Iris, or Hozier, for that matter, had never seen a field-piece fired by night, but before the girl could do other than grip Philip's arm in a spasm of fear, the thunder of the artillery rolled across the harbor, and the worn plates of the _Unser Fritz_ quivered under the mere concussion.
"By jove, they're at it!" cried Philip.
Iris felt the thrill that shook him.

She could not see his face, but she knew that his blue eyes were shining like bright steel.

She was horrified at the thought of red war being so near, yet she was proud of her lover.

At these mortal crises, the woman demands courage in the man.
"Oh!" she gasped, and clung to him more tightly.
Under such circumstances it was only to be expected that his arm would clasp her round the waist; Disraeli's famous epigram was coined for diplomacy, not for love-making.
Hozier strained his eyes through the gloom to try and discover the effect of the cannonade on the gunboat.

He was quickly alive to the significance of the answering broadside.