It might happen, it might come to pass, and the very security of England was the worst danger of all. A hundred thousand troops landed overnight and the result ... fields laid waste, and killing and disasters, the soul of the English country changed to its very core. It might have happened two years ago, but not now. At a moment’s call the sleeping country could spring to life, and armed men, as if born of dragons’ teeth, would appear to repel the invader, armed not with shields and stabbing spear, but with machine-guns and the deadly howitzer. England had found herself. Not for a hundred years had she so proved her soul to herself and to the world. The call came, and slowly but surely the old spirit, latent for a century, revived and had its being, openly once more and for all the world to see.... The train drew up with a jolt, and Austin broke the silence with a casual remark. ‘Pretty little station. See those wild roses growing by the lamp-post there. Reminds you of pre-war days, doesn’t it?’ Outside, the good old-fashioned station fly rumbled them over the cobbles and into the High Street, where the women stared at the uniforms, and a small boy shouted something and ran after them. Then lunch at the one and only, called rather grandly the Imperial Hotel, albeit an old place, relic of the coaching days, though with a new master and up-to-date methods. Old prints on the walls of the ‘Fox Hunt,’ old furniture, and beer in pewter tankards reminded one of the ancient glories of the place, when the London mail would roll in with a tootling of horns and shouting of postboys, and be off again amid good-byes and handshakes, and ‘Write soon when you get to London,’ from mother, and a ten shilling tip from father, while little Alfred sucked his finger and stared. The lunch consisted of the cold roast beef of England, and salad and cheese and fruits, and afterwards they wandered out into the sunshine, and up the High Street, tenanted now by only a few loafers, outside the Red Lion, and a boy or two on bicycles by the local post office. The market square offered but few attractions, and the friends wandered through the town, which ended as abruptly as the bow of a ship, and out into the country beyond. After his recent experiences Raymond found the situation almost too deep for words, and they trudged on, smoking their pipes, for the most part in silence. Presently they topped the summit of a little hill and looked back on the town, a smudge of gray and brown buildings against the blue sky, the church spire in the centre, and the smoke curling lazily up in the afternoon haze. Away to the eastward was a thin strip of blue, where lay the sea and ships and submarines and war. They turned their backs to it. For one day at least they would forget it, and Germany and War and sudden death.