“Have you any news?” asked Mr. Britling.

“It’s war!” said Mrs. Britling.

“They are in Luxemburg,” said Manning.  “That can only mean that they are coming through Belgium.”

“Then I was wrong,” said Mr. Britling, “and the world is altogether mad.  And so there is nothing else for us to do but win....  Why could they not leave Belgium alone?”

“It’s been in all their plans for the last twenty years,” said Manning.

“But it brings us in for certain.”

“I believe they have reckoned on that.”

“Well!” Mr. Britling took his tea and sat down, and for a time he said nothing.

“It is three against three,” said one of the visitors, trying to count the Powers engaged.

“Italy,” said Manning, “will almost certainly refuse to fight.  In fact Italy is friendly to us.  She is bound to be.  This is, to begin with, an Austrian war.  And Japan will fight for us....”

“I think,” said old Lady Meade, “that this is the suicide of Germany.  They cannot possibly fight against Russia and France and ourselves.  Why have they ever begun it?”

“It may be a longer and more difficult war than people suppose,” said Manning.  “The Germans reckon they are going to win.”

“Against us all?”

“Against us all.  They are tremendously prepared.”

“It is impossible that Germany should win,” said Mr. Britling, breaking his silence.  “Against her Germany has something more than armies; all reason, all instinct—­the three greatest peoples in the world.”

“At present very badly supplied with war material.”

“That may delay things; it may make the task harder; but it will not alter the end.  Of course we are going to win.  Nothing else is thinkable.  I have never believed they meant it.  But I see now they meant it.  This insolent arming and marching, this forty years of national blustering; sooner or later it had to topple over into action....”

He paused and found they were listening, and he was carried on by his own thoughts into further speech.

“This isn’t the sort of war,” he said, “that is settled by counting guns and rifles.  Something that has oppressed us all has become intolerable and has to be ended.  And it will be ended.  I don’t know what soldiers and politicians think of our prospects, but I do know what ordinary reasonable men think of the business.  I know that all we millions of reasonable civilised onlookers are prepared to spend our last shillings and give all our lives now, rather than see Germany unbeaten.  I know that the same thing is felt in America, and that given half a chance, given just one extra shake of that foolish mailed fist in the face of America, and America also will be in this war by our side.  Italy will come in.  She is bound to come in.  France will fight like one man.  I’m quite prepared to believe that the Germans have countless rifles and guns; have got