"It's all over," he said.  "They've lost _one_--just _one_.  And they've
made their footing good and crippled the greatest power in the world.
They've walked over us.  The death of that one at Weybridge was an
accident.  And these are only pioneers.  They kept on coming.  These
green stars--I've seen none these five or six days, but I've no doubt
they're falling somewhere every night.  Nothing's to be done.  We're
under! We're beat!"

I made him no answer.  I sat staring before me, trying in vain to
devise some countervailing thought.