they would not—you dreamed the very thing the French are saying before they ever said it—‘they shall not pass.’ I declare to you, Miss Oliver, dear, when I read that in the paper, and remembered your dream, I went cold all over with awe. It seemed to me like Biblical times when people dreamed things like that quite frequently.
“I know—I know,” said Gertrude, walking restlessly about. “I cling to a persistent faith in my dream, too—but every time bad news comes it fails me. Then I tell myself ‘mere coincidence’—‘subconscious memory’ and so forth.”
“I do not see how any memory could remember a thing before it was ever said at all,” persisted Susan, “though of course I am not educated like you and the doctor. I would rather not be, if it makes anything as simple as that so hard to believe. But in any case we need not worry over Verdun, even if the Huns get it. Joffer says it has no military significance.”
“That old sop of comfort has been served up too often already when reverses came,” retorted Gertrude. “It has lost its power to charm.”
“Was there ever a battle like this in the world before?” said Mr. Meredith, one evening in mid-April.
“It’s such a titanic thing we can’t grasp it,” said the doctor. “What were the scraps of a few Homeric handfuls compared to this? The whole Trojan war might be fought around a Verdun fort and a newspaper correspondent would give it no more than a sentence. I am not in the confidence of the occult powers”— the doctor threw Gertrude a twinkle—“but I have a hunch that the fate of the whole war hangs on the issue of Verdun. As Susan and Joffre say, it has
