the wintry night was dark and moonless. there was a slight ground mist—and consequently no wind.
ronald pryor returned to harbury court late for dinner, where beryl and her sister awaited him. he had had a fagging day in london, spending nearly half his time with officials of the air department, who had at last become[102] interested in his new engine silencer. trials of it had been made at farnborough and elsewhere, and proof of its effectiveness had been quite adequate.
“the department have decided to adopt it!” he announced triumphantly to beryl as he entered the long, old-fashioned stone hall, and hung up his overcoat.
“i knew they would, dear!” cried the enthusiastic air-woman joyously.
“i only hope the secret won’t leak out to the enemy,” he said, and then went along to wash his hands before sitting down to dinner.
presently, while they were at table, and ronnie was describing the interview he had had with the heads of three government departments and the reading of the confidential reports upon the tests made with aeroplanes to which the silencer had been fitted, the maid entered announcing that he was wanted on the telephone.
he left the table, and five minutes later returned with a grave look upon his countenance.
“what’s the matter, dear?” asked beryl anxiously, for she dreaded lest something was amiss.
for a few moments he did not answer, busying himself with his plate. then at last, he replied:
“oh!—well, only that i am flying ‘the hornet’ again to-night.”
“may i not go with you?” beryl asked eagerly. “do let me go. it is over a week since i went up.”
he hesitated. truth to tell, what he had heard on the telephone caused him some misgivings. over the wire a certain disguised message had been given to him from headquarters—a request to which he had acceded.
beryl was in entire ignorance of the affair. he[103] had been asked to regard it as strictly confidential, hence, he had not mentioned it, even to his well-beloved.
“look here, dearest,” he said at last, looking across the big bowl of flowers in the centre of the table, “i don’t half like you coming with me to-night. there may be risk, and it is unfair that you should take it.”
“we are engaged, ronnie; therefore, if there is any danger, why should i not share it?” was her prompt reply. “i am not afraid while i am with you.”
“that’s quite the right spirit, beryl,” remarked her sister, approvingly.
“i quite appreciate your bravery, little one,” said ronnie, “but flight on this misty night is fraught with more danger than people ever imagine. once you are up you are lost, except for your compass. and to descend is, as you know, full of perils.”
“i quite appreciate all that,” said beryl. “don’t you recollect when i came over from sandgate to folkestone, and found a thick fog on this side? well, i went on till i found a break in it on the surrey downs, and descended quite safely at ash, near aldershot.”
“that was in daylight—not on a dark night like this?”
“but where are you going?” she inquired.
to her question he remained silent. his was a mission in strict confidence.
further argument followed between the pair, until at last, by the time dinner had ended, ronald pryor was compelled to accede to her request.
then, taking a flash-lamp, he went forth[104] across the big meadow to the hangar and found collins awaiting him.
“all ready, sir,” the latter announced cheerily. “i heard you quite well on the ’phone from london, but—well, sir,” he added hesitatingly, “it’s a bit risky to fly to-night, isn’t it?”
“is the machine all in order—everything?” asked his master.
“everything, sir. she only requires wheeling out,” and as he uttered the words the mechanic opened the great sliding-doors of the hangar.
then, together, the two men wheeled out the aeroplane, and while ronnie mounted into the pilot’s seat collins swung over the propeller, and his master tuned up his engine.
meanwhile, beryl having put on her air-woman’s kit, with the leather jacket and cap, joined her lover, whom she found in the hangar poring over a map showing the east coast between the wash and the estuary of the thames.
he was taking measurements and making some pencilled calculations, while she stood expectantly beside him.
“well, dear!” he asked at last, “are you ready?”
“quite!” was her reply, and a few moments later, after he had put on his muffler, his overalls, and leather coat, they both climbed into the machine, and strapped themselves in.
“light the flares about two o’clock, collins. i’m making a pretty long flight, so we can’t be back before then.”
