is very bad for your poor mother, but the squire says it is helping to produce the best shots in Europe, so we must not complain, but bring our sacrifice to the motherland with a cheerful countenance. Nevertheless, I am terribly troubled. If war should break out—which God forbid!—what will become of you, my poor child, out there in the enemy’s country? Could you not make your mother’s health an excuse to come back to us, at any rate until the present crisis is over? Wolff will surely understand that you cannot stay in Germany if there is war. Find out from him what he thinks of the chances, and notice if there are any signs of preparation. If you can, come home. Your mother is very much against it, but she is ill and hardly understands the seriousness of the situation. We must all stand together in the moment of danger, and I am sure your heart is aching for the dear old country, and that you are longing to be with us. I have