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A certain liveliness marked our departure from the town. Possibly the Germans also listen for the rare infrequent automobile. At any rate, as we were just starting our way back it is improper to mention the exact point from which we started came "Pheeee -woooo." Quite close. But there was no Bang! One's mind hung expectant and disappointed. It was a dud shell.
In one place a lamp stands on a chest of drawers, on a shelf of floor cut off completely from the world below.... Pheeee -woooo -Bang! One would be irresistibly reminded of a Sunday afternoon in the city of London, if it were not for those unmeaning explosions. I went to the station, a dead railway station.
There was all the precise delicacy of the neatly curtained home life of France. And she told me too of the people at dinner, and how as the little serving-maid passed about a proud erection of cake and conserve and cream, came the familiar "Pheeee -woooo -Bang!" "That must have been the Seminaire," said someone. As one speaks of the weather or a passing cart.
And meanwhile on both sides guns of various calibre keep up an intermittent fire, the German guns register I think that is the right term on the cross of Arras cathedral, the British guns search lovingly for the German batteries. As one walks about the silent streets one hears, "Bang -Pheeee -woooo" and then far away "dump." One of ours. Then presently back comes "Pheeee -woooo -Bang!"
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