Warren out of the inner tea-room into the
back premises and a spare bedroom. Here she was laid on the bed,
partially undressed and all available and likely restoratives
applied.
[Footnote 1: Street urchins of Brussels. How they harassed the
Germans and maddened them by mimicking their military manoeuvres!]
The doctor when he came pronounced her dead, thought it was probably
an effusion of blood on the brain but couldn't be certain till he
had made an autopsy.
"What _am_ I to do?" said Vivie thinking aloud....
"Why, stay here till all the formalities are over and you can find
rooms elsewhere," said Mme. Trouessart, the owner-servant of the
tea-shop. "I have another spare room. For the moment my locataires
are gone. I know you both very well by sight, you were clients of
ours in the happy days before the War. Madame votre mere was, I
think, the gerante of the Hotel Edouard-Sept when I first came to
manage here. Since then, you have often drunk my tea. Je me nomme
'Trouessart' c'est le nom de mon mari qui est ... qui est--Vous
pouvez diviner ou il est, ou est a present tout Belge loyal qui peut
servir. Le nom Walcker? C'etait le nom de nom pere, et de plus est,
c'etait un nom Anglais transforme un peu en Flamand. Mon
arriere-grand-pere etait soldat Anglais. Il se battait a Waterloo.
For me, I spik no English--or ver' leetle.
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