“very well, sir.”
then, tuning up again, and having tried the silencer, and found it in good working order,[105] he ran the machine swiftly across the frosty grass. soon he rose, and, skimming the trees, soon soared away into the darkness.
from where beryl sat she saw the glow of the little electric bulb set over the instruments shining into her lover’s strong clean-shaven face, and, by the compass, gathered that they had described a half-circle, and, though still rising rapidly, were now heading eastward in the direction of the sea. the roar of the engine, of course, rendered speech impossible, while the mist was very chilly causing her to draw her brown woollen comforter around her cheeks. there was no sign of light anywhere below—all was a great black void.
they had flown for nearly half-an-hour when, of a sudden, the long beam of a searchlight shot up from somewhere on their left, and began slowly to search the sky. their approach had been heard by one of our air-stations.
ronnie, watching the light made no attempt to evade it. indeed, he switched on his searchlights in order to reveal himself. he had no wish to be peppered by our “archies.”
next second both of them were blinded by the searchlight full upon them. in a moment a second, and then a third, light converged upon them, so that the aviator and his well-beloved were compelled to shade their eyes with their gloved hands.
for a full three minutes the lights followed them, when the watchers below, having examined the tri-coloured rings on “the hornet’s” planes and being satisfied, shut off.
beryl saw that her lover was anxiously watching his altimeter, as well as his compass and clock.[106] it seemed as though he were apprehensive of something.
suddenly he began to descend, and pulled across the lever controlling the silencer, thus cutting off the noise of the exhaust.
“we’re over the sea, now,” he remarked; “can’t you feel the difference in the atmosphere? look on the left.”
she did so, peering down into the darkness, and there saw the twinkling of a light—a ship was signalling rapidly, being answered by another not far away.
“where are we going, dear?” beryl inquired.
“on a mission,” was his abrupt response. and, though she pressed him for information, he would vouchsafe no further reply.
for a full hour they flew over the north sea, due east, until suddenly they turned south, and with the silencer still on, went along noiselessly save for the shrill wind whistling in the struts.
from ten thousand feet they had now descended to a little over two thousand, when, all of a sudden, a distant searchlight shot forth.
“that’s the belgian coast!” ronnie remarked, and once again he started to ascend, flying in a complete circle and undecided as to exactly where he might be. the single shaft of light, like a moving line in the total darkness, was soon followed by others from the same neighbourhood. circles of light could be seen, showing that the clouds were low—a fact which would favour the intrepid pair.
“we’ll give those lights a wide berth for a little,” ronnie said cheerfully, and again he turned northward, and a little later to the south-east.
as they flew they watched those slowly-moving searchlights until, one by one, they disappeared.
[107]“they’ve finished their sweep of the skies,” he said at last, with satisfaction. “if there’s no alarm they won’t open out again for some time.”
and then he flew in the direction of where the lights had been, descending until he was again only about two thousand feet above the sea.
“from the disposition of those lights it seems that we are near our objective,” he remarked. “i hope you are not nervous, darling?”
“why should i be with you, ronnie?” she asked, placing her gloved hand tenderly upon his shoulder.
“well, because we’re now entering the danger-zone,” he replied, “and i think i ought not to conceal it from you. would you like to turn back?”
“turn back!” echoed the brave girl. “never! where you dare go, i will go too. don’t think i’m in the least nervous. if anything happens, it will happen equally to both of us.”
“well spoken, my darling,” he said, his hand touching her cheek in the darkness. “then we will go forward.”
after that there was a long silence, until below they saw a cluster of faint lights, with one light flashing at regular intervals.
“look!” he said. “that is zeebrugge. beyond—that fainter light over there—is ostend.”
he consulted a roughly drawn map which he now produced, and which bore certain cryptic marks in red and blue; he directed beryl’s attention to a speck of light to the north, saying: “that surely is heyst!”
then he pointed “the hornet’s” nose[108] upwards, and rose until they were enveloped in a cloud of fog in order to evade the inquisitiveness of any searchlights, afterwards flying in a circle directly over the port of zeebrugge, which both knew to contain strong defences and long-range anti-aircraft guns.
for a full quarter of an hour they hovered over the town, their presence entirely unsuspected on account of the roaring exhaust being silenced. then, carefully, he once more descended to mark out his objective—the new german submarine base. between two spots seen far below he was undecided. there were many faint lights burning in the town, but one, he decided, was in the centre of the submarine base.
without uttering a word to his companion, who sat strapped in her narrow seat cramped, breathless, and half-frozen, he passed and re-passed over the german base three or four times.
suddenly as he went a quick swish sounded below them, and, peering down, beryl saw a big burst of flame, followed by a terrific explosion, the concussion of which gave the machine a serious tilt.
bang!—bang!—bang! sounded so quickly in succession that hardly had one ceased before the other reached them.
below, the bright red flashes, angry points of light in the blackness of the night, showed vividly, while at the moment that the searchlights shone forth ronnie, having dropped his bombs, climbed swiftly into the bank of cloud.
higher and higher they went, until below them they only saw the clouds aglow with the glare, whether by the incendiary fires they had caused among the enemy or the searchlights they knew not.
