be at St. David's Hall. You can have as much rest as you like then."

They were facing the wind now, and conversation became impossible.
Twice they had to pull up sharp and make a considerable detour, once
on account of a fallen tree which blocked the road, and another
time because of the yawning gap where a bridge had fallen away.
Gerald, however, knew every inch of the country they were in and
was able to give the necessary directions. They began to meet farm
wagons now, full of people who had been driven from their homes.
Warnings and information as to the state of the roads were shouted
to them continually. Presently they came to the last steep descent,
and emerged from the devastated fragment of a wood almost on to the
sea level. The chauffeur clapped on his brakes and stopped short.

"My God!" he exclaimed. "Here's more trouble!"

Gerald for a moment was speechless. They seemed to have come
suddenly upon a huge plain of waters, an immense lake reaching as
far as they could see on either side. The road before them stretched
like a ribbon for the next three miles. Here and there it
disappeared and reappeared again. In many places it was lapped by
little waves. Everywhere the hedges were either altogether or half
under water. In the distance was one farmhouse, only the roof of
which was visible, and from which the inhabitants were clambering
into a boat. And beyond, with scarcely a break save for the rising
of one strangely-shaped hill, was the sea. Gerald pointed with his
finger.

"There's St. David's Hall," he said, "on the other side of the
hill. The road seems all right."