Soon he pantingly desisted.
"But an Admiralty boat wouldn't have run away," he said.

"They'd have asked us who the devil we were." "But who else was it ?" asked Francis.
Michael mopped his forehead.
"Aunt Barbara would tell you," he said.

"She would tell you that they were German spies." Francis laughed.
"Or Timbuctoo niggers," he remarked.
"And that would be an odd thing, too," said Michael.
But at that moment he felt the first chill of the shadow that menaced, if by chance Aunt Barbara was right, and if already the clear tranquillity of the sky was growing dim as with the mist that lay that afternoon on the waters of the deep reach, and covered mysterious movements which were going on below it.

England and Germany--there was so much of his life and his heart there.

Music and song, and Sylvia..