[109]“‘the hornet’ has done considerable damage this time!” ronnie laughed hoarsely, as the altimeter showed that they were still ascending. “i saw that the second bomb dropped plumb into the fitting-shop! it has, no doubt, put an end to fritz’s activity for a good many days to come.”
“what do you intend doing now?” asked beryl. “going home?”
“home? no. i’ve got four more bombs for them, yet.”
as he spoke, however, they heard the sharp bark of the enemy’s anti-aircraft guns. yet no shell whistled near them.
the hun is a bully, and hence a coward. taken unawares, as he was at zeebrugge that night, when he heard nothing and saw nothing, it was but natural that he should fire even into the air in order to scare off the british raider.
but ronald pryor was not the man to be scared off. he had had an objective to reach and he had reached it, but he had not yet finished, and did not intend to take any bombs back.
he knew that as long as he kept above the low clouds, and as long as his machine was silent, as it would remain, it would be impossible for the gunners below to hit him. therefore he drew away seaward again, according to his compass, then back to land, and for half-an-hour flew round the little town of heyst.
now and then, as they passed from one cloud to another, they watched the lights of zeebrugge searching for them, until it seemed that the alarm had died down.
at two points, however, they could see great fierce fires burning—conflagrations they had caused in the heart of the submarine base. one[110] of ronnie’s bombs had, as was afterwards known, dropped upon the oil-tanks, and, the blazing oil having been scattered over a large area, had caused devastation throughout the neighbourhood.
“hark! what’s that?” asked beryl holding her breath, her quick ears having detected a familiar sound.
ronnie, listening, suddenly said:
“ah! i quite expected that—their airmen are up, looking for us! now we may have a little excitement. collins put the gun ready. is it all right?”
“quite,” said the girl. long ago ronnie had taught her how to manipulate the lewis gun. therefore, she placed her hand upon it and drew the shoulder-piece towards her, swinging the machine-gun easily upon its pivot.
“keep cool, darling! don’t fire till i tell you,” he urged. “we’re going over the town again to give them a farewell salute—all explosives this time. i want to get those warehouses at the docks! i can see them plainly now—the fires show them up. by jove, they’ll get a shock when they find themselves bombed again, won’t they?” and he laughed merrily as he turned “the hornet’s” nose back in the direction of zeebrugge. flying as low as he dared, he approached the spot where the red flames leapt up far below, and the smoke greeted their nostrils with increasing intensity.
by this time the searchlights had been switched off, though hun machines could be heard in the air. those who controlled the searchlights knew that their aeroplanes would work best in the darkness, being fitted with small searchlights themselves.
[111]leisurely, ronnie came over the town, flying high and in silence, until, when just over where the darting flames were showing up the buildings all around, he suddenly released his remaining bombs—all but one.
terrific explosions sounded in quick succession, and, though so far above, they could both feel the concussion. indeed, “the hornet” very narrowly escaped a serious nose-dive in consequence. next moment they saw that the row of buildings facing the docks was aflame from end to end, and beginning to burn almost as fiercely as the submarine oil-dep?t.
ronnie, however, did not have it all his own way.
ten seconds after dropping those bombs, and causing panic in the occupied belgian port, the sky was again ablaze with searchlights. at that moment ronnie was out of one cloud, and travelling very swiftly into another.
the searchlights were, however, too quick for him, and picked him up.
