"We had an alarm," he said. "Have you heard anything?"

When we told him no, he pedalled on more slowly, and oh, how
wearily! to the front. Rather pitiful that, too, when you thought of what
was "out there."

One had learned enough to know, without the confidential information
that he received, that the Germans could take Brussels if they chose.
But the people of Brussels still thronged the streets under the
blankets of bunting. If bunting could save Brussels, it was in no
danger.

There was a mockery about my dinner that night. The waiter who laid
the white cloth on a marble table was unctuously suggestive as to
menu. Luscious grapes and crisp salad, which Belgian gardeners
grow with meticulous care, I remember of it. You might linger over
your coffee, knowing the truth, and look out at the people who did not
know it. When they were not buying more buttons with the allied
colours, or more flags, or dropping nickel pieces in Red Cross boxes,
they were thronging to the kiosks for the latest edition of the evening
papers, which told them nothing.

A man had to make up his mind. Clearly, he had only to keep in his
room in his hotel in order to have a great experience. He might see
the German troops enter Belgium. His American passport would
protect him as a neutral. He could depend upon the legation to get
him out of trouble.

"Stick to the army you are with!" an eminent American had told me.