Suddenly the air was rent by the wail of the siren; the avions were coming! One heard cries of anger or fright, saw dark blots resolve into hurried action as loiterers sought places of refuge.... A fire-engine swept by with gnome-like black figures clinging to it, and that voice like some horrid wail from the pit rising from it as a fireman turned the handle of the siren.... It was a voice that matched Kendall’s humor—a voice of despair, a voice that made audible a thing which described to his ear all that was evil and squalid and treacherous and unforgivable that lurked in the black and stealthy warrens of the world.... “Let’s get out of this,” said Bert. Kendall did not want to go, and the less so now that there was danger.... Andree was in danger and, somehow, he felt that his place, if it could not be with her, was as near to her as he could station himself. He was alarmed. People were killed in these air raids. There were always casualties.... What if a bomb—what if he should never be able to see Andree again to make matters right with her? How if he should be prevented from entreating her pardon for the ugly wrong he had done her and for his brutality—he could recognize it as brutality now. Yet, mixed with all his self-accusation, his bitter heartache and wretchedness, there ran a vein of relief—actual relief, and of something like comfort. The pendulum of his subconscious self was swaying downward, preparatory to the upward sweep in the opposite direction.... The world was good, there was good in the world. All was not suspicion and sin; one might have faith in humanity.... The vestibule of the home church with its crowd of bigots seemed cold and untrue now, though they had appeared the one safe and living thing in the world so short a time ago.... Andree was good. He had not been mistaken in her; and if Andree was good, then other things and people must be good likewise.... Even Paris.... They descended into the Metro whose underground platforms were crowded with refuge-seekers of all classes and ages, who clustered together and railed against the _boche_. It was impossible to find a seat.... In half an hour many were sitting on the concrete floor: mothers with children sleeping in their laps; youths supporting the heads of sweethearts on willing shoulders; sleepy and frowsy old men and slatternly old women with hair that hung gray and unpleasant before their eyes. A gendarme prevented any from ascending the stairs to the open air. It seemed hours, though it was only a trifle more than an hour before the “all clear” was sounded. The mighty clamor of the barrage and of falling bombs had penetrated only as a dim rumble to that depth. There had been no excitement, no exhilaration, only damp, cold discomfort. The refugees made their way stiffly to the out-of-doors, Kendall and Bert in their midst. “If I should never find her—” Ken said, uneasily. “You will.” “But if she should refuse to listen.”