“h’m!” he grunted. “they’ve found us at last! now for home!”
hardly had he spoken when the anti-aircraft guns from below commenced to bark sharply, with now and then a deep boom. they could both hear the shells whistling close to them, but so high were they by this time that accurate aim by the enemy was well-nigh impossible.
in such a circumstance the wisest course was to fly in a wide circle, descending and ascending, a course which ronnie, expert airman that he was, adopted.
those were highly exciting moments! beryl held her breath. her hand was upon the lewis gun, but her lover had given no order. in her[112] observer’s seat she sat alert, eager, with every nerve strained to its fullest tension. they were in the danger-zone, surrounded by what seemed a swarm of aeroplanes, which had ascended in order to prevent their returning to sea.
the little bulb in front of ronnie burnt on, shedding its meagre light over instruments and maps. beryl saw by the altimeter—which she had so often watched when flying the machine alone—that they were up five thousand six hundred feet.
the dark waters were beneath them. a stray shell from the enemy would cast them both down—deep down into the north sea.
more than once they heard the whirr of an aeroplane-engine quite close to them, but going forward, slipping through the air without noise, thanks to pryor’s silencer, which the authorities had now recognised as a remarkable and highly useful invention in aerial warfare, they managed to evade their adversaries. the strain of it all was, however, terrible.
upon the misty clouds below shone the glow of searchlights from land and sea, lighting up the billow mists, until they were quite picturesque undulations, like a fairy landscape. yet through those mists they saw the deadly enemy flying to and fro in search of them as they went out to sea in silence.
beryl watched it all from her observer’s seat. she knew that their raid had been successful, and that enormous damage had been done to the hun submarine base. on her left showed the faint lights of ostend, where she had spent one summer with her sister iris and her husband, two years before the war. she had walked along the digue in a smart summer gown, and she had[113] gambled at boule and eaten ices in the great casino which, according to report, was now used as a german hospital. ah, how times had changed! she had never dreamt that she would be flying as an enemy over that sandy coast.
ronnie, with all his wits about him, was heading straight for the english coast north of the thames when, of a sudden, there arose from the dark void below the rapid throb of an enemy seaplane, which, a few seconds later, opened out its searchlight.
a moment afterwards it had fixed “the hornet.”
then began a desperate fight for life. the german aviator, having marked his prey, rose like a hawk, and then bore down upon him swiftly, his searchlight glaring into beryl’s face like some evil eye.
the girl unstrapped herself and rose in order to be able to handle the machine-gun without encumbrance, for they were now flying upon an even keel.
“hold on, dear!” the pilot exclaimed, and then suddenly he banked his machine over, swerving away none too soon from the hostile seaplane.
again he worked up, avoiding the quick swoop of his adversary, who suddenly opened fire.
a heavy shower of bullets passed them harmlessly, whistling all around them, while from somewhere—possibly from a german warship—a high explosive shell burst perilously near them, causing “the hornet” to roll and wallow in a most disconcerting manner.
again and again ronnie’s adversary fired full upon him, but all to no purpose. then[114] suddenly a second machine came up from somewhere, and that also let loose its machine-gun. quick spurts of blood-red flame showed first upon one side then upon the other, yet ronnie remained quite cool, awaiting his chance of gaining an advantage and to strike.
a piece of the high explosive shell had torn the fabric of one of the planes. that was all the damage they had sustained up to the present. surely no woman could ever have a more exciting or so perilous an experience, midway between sky and sea!
suddenly, after climbing and diving, ronnie saw his opportunity, and, making a sudden swerve, cried to beryl:
“get ready!”
“i’m ready,” she answered.
again he climbed, and as he rose past the machine which was pressing him so closely, he said:
“fire!”
in an instant beryl’s gun spluttered, sending forth its leaden hail full into the centre of the german machine. beryl held her breath, and watched the enemy’s searchlight quiver, rise, and then suddenly pointing downwards, swiftly become smaller and smaller as it descended towards the sea.
“he’s gone!” cried ronnie with relief. “pilot and observer both killed, i should say.”
“they must have dropped into the sea!” gasped the girl, awe-stricken.
next second, however, the other machine loomed up to exact vengeance. beryl had swiftly replenished the gun with ammunition, and was again in readiness for the word from her lover to fire.
[115]ronnie, fully alive to the fact that he was being pressed by the second machine, dived and banked, then climbed as rapidly as he could, yet, alas! he could not shake off his pursuer.
in silence, with the wind whistling through the struts and the piece of torn fabric flapping, he pressed on, striving to escape from his relentless pursuer, who, no doubt, intended to shoot him down as reprisal for the destruction of his hun comrade.
again the enemy machine opened out his searchlight, and, holding him as a mark, fired rapidly. for a moment ronnie did not reply. all his nerve was concentrated upon obtaining the advantage a second time.
up and down, to and fro, the two machines banked, rose and fell, but ronald pryor could handle his machine as though it were part of himself. at last he drew up, and, setting his teeth as he pointed “the hornet’s” nose direct at his adversary, he blurted out:
“fire!”
beryl laid the gun straight at the aeroplane, touched it, and again death rained forth.
yet almost at that very same moment the hun also opened fire. the spluttering was deafening for a few seconds, when, to the girl’s alarm, she suddenly saw her lover fall helpless and inert over his instruments.
“gad, beryl,” he managed to gasp, “they’ve got me—the brutes! phew, how it burns!”
the girl, who had not for a second lost her nerve, instantly realised the peril, and without a moment’s delay—nay, even without a word—she clambered across into the pilot’s seat and took the levers, being compelled to crush past her[116] wounded lover as she did so, and not knowing the nature of his wound.
“that’s right, beryl! fight to the last!” the man gasped. “bank her, then go right down and rise again. you may beat him off by that. try, darling! do—do your best!” he whispered, and then he sank back in the blackness of unconsciousness.
beryl, as an expert air-woman, knew all the tricks of evasion while flying. she knew that her lover’s advice was the best, and she carried it out to the very letter.
just as she banked, the hun machine sent out another splutter of lead. those angry spurts of red fire seemed to go straight into her face, but, though the bullets tore more holes in the fabric of the left plane and broke a strut, they whizzed harmlessly past her.
it was truly a flight for life. flying “the hornet,” as she was doing, she had no means by which to retaliate or to drive off the enemy. their lives now depended upon her skill in manipulating the machine. this she did with marvellous judgment and foresight. to the very letter she carried out the orders of the man now lying back wounded and unconscious.
beneath her breath she whispered a prayer to almighty god for assistance, and set her teeth. again the hun seaplane spurted forth a venom of fire upon her, but with a dexterous turn she banked, and once more avoided him. he intended to shoot her down into the black waters below, but she had her wounded lover at her side, and thought only of his welfare. she recollected her own response when ronnie had suggested that she should remain at home, and when she saw that cruel eye of bright light following[117] her so steadily she grew more and more determined.
at last she decided upon flying by the compass quite straight towards the essex coast, and seeing if her adversary could overtake her. at first it seemed a very perilous course, because the hun coming up behind, shot at her continually, and once more the fabric was torn in one place near her elbow. but as she flew on in silence she all at once made a discovery. she listened. her pursuer was gradually overtaking her. if he did, then she was entirely defenceless, and must share the same terrible fate as the machine that ronnie had sent down into the sea.
the tension of those fateful moments was terrible. yet she summoned all her woman’s pluck—the pluck that had come to the female sex in these days of war—and kept on flying in the direction of home.
her ear caught something, for it was trained to the noise of aeroplanes.
again she listened. that eye of light which was following her so ruthlessly was still upon her, yet by the noise, she knew that the hostile engine was not firing correctly. the throb was not even and incessant.
had providence intervened to save her?
she drew a long breath, and opened out so that she put all speed into her machine. from the pace she was going she knew that the wind had sprung up, and in her favour, too. “the hornet” was a fast machine, yet the huns had machines quite as mobile, and she had no means of knowing the make of aeroplane against which her speed was pitted.
she flew—flew as no woman had ever flown[118] before. half-crushed beneath her in the pilot’s seat lay ronnie, oblivious to everything. she had placed her arm tenderly round his neck, but on withdrawing her hand in the darkness she had felt it strangely sticky—sticky with blood!
ronald pryor was evidently wounded in the neck. perhaps he was already dead. he might have been, for all the brave girl knew. but that sound of the mis-firing of her enemy gave her courage, and she kept on—on and on—until, very slowly, she drew away from that bright evil eye that was bent upon her destruction.
again came a splutter of lead upon her. again she knew that bullets had gone through the fabric, but no great damage had been done to the machine.
she feared more for the petrol-tank than for herself. a shot in the bottom of that tank would mean a certain dive into the sea. of a sudden another spurt of fire showed deep below them, and a shell coming up from somewhere, friendly or hostile she could not tell, exploded, and nearly wrecked them both. it was from some ship at sea—a british ship, no doubt, which, seeing aircraft with a searchlight going in the direction of the east coast at that hour of the morning, had naturally opened fire upon it.
at last, after nearly half-an-hour, beryl still with her eye upon the compass and sailing again upon an even keel and in an increasing wind, glanced over her shoulder and saw the light of the enemy grow dimmer, and then gradually disappear. she had entered a thick cloud, and sailing on in silence, would, she knew, be at once lost to the view of her enemy.
five minutes later, when beryl at last realised that she had escaped, she again placed her left[119] arm tenderly round her lover and endeavoured to raise him, but without avail.
was he dead? the thought struck her with horror! he had done what had been asked of him, but perhaps he, like so many others, had paid the toll of war!
though perhaps her hand trembled a little upon the levers, yet she settled herself again as well as she could, and with her eye upon both map and compass she sped along over those dark waters, tossed by the increasing wind which had arisen behind her.
for nearly two hours she flew on. by dint of great effort she managed to move ronnie into a position which she hoped might be more comfortable. she spoke to him, but there was no answer. he lay there inert and motionless, strapped in his seat. when she withdrew her ungloved hand it was again wet with blood.
she pressed forward, putting “the hornet” along at the full pace of which the machine was capable. the little clock showed the hour to be nearly three, therefore she judged that she must be nearing the english coast again. her surmise proved correct, for ten minutes later she saw the glimmer of a searchlight on the sky straight ahead—the light of one of our air-stations. therefore, turning slightly to the north, she again opened the silencer as a precaution, and, with her engine suddenly roaring, made straight for it.
ere long half-a-dozen beams of intense light were searching the skies for the incoming machine, which the watchers below were eager to examine, and it was not long before one of the beams caught and held “the hornet” in its blinding rays, lighting up the white, inanimate face beside her, and showing the dark stain of wounds.
[120]then three other beams became concentrated for a few moments upon her, and again, one after another, shut off, until she was once more in darkness.
the position of the lights, however, told her where she was—over a certain town a few miles inland, and taking her bearings, she rose higher, and began to describe a wide circle in order to find the four bright flares which she knew collins had lit in the meadow at harbury.
another half-hour she spent in vain search, until, of a sudden, she saw points of light deep down on her left. straining her eyes she managed at last to make out that there were four, looking close together from that height. therefore she quickly descended, while as she did so she saw morse flashes from a signal-lamp telling her the direction of the wind, in order that she might land head on to it.
ten minutes later she came safely to earth, when collins ran up, having chased the machine across the field.
in a moment beryl told him with breathless haste what had occurred, and with but few words they at once carried ronald back to the house, and laid him upon the sofa in the study. then collins rushed to the car, and drove away madly to fetch the nearest doctor.
the latter arrived with but little delay, and beryl, her sister’s arm round her, stood outside the door, awaiting his verdict.
the examination occupied some time, but at last the medical man came forth.
“he is very severely wounded, miss gaselee,” he said, “but there is still a spark of life left—a very meagre spark. by careful attention and nursing he may possibly pull through. he is[121] not yet conscious, but we will put him to bed, and i will remain and see what i can do. we can only hope.”
beryl, thankful that ronnie still lived, quickly bestirred herself for his comfort, and it was not long before the senseless man was carried up to his own room, where the doctor remained watching him for many hours.
days passed—days of breathless and terrible anxiety—during which the doctor forbade beryl to see the wounded man. in the papers there had been published accounts of the enormous damage done to the enemy submarine base at zeebrugge by a “british aeroplane,” but the name of the intrepid aviator was not given. only the authorities and those at harbury court knew the truth. the authorities preserved a wise reticence, for the publication of facts is not always in the interests of the country.
ronnie’s wounds proved far more serious than were at first believed, and even the specialist who came down from harley street was not at all hopeful of his recovery. nevertheless, the fine physique of the patient proved in his favour, and a fortnight later beryl was allowed to see him for the first time.
from that moment beryl became his nurse, and slowly he recovered; slowly, because both his right arm and his right leg had been so injured that they would be entirely useless in future, and he could never fly again.
only the thought of his invention, and the great advantage it would give to our aviators for night-flying in the future, comforted him, when at last he was able to be wheeled about in his chair by beryl.
[122]and was it surprising that when, three months later, the pair were married in the old, ivy-clad, church, half-a-mile from harbury court, the illustrated papers published a pathetic picture of the bridal couple emerging from the porch, the bridegroom on crutches, and described it as “a romantic war-wedding